Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Childe may not have been the scheming type, but he was smart enough to know when scheming was going on around him.

It started with little things. Whispers. And he had a lot of ears stationed here in Liyue Harbor.

“The rebuilding of the Jade Chamber is official, now,” Felix reported, and Childe was not surprised. Lady Ningguang’s mystique had relied heavily on the Jade Chamber and her paper snow, and crashing that symbol of her success to seal an ancient god had been a real blow to her ego. He’d always known it was a matter of when the Jade Chamber was rebuilt, not if.

“They picked a spot to build it out near the Golden House,” said an electro cicin mage, her voice just as tauntingly wobbly as her gait. “They haven’t started anything yet, but we saw the places they were scouting out, and they were way more interested in this one than anywhere else.”

Likewise, Childe was not surprised by the location. The Jade Chamber was a giant floating island, so there weren’t a lot of places with the open space to keep all the material and surrounding mountains to help with scaffolding. Choosing a spot so close to the harbor was good for security, but also fantastic for morale. It would cement Ningguang’s reputation again as the citizens watched its bulk build up and finally soar, and once the Jade Chamber was airborne, the world would be back to “normal” for Liyue. The citizens would feel included by watching it grow, and protected because even if Rex Lapis was gone, Ningguang and the Jade Chamber were ready in his place. Yes, if the Jade Chamber existed, they didn’t have to fear those dastardly Fatui anymore.

(Childe was a little bitter about that, but, you know, that was valid.)

“Ningguang is summoning select merchants to her announcement ceremony,” said Ekaterina. “They tend toward those in mining businesses, but she has also collected several scholars and historians with no such ties.”

“She’s getting them to fund and research her project,” Childe laughed, setting aside a brilliant piece of noctilucous jade as he sat at his desk at the Northland Bank (where the gem had come from he didn’t know, and he had better things to worry about). “How devious! With such a penchant for luxury, it’s no wonder she might be strapped for cash and manpower on this. Mark my words, she’s going to turn this into a spectacle, and everyone will want to take part. She won’t put herself in financial danger, but all those merchants desperate for the chance to impress… they’ll be taking risks. I suspect we’ll be receiving a lot of requests for loans, soon.”

Liyue Harbor may have despised the Fatui, but they had a grudging respect for the Fatui’s deep pockets. It was probably the only reason Northland Bank hadn’t been uprooted after the Osial incident.

“We’ll make preparations for such a possibility,” said Ekaterina.

“What about the rest of the intelligence?” asked Childe. “Ningguang and the Qixing placed that large order of medical supplies through Bubu Pharmacy. Have we got a lead on that?”

“The reasoning behind it has yet to be determined, but the supplies seem to imply injury from large-scale combat,” said Ekaterina.

“It can’t be support for one of the sides in Inazuma,” Childe hummed, leaning back in his chair and closing his eyes. “That would firmly align Liyue in the post-war politics. The Vision Hunt Decree may be over, but tensions certainly aren’t, and I’ve heard more than enough intelligence reports to know that people on both sides are trying to stir up trouble again… I doubt the Qixing want to jump into conflict so soon. They’ll be far more interested in shoring up their control here now that Rex Lapis is gone. I haven’t heard any news about potential attacks by other nations, and that troubles me. The only large-scale assault I can see them mounting is against the Fatui.”

“We haven’t observed any higher aggression toward the Fatui beyond the initial surge after Osial,” said Ekaterina.

And hadn’t that been a real surge.

“It would be far more Ningguang’s style to order us out,” said Childe, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. “The City of Contracts likes its mora enough to tolerate the bank, but she’ll take that loss for Liyue Harbor if she really wants us gone. I’m sure she could come up with some excuse about us violating our contract and use that to force us out. To come at us with physical force would mean souring relations with not only the Fatui, but our Snezhnayan trade routes and our Archon. She wouldn’t risk that unless she had another card up her sleeve. A request first maybe, and then force if we don’t move fast enough… or maybe the creation of a scenario where we as the Fatui wrong them enough for their retaliation to be justified…”

“Could they even come up with a scenario better for that than Osial?” Javert muttered in the hallway.

“They never had any evidence that we did that,” Childe said loudly.

Javert shrank a little in shame.

“The point is, I don’t know why they need those supplies, and I don’t like not knowing,” said Childe, straightening up again. “Bubu Pharmacy seems to be short staffed enough that Baizhu is personally working on sourcing the supplies. He’s not exactly subtle, and his name has weight. If the Qixing want updates, they’ll ask him directly. Prioritize tailing him for information.”

“Yes, sir,” said Ekaterina.

So that was how it started.

Rumors.

Concern.

Life in Liyue Harbor was lonely after Osial.

Three months ago, it had been great. Liyue itself was beautiful: all warmth and sumptuous colors, with the dignity of a long-cherished history embracing new forward-thinkers. It was the sort of place where you could be teleported to any part of the harbor or any desolate plain, and feel in your bones that the ground under your feet mattered. Maybe that was a side effect of being the land of Geo. The people were kind, too. Childe had spent a lot of time chatting with merchants, old ladies, and other random passersby in this hub of commerce, and even if they were somewhat suspicious of his Fatui membership, they welcomed him as a person.

(Zhongli had welcomed him. Maybe. It was hard to know what was true and what had been an act, at this point.)

Childe had gone a long time without being accepted, before Liyue. He’d known from the start that any goodwill he received was temporary and would be lost with the completion of his mission. He’d known the scorn was coming, but after the contract was fulfilled, he still found himself off balance from the change. No one’s eyes lit up in anticipation of his time or money anymore; they shunned instead and whispered about how they should’ve known never to trust a Fatui Harbinger. No one spoke to him at the bustling market. No one walked with him in the streets to wax poetic about the state of Yujing Terrace’s silkflowers. Everywhere he went, there was a wide berth around him. At one point he’d been happy to be feared and suspected—it meant he was strong enough to be treated seriously—but he didn’t like that from Liyue. The ground under his feet remained beautiful and enchanting, but Childe felt removed from it. Like an intruder. Which was exactly what he was. There was no point in going out to the market or restaurants anymore, so for the past three months Childe had withdrawn. He associated with the Fatui at the bank, cooked his own meals in his apartment, and took his entertainment in the form of debt collections and Adventurers Guild commissions.

That was exactly what he was doing this fine morning.

As the sun rose, Childe walked down the street of Chihu Rock, humming Xinyan’s latest song, much to the annoyance of the locals around him. He hopped over the little water channel, climbed the stairs, and sauntered up to lean his elbow on the reception desk of the Adventurers Guild.

“Lovely morning, isn’t it?” he said. “The sun is shining, the birds are singing, and I’m sure there’s a nest of annoying monsters making trouble somewhere, right?”

The receptionist, Katheryne, looked back at him unfazed. She was identical to the receptionist Katherynes in every other corner of Teyvat.

“I’ve compiled the commissions for you today,” she said, as if he were as interesting as a passing insect, and handed him the accompanying papers.

“Just four today, huh,” said Childe, flipping through them.

“We must be fair to the other members of the guild,” said Katherine.

“Right, right…”

They were all boring: Break up a hilichurl encampment, bully some treasure hunters, deliver food supplies to a nearby inn, and use a glider to retrieve some kind of chest. Baby stuff. When was the Traveler coming back? He needed to fight something with a half decent chance of killing him, or he was going to lose his mind.

“You’re sure you don’t have anything more?” he wheedled. “No problems with any Prime Geoshivap? No Abyss mages wreaking havoc?”

“You’ve already cleared out most highly dangerous specimens,” said Katheryne.

Drat. He forced a smile back onto his face and radiated good cheer. “Well then, I’m off to tackle the not-so-dangerous ones! Keep an eye out for any challenging jobs for tomorrow!”

And away he went.

The commissions were as boring as he’d expected. Beating the hilichurls took ten minutes at most. The treasure hunters nearly wet themselves at the sight of him; some of their members had already faced his debt collection tactics before. The innkeeper accepted his delivery with a nervous laugh and would likely test all the produce for poison after Childe was out of sight. Childe took his time with the last commission; it had been set all the way at Stone Gate, likely in an attempt to wear him out with travel. He used waypoints to teleport his way up, but on the return trip he used them only to reach Guili Plains. He took the main road from there, keeping his eye on the ruins to the east.

There was one more rumor that he wanted to check in on.

The Guili Assembly had fallen 3700 years ago. Its people were led south by Rex Lapis to build Liyue Harbor, but the stone structures they’d left behind were still impressively whole for their age. Maybe that was a perk of being built by the Geo Archon. Whatever the case, the eastern view was obstructed by the rocky landscape, the radiant trees, and high walls of crumbling stone. The Fatui had used this place in their own activities while researching and forging Sigils of Permission, so Childe was very familiar with the layout and how easily things inside could be hidden: hard to spot in the first place, difficult to properly attack, and on the far side an old road ran down to a much more recently abandoned fishing village near the Conch Cottage, ensuring a quick escape route and easy, secretive movement of supplies.

In a touch of irony, the place where the Fatui had done their dirty work was now the site of Liyue’s own secret operations. Passersby wouldn’t have noticed, but the Fatui kept tabs on their old haunts. Raw weapon material and manpower had been funneled into the ruins, and the place was crawling with Millelith. Presumably this activity was meant for the same conflict as the medical supply order.

Childe was a lanky foreign redhead in blatant enemy uniform. This should have made him stick out like a sore thumb, but it tended to work to his advantage. He was very good at stealth when he wanted to be, and when people were later interviewed after his escapades they were all sure they’d have noticed someone so obvious, ergo, Childe was never suspected. He stole silently into the trees and began to climb the rocks for a better view. He paused just high enough to see over the nearest ruin walls with a large tree screening his presence, and studied the layout. More Millellith, of course. But in their center…

“Bring that wagon down the slope,” said Keqing, the Qixing's Yuheng, obvious by her vividly purple garb, the pointing of her sword, and her loud voice. “See to it that more wood is brought for the fires. And you there, have you finished the status report—”

Next to her stood a silent woman, this one with blue hair and two dark horns. That one was the half-Adeptus Ganyu, secretary of the Qixing. She was known for her meek and hardworking personality, but she had been one of the Adepti that helped to repel Osial. She wasn’t one to underestimate. Case in point—her head turned, and she looked directly at his hiding place.

“Yeah, yeah, that would’ve been too easy,” Childe grumbled, and slinked back to the ground.

He cut quickly back to the main road, but Adepti apparently worked quicker.

“Halt!” called an approaching Millelith. “What is your business here?”

“Just coming back from some guild commissions,” said Childe, grinning like nothing was wrong. “Do you need to see my paperwork?”

Apparently they did. The Millelith took his commission papers and flipped through them with a frown. “None of these are located near here.”

“I’m headed back from the last one at Stone Gate,” said Childe. “Usually there are a bunch of Treasure Hoarders holed up in the ruins, so I thought I’d get some more exercise on the way back. Judging by your presence, that’s not going to be the case.”

“That’s correct.” The Millelith returned the papers with a severe frown. “Since you have no business here, please return to Liyue Harbor.”

“Actually,” Childe wheedled, “since I’ve got you here, I’ve got a question for you. Are there any big monsters you need taken off your hands? Some geoshivaps you need exterminated, perhaps? I’m dying of boredom, here. I need something to fight.”

“Even if we did, we wouldn’t tell you,” said the Millelith.

Because of course they expected him to go reviving evil gods all willy-nilly.

Childe heaved an overdramatic sigh. “I’ll have to make do with the whopperflowers, then.”

He sauntered away, with the Millelith glaring suspiciously after him. At a turn in the road he looked back. Ganyu stood atop one of the ruin walls, watching him with a bow in hand. He sneered, gave her a mocking salute, and rounded the bend. From there he walked with purpose, mind spinning with potentials. For every answer, he had several reasons why it was wrong. Too much left to chance, too much spite from people famed to act impartially, too much risk of backlash. It was maddening. He hated scheming.

As he approached the harbor, his foul mood lifted against his will. He felt the gentle rush of power as he entered the radius of a Statue of the Seven. The mild tiredness he’d earned over the day went poof, and he scowled at the statue in betrayal.

Throughout Liyue, the Statues of the Seven showed their Archon: a handsome man reclining, robes spilling over the edges of his throne, hooded head bowed to observe a perfect cube of Geo energy.

“What are we supposed to be calling him, again?” whispered a woman in the green Adventurers Guild uniform, hands clasped in front of her in prayer. “He’s got a bunch of names, right?”

“Rex Lapis,” said the Mondstadt merchant next to her.

“Not Morax?” the adventurer checked.

“Well, you could, but that’s rude, I suppose,” said the merchant. “People here call him Rex Lapis, but also Morax, Geo Archon, oldest and strongest of the Seven, Prime of the Adepti, God of Contracts, God of Commerce, God of History and Wealth, Groundbreaker, Warrior God—"

Also Zhongli, but that was confidential.

Childe looked up at the statue again, and tried to imagine the proper Zhongli slouching like the figure in the statue. No, the Zhongli of today may have easily been entranced by a cube of geo, but he would be far more polite and reined in, cor lapis eyes bright with interest as he handled his study with care—

“It’s a shame,” said the adventurer. She knelt down and placed a bundle of Cecelia flowers at the base of the statue. “Do you think Lord Barbatos is grieving him? With Rex Lapis gone, Barbatos is the last of the original Seven…”

Gone. Ha. The world may have thought Rex Lapis was dead, but the reality was that he was living among the humans in Liyue Harbor. He was obvious about it, too. When Childe had first met Zhongli, he’d taken in the ostentatious clothing with its heavy branding of the Geo Archon’s symbol and patterns, and accepted it as a work uniform: Zhongli was employed at the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, the only organization capable of performing rites for the Adepti and therefore heavily steeped in Rex Lapis’ history. But no. The scale pattern on Zhongli’s coat was because he could take the form of a dragon hybrid, and the massive Archon symbol on his back was just there because he was the Lord of Geo. It was maddening. When Childe had learned the truth he’d wanted to scream because he’d just been so dumb and Zhongli had been so convinced he was being subtle. If the Tsaritsa ever learned that Childe hadn’t connected the dots she’d probably kick him out of the Harbingers for shame.

(On the plus side, he was meant to be the only one uninformed about it. What did that say about everyone else’s impression of his intelligence? Not important, not important, not important—)

Childe bypassed the statue and the Mondstadt gossipers without a word. He walked until the sun started to set, until he stood on the cliff at the last waypoint with Liyue Harbor spread out below him glowing in the dusk. By the Tsaritsa’s order, he’d almost crushed this city three months ago. In the months before that, he’d been happy in this city. He’d dined with a literal god in this city.

He wished (didn’t) that he’d managed to destroy it with Osial.

(He’d never belonged here.)

(It wasn’t as if that was anything new.)

Childe woke the day of Ningguang’s announcement ceremony and followed his usual cycle. He got another four pitiful commissions from the Adventurers Guild, roamed out of the harbor to complete them, and was loitering in Minlin when a Fatui skirmisher approached him before noon.

“Lord Tartaglia,” he said, “I’ve brought the information from the ceremony.”

Childe accepted the missive and scanned the list. Slowly, he began to smile. It grew wider and wider, more unhinged the more he read, until he had to put down the paper, throw back his head, and laugh.

As predicted, Ningguang had started a competition to source her materials. The first three people to provide enough of these items would be given the honor of asking her any question, and she would give an honest answer. That was her grand prize.

What a massive ego.

Lady Ningguang was human. She was ruthlessly intelligent and built a mystery around her so she seemed larger than life, but she had no power of divination. There was nothing she could give that a dedicated person couldn’t research on their own. It felt bitterly as if she were setting up her own small Rite of Descension, with herself as the god steering the year’s profits in place of Rex Lapis. Childe was far more irritated with that than he had a right to be, but surely one honest answer wasn’t worth the trouble needed to get the supplies Ningguang was requesting. 

Sunset Vermillionite. That was a variety of Plaustrite, and while that floating rock was commonly used for the annual Xiao Lanterns, the Sunset Vermillionite variety was exceedingly rare. Rare to the point that earlier rumors said the original Jade Chamber had used every remaining piece of it. Desperate people would probably comb Guyun Stone Forest for any fragments of the original construction. It would be a nightmare for the Millelith.

Wonder Cores. A complete mystery. Ningguang stated they formed the mechanical core and functions of the Jade Chamber, so they’d likely been specially commissioned. Who worked on it and how it was made, no one would know besides the artisan and the Qixing themselves.

Adepti Sigils. That was the real kicker. Three months ago Childe had broken the seal of Osial, hoping that this threat to Liyue Harbor would lure out the Archon who was pretending to be dead. He’d used forged Seals of Permission to do it: paper seals blessed by the Adepti, capable of channeling godly power. It had been grueling work, making enough seals to handle the necessary power—almost two years of frustration—and here Ningguang was casually requesting a massive number of sigils that had to be near identical.

It felt like a taunt.

Childe felt a flush of red-hot anger. He let it roil under his skin for a moment. Embraced it. Then pushed it down. He turned his sharp smile to the skirmisher and said, “Send out the order to tighten security around our operations. Anyone in Liyue Harbor who has suspicions about Osial’s seal will be sniffing around for clues. We wouldn’t want them stumbling in on something they shouldn’t.”

“Yes, Lord Harbinger!”

In the meantime Childe turned his feet back toward the harbor. He was sure this would all become a headache, and it would be better for his operatives if a target like himself were out of sight during the commotion.

Chapter Text

Childe stepped into Liyue Harbor and straight into the excitement.

“You!” gasped a shrill, childish voice.

It was Paimon, the floating fairy that was always bobbing around—ah, there was the Traveler! Right behind Paimon Lumine stood still, expression pinched in resigned despair. The stranger next to them was tall, with braided white hair, weirdly iridescent eyes, a strangely familiar face, and… a white flower petal stuck at the corner of her mouth.

“What are you doing here?” demanded Paimon. “We just saw you in Inazuma! What kind of schemes are you up to now?”

“You know me, I’m terrible at scheming!” Childe laughed. “And this is where I’ve been stationed. If anything, you’re the ones in my territory.” Lumine looked more and more like she regretted existence, which only made Childe laugh more honestly; she had some pretty dramatic expressions. “If you’re back here, I can only assume that domain in Inazuma wasn’t enough of a workout for you. What do you say, shall we go for another round in the Golden House? I think I can beat you this time.”

“Katheryne told us you were getting stir crazy,” Lumine grumbled.

“We don’t have time for this!” said Paimon, rolling midair to hover over Lumine’s opposite shoulder. “We have to get moving to work on the Jade Chamber, or everyone else will beat us!”

“The Jade Chamber?” Childe echoed. “So you’re in on that competition?”

“Whatever convoluted plans you’ve got going, keep me out of them,” said Lumine.

“Ah, Traveler, you wound me—”

“You’re an obstacle,” the white-haired stranger interrupted. “If you don’t stand aside, I will make you.”

“Wait! Shenhe, no!” cried Paimon.

Strangely enough even Lumine seemed suddenly panicked. “That’s not necessary! It’s really not necessary!”

Shenhe didn’t bat an eye at their floundering. “If I knock his head against the ground a few times, he will be in no state to obstruct our way.”

“Ooh, I would love to see you try,” Childe purred.

Shenhe’s eyes narrowed and she took an aggressive step forward, only for Lumine to throw herself between them.

“Nope! Nope! We’re not doing this!” she said. “We are going to mind our own business, we are not going to ‘eliminate competition,’ and we are going to ignore idiots desperate to get their own butts kicked—”

If she was that frantic, this Shenhe must be a powerhouse. An Adeptus, even, by those eyes. When Childe was first assigned his mission in Liyue he’d been ecstatic about the chance to cross swords with Rex Lapis and the Adepti, but he hadn’t gotten the chance yet. Damnable timing.

“I won’t be blocking your way for much longer,” he said. “I’ve got my own matters to attend to. Good luck with the competition.”

“I feel like that’s a taunt,” Lumine grumbled.

“Think what you want,” Childe laughed, and ascended the stairs to the Northland Bank. He lingered outside the door alongside a few more Fatui members, to watch as Lumine escorted Shenhe quickly away. “That one’s intriguing.”

“Ah,” said Felix, watching their progress, too. “Yes, that woman’s made quite an impression, dropping a huge amount of mora in almost every restaurant....”

“Even more of an impression than I did over the past year?” Childe joked.

“You at least ate the food you purchased,” said Felix. “Miss Shenhe takes two bites and abandons the whole table.”

“Huh,” said Childe, mystified.

Liyue's cuisine was good, and varied. What kind of person turned their nose up at everything?

He shook his head to clear it and said, “Any other news I should be aware of?”

“Regarding the Sunset Vermillionite, the Feiyun Commerce Guild owns the only known piece,” Felix reported. “It’s going up to auction, so the price is massively inflated.”

“Of course. I’m sure we’ll be flooded with customers looking to finance that ambition…”

“The Wonder Cores were forged by the blacksmith Master Zhang of Hanfeng’s Ironmongers, though materials are still unknown at this point.”

“Oh, they’ll be known soon enough.”

“As for the Adepti Sigils, no one seems to have any leads.”

Childe gave a mirthless snort. “If anyone knows what’s good for them, it’ll stay that way.”

Later that day, though, things started to get weird.

Childe was hard at work on legitimate bank tasks when the manager, Andrei, came knocking at the door of his office.

“Excuse me, Lord Harbinger,” he said, “but have you… done anything?”

Childe glanced up at him with a raised brow. “I take it you mean something beyond the usual?”

“Yes. We seem to have gathered quite some attention,” said Andrei.

“Which we were expecting, with the contest,” Childe said slowly, but he was getting a bad feeling about this.

“I suppose it’s less that the bank has gathered attention, and more you specifically. There are multiple visitors asking for you.”

Wait, what? Childe left his desk and peeked out of the office hallway. The bank lobby was indeed crowded with frantically salivating locals.

“Is Master Childe here?” the one at the front was asking Ekaterina at the reception desk. “I need to speak with him, it’s very urgent—”

This one was elbowed aside by a merchant who said, “I need to speak with him more urgently, and I have a reservation for him to dine with me at Liuli Pavilion!”

“Well, I have a reservation for him at Xinyue Kiosk!” cried someone further back in the crowd, and suddenly they were all arguing with each other about Li vs Yue cuisine, which had been a dispute unresolved for generations.

“Master Childe has no such reservations,” Ekaterina called over the commotion, impressively calm despite the situation.

“No, no, he will not be paying! I am footing the bill for the food, as I am the one who made the reservation!” said the merchant.

“Without Master Childe’s input,” Ekaterina said dryly.

“Well, to get a reservation at such a fine dining establishment—”

“Excuse me, miss,” said another man, slipping his way under so many gesturing arms, “and may I say, miss, you look so beautiful today—”

“Everyone please form an orderly line,” said Ekaterina, ignoring him.

“Yes, miss, but please, would you know where Mister Zhongli is? He was in Master Childe’s company for so long—”

Ah, so that’s what this was about. All of these people were taking part in Ningguang’s contest, and Zhongli was their best chance at figuring out how to get all the items. Zhongli could talk for hours about the components that went into anything from the crafting of an antique vase, optimum harvest times for local plants, and the quality of gemstone in an uncut rock that no one else could perceive; he was privy to all kinds of obscure knowledge. If they sat him down for dinner he’d be happy to ramble on about what the contest’s items were, where to find them, and all their potential applications. Yes, Zhongli was the ticket to winning, but he’d also been glaringly absent from Liyue Harbor for the last few weeks.

“Well, now, it looks like I’ve become pretty popular,” said Childe, striding out into the lobby.

The contestants immediately changed direction, flooding away from the reception desk and toward him while babbling about more reservations and mora and a hundred other invitations that got lost in the babble. Childe waved his hand and they immediately went quiet.

“Sorry, but if you’re here to ask where Mister Zhongli is, I can’t help,” he said. “You may have noticed that we’re no longer on speaking terms, so I don’t have the slightest idea where he’s run off to. You’d be better off asking his boss.”

The contestants glanced at each other, looking ill. At least Childe could say he was still more popular in Liyue than Director Hu Tao. It didn’t take much (he didn’t try advertising discount coffins to everyone he met), but it was something.

“She said you would know,” piped up a brave person in the back of the crowd, and they all started talking again.

Childe could feel a headache building.

“Unfortunately I don’t!” he said, loud enough to cut through the noise. “My sincere apologies, but anyone who’s here regarding Zhongli’s whereabouts, please leave. I’ve got nothing for you.”

A few members of the crowd slinked dejectedly out of the bank. Strangely enough, most of them stayed exactly where they were.

“Master Childe,” said that merchant, “I would be greatly honored if you would join me for lunch today. I feel that we’ve missed so many opportunities—”

“Opportunities he squandered happily!” cut in another merchant, pushing his way to the front. “I, on the other hand, have always wanted to do business with you, and have only just come into a position where I can—”

“You’re just so well-traveled, I’ve been desperate to hear more about what you’ve seen throughout Liyue!” cried another merchant, her eyes flashing.

Oh.

Oh, no.

As the crowd competed for his attention, Childe realized that this wasn’t about Zhongli. Someone must’ve name-dropped Childe himself. He’d expected an attempt to pry into Fatui business as a whole with those Adepti Sigils, but this? The worst part was, when he thought about it, it made some sense. Childe had proved he could make and use sigils, but he had also spent months soaking up miscellaneous information from Zhongli so he was supposedly knowledgeable; and he ran around Liyue so much in search of entertainment, it was logical that he could track down any strange material Zhongli might have mentioned, too. Shit, he looked like he could be a potential authority on this thing.

Was this the Qixing’s subtle way of ensuring he couldn’t plot while the Jade Chamber was being built? Just siccing civilians on him so he couldn’t do anything in peace?

Oh, he hated this.

“I’m very busy, so I’m not available to speak with anyone at the moment,” he said, with as much false sweetness as he could manage. “If anyone wishes to set up an appointment with me, please speak with Ekaterina to schedule and then leave. I’m not inclined to speak with anyone who would linger and interfere with the bank’s procedures.”

That did the trick. They all lined up quickly.

“Very good! I’ll be going back to work, then,” said Childe, and retreated to his office. He sat down and held his head in his hands. “Damn the damn Qixing and their damn Tianqian…” When Andrei shuffled back in ten minutes later, he asked, “How bad is it?”

“They’re trying to auction your first available meeting,” said Andrei, who looked very tired. “They decided that whoever was first in line had an unfair advantage, and when Ekaterina advised fighting in the bank would disqualify them from seeing you entirely, they decided to settle it with mora.”

His hands were not enough. Childe planted his face directly onto his desk. “Sweet Tsaritsa. Have my reassignment orders come through yet?”

“Not yet,” Andrei sighed, just as he had every other time Childe had asked over the last three months.

“Damn,” said Childe.

After one more visit to the lobby (“No one here is delaying any of the bank’s work, right?” “N-No, Master Childe!”), Childe holed himself up in his office and worked until the bank closed. By that time the sky was dark and the lanterns lit, and anyone who’d been clamoring for his attention earlier would have moved on to better opportunities or otherwise be busy going home or eating dinner. Childe needed to pick up some ingredients, himself. He mentally reviewed his shopping list as he stood and cracked his back. Yes, all he needed was three more ingredients and then he’d be able to make his beloved seafood soup. He left the office and noted happily that the lobby was empty. He bade good night to Ekaterina, chatted briefly with Nadia about her pen pal (she still hadn’t met Vlad in person, how was that even possible), and left the building in high spirits.

This did not last long.

At the bottom of the stairs, someone made a grab for his arm. Quick as a flash he was back up the stairs, balancing on a railing two stories above ground with a pair of water daggers in his hands.

“Master Childe!” called the culprit, a shopkeeper. “Master Childe, could I convince you to accompany me—”

“He will be accompanying me!” cried another merchant, rushing in.

“I was here first!” said a historian.

“I paid for the first meeting, I’m not letting any of you degenerates get ahead of me—”

It turned out that the bustling crowd outside the bank wasn’t the usual passersby, but a whole flood of people waiting to ambush him. And they were coming up the stairs. Cursing under his breath, Childe flipped himself onto the rooftops and made a break for it. A Millelith down the street caught sight of him, lifted his spear as if to call him out, then saw the pursuing crowd and thought better of it. Childe jumped from the roofs onto the cliffside behind them and started climbing.

“He’s going to Yujing Terrace!” cried the crowd, and after some milling they dashed off toward the stairs to intercept him.

Once he was sure they were far enough away, Childe descended the cliff instead and hustled away behind most of the buildings. He had a close call near the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor—he had to duck behind the notice board to avoid being seen from the main street—but with some more grappling and a smarting ego, he reached Chihu Rock. He skulked behind a tree near the waypoint, scanning his surroundings. There was the grocery store, Second Life: he just needed to get over there, pick up his groceries, and hightail it back to his apartment before any of his false admirers noticed him.

Why did Second Life have to be located on such a wide, busy plaza?

Scratch that, why was he acting like a coward?

Childe grumbled to himself, straightened up, and walked over as if nothing were wrong. Judging by the clerk’s terse smile things were normal in this part of town—grudgingly accepting of his mora instead of desperate for his information. Good. He gathered and paid for his groceries and was turning back to the plaza when he heard, “Look! There he is!”

“Oh, come on,” he snarled.

His pursuers were coming from the bridge and cutting off the route to the docks. Going down toward the Adventurers Guild would get him a dead end and potentially more people looking to fulfill dumb commissions by waylaying him. On the other hand, if he went the other route toward the Golden House and the construction site…

“Childe! Come over here!” Startled, he looked around. Xiangling was waving at him from the back end of Second Life, a basket of ingredients against her hip and her strange little Adeptus pet, Guoba, waving in mimicry. She looked way too excited to see him. “We can lose them this way!”

The only thing that made him trust her was the fact that she didn’t care about Ningguang in the slightest; there would never be a question she wanted answered, because she was too consumed with tinkering with ingredients on her own. Childe vaulted over the fruit display (ignoring the clerk’s complaints) and followed her straight out the back of the building.

“It’s been so long since I’ve seen you!” Xiangling said brightly, leading him in a dash alongside a thin waterway. “You used to come in for lunch all the time with Mister Zhongli, but then you suddenly stopped coming!”

“Yes, well, duty called,” said Childe.

“And I’m calling you back!” she laughed. “Poor Mister Zhongli looked so sad eating on his own, plus I got a Snezhnayan cookbook after helping the Traveler with a commission, and there’s this one recipe I think I can turn it into something new! I wanted to ask a Snezhnayan about the techniques, and you’re perfect for it!"

Poor Mister Zhongli? Yeah, right. If Zhongli was sad, it was because he had to foot the bill himself. Childe had spent a king’s ransom on the man’s culinary and antiquing habits.

Ah, whatever.

Xiangling kept on chattering as Childe followed her away. Eventually they came to a stop at Wanmin Restaurant. She picked up Guoba and tossed him through the window.

“Wow,” said Childe. “Is that… normal?”

“Guoba always lands on his feet,” said Xiangling, and pitched herself through the window, too.

Clearly that was normal. Childe shrugged and climbed after them with a little more grace. He found himself in Wanmin’s kitchen, with Chef Mao already hard at work on several dishes.

“Well, now, look who’s come to visit,” Chef Mao laughed, just as easily as his daughter. That… wasn’t expected. Sure, Child had dropped a lot of mora here over the past two years, but he had also unleashed Osial. He very much did unleash Osial and Liyue knew that, so there was no reason for Mao to be acting so blasé. “Did you want to order your usual, Master Childe?”

“No, just dropping by,” said Childe.

“Literally,” Xiangling giggled. 

Mao shrugged good naturedly. “If you say so, but I’m sure if you stand here long enough the Jade Parcels will be calling your name.”

“I’ll give you some for free if you look at my book,” said Xiangling, and from a cupboard she pulled out a tome.

“Archons,” said Childe, staring as she set it down on a table with a heavy thunk. “That has to weigh as much as you do.”

“Maybe! I’m pretty strong from carrying Gouba, though,” said Xiangling, flexing her arms.

She’d started flipping through pages of what Childe was pretty sure was actually an alchemy book, when someone came up to the kitchen window.

“Chef Mao! Do you know if the Snezhnayan diplomat is here tonight?”

Really? Seriously? Childe ducked under the table to remain out of sight.

“I haven’t seen him recently, no,” Chef Mao lied. 

“I can’t find him anywhere,” the customer groaned. “How about Mister Zhongli, has he been here?”

“Not in weeks,” said Mao. “I know he’s capable, but has anyone seen him at all? We may have to send out a search party to be sure he hasn’t gotten lost in the countryside…”

“I mean, we could just send Childe out toward wherever Zhongli’s last job was. I’m sure he’d find him in a heartbeat. Right, Guoba?” said Xiangling.

“Guo!” went Guoba, who had no comprehension of what was being said.

Childe sent them a look of betrayal.

“It’s terrible!” said the customer, oblivious. “Now I’ll never figure out how to get those Adepti Sigils! Oh, Chef Mao, it’s hopeless…”

The customer complained some more before Mao managed to convince her to enter the restaurant proper and buy some food.

“You’ll be able to plan much better on a full stomach!” he laughed. “Xiangling, could you help me with this?”

“Sure!”

Xiangling sprang back up and took over a few of the pots on the stove. Childe crept out from under the table to take a proper seat while Guoba kept merrily turning pages in the book. The peace lasted barely three minutes before the kitchen door opened, and in slipped another teenager. This one was Xingqiu, second son to the head of the Feiyun Commerce Guild: easily identified by his voluminous sleeves, the eternal presence of a novel on his person, and constant talk of chivalry.

“My liege,” he said, without actually looking up, “I beg your assistance. I need somewhere to hide. It’s getting ridiculous.”

“You too, huh?” said Childe.

Xingqiu startled. His face went on a journey—surprise, offense, regret, and then settling on resignation. “Ah. Master Diplomat.”

“Young lord,” Childe teased. “Let me guess, you’re also avoiding Ningguang’s contest?”

“Oh? You’ve been caught up in it?”

“Believe me, I’m just as confused about that as you are.”

Xingqiu looked him up and down more carefully, and he started to smile. Slyly. Ooh, no. Childe did not like a sneaky Xingqiu.  

“My liege,” Xingqiu said with an absolutely venomous level of sweetness, “are you perhaps an expert in one of the needed materials?”

“We’re not talking about that!” Xiangling said brightly, and dropped a plate of Jade Parcels on the little table between them. “He’s looking at my cookbook for me.”

“About that, I don’t think this is a cookbook,” said Childe.

“It sure is!” said Xiangling. “Turn the page. There’s that recipe with slime condensate—”

Childe did turn the page, and there was a recipe with slime condensate as an ingredient, but it was also very much not a food item.

“Xiangling, this is a sham potion claiming to give normal people elemental sight. That has nothing to do with cooking.”

“I’ve heard that people with visions have more enhanced senses of taste!” Xiangling chirped. “If I can open up someone’s world to new flavors they’ve never experienced, even temporarily, wouldn’t that be great?”

“But it’s a potion, not a food dish,” said Childe.

“That’s fine! Everyone can learn from other disciplines!” said Xiangling. “You heard about that Mondstadt alchemist who came to learn perfume making from Ying’er, right? Apparently she really helped his techniques! When you think about it alchemy and cooking aren’t so different, so why shouldn’t I be able to find inspiration there?”

“Okay, but this recipe also calls for lizard tails, butterfly dust, and fish scales,” said Childe.

Xiangling was undaunted. “Diona in Mondstadt has made plenty of delicious things with ingredients like that, and everyone thought I was strange for some of the ingredients that made some of my best work! I’m sure I can figure something out.”

Childe opened his mouth. Closed it. He couldn’t argue that because Xiangling was the queen of making delicious food from bizarre ingredients. Yes, the book detailed how mixing this wrong could cause explosions or melt pots, but that was nothing to the girl who’d almost destroyed her kitchen with experiments already. He started stuffing his face with parcels instead, hoping to make a break for it when her back was turned because—

“If you help me out, I’ll let you do some taste testing!” Xiangling turned to Xingqiu, beaming. “You’ll help taste test too, right? Your input was so good on my last dish—”

“Hm,” said Xingqiu, and shoved a parcel into his own mouth.

“Maybe you should be the one to find Zhongli,” said Childe, picking up another. “He’s scarily sensitive when it comes to tastes.”

It would also serve him right, after tricking Childe.

“I’ll ask him when I’m fine-tuning it,” said Xiangling. “I’ve got to get the basics down first. If I give him a mess, he won’t even know how to direct me. Oh, hang on, I need to check on the stove—”

She hurried off again. Childe and Xinqiu stayed quiet a while, both munching on food and eyeing the alchemy book like it might bite. Childe wondered if Xingqiu also wished he could throw the book into the fire. He was sure Xiangling would make something amazing, but he really, really didn’t want to try her experiments. All the more reason to stay at home for the foreseeable future. Xingqiu didn’t have that option, being a friend instead of a customer. He’d probably suffer a lot of stomach pain. May the Tsaritsa have mercy on his soul.

“It’s about the Adepti Sigils, isn’t it?” asked Xingqiu.

That was so far off of Childe’s current train of thought that he simply blinked at him for a moment. “Excuse me?”

“Why everyone’s after you for the contest,” said Xingqiu. “They think you can make sigils for them.”

“I can’t,” said Childe.

“But they think you can,” said Xingqiu.

Childe groaned. “They think I know about all of it. They think I’m Zhongli Jr. with all the esoteric trivia, just because I had a few meals with the man—”

“I’d say more than a few meals,” Xingqiu chuckled.

“The point remains: I’m not Zhongli, and I don’t know any more about any of those items than your average citizen does. Probably less!” said Childe. “You’ve got the same situation, don’t you? Feiyun Commerce Guild has that one piece of Sunset Vermillionite, and I’ll bet everyone automatically thinks you know where to mine more of it.”

Xinqiu frowned, but also looked… faintly guilty? “That is unfortunately the case, and I don’t know where to find more. The contestants have become near unbearable in their insistence…”

“How much is that piece going for right now, by the way?” asked Childe, picking up another parcel.

“Five hundred million mora,” said Xingqiu.

It was a good thing Childe hadn’t actually tried to eat that parcel yet or he would’ve choked on it. “Five hundred million?”

“And climbing,” Xingqiu said dully.

Childe put down the parcel and regarded Xingqiu with some genuine concern. “You all have sufficient security, right? Not only for the Sunset Vermillionite, but for yourselves and your workers, too? I can imagine some desperate people making some very risky moves.”

“That’s already taken care of. My father and brother made such preparations as soon as they heard of Ningguang’s list,” said Xingqiu. “Though not even they expected it to spiral to this point…”

“Expect it to get worse,” said Childe. “I had contestants storm the bank and try bidding with mora for my earliest meeting times.”

“They what?” said Xingqiu, baffled.

“I know,” said Childe. “We told them we weren’t accepting that so it fell apart pretty fast. I mostly hid in my office after that but I think my first meeting for tomorrow was decided by a very high stakes rock-paper-scissors game. Also, the reason I’m here right now is because I got ambushed while grocery shopping.”

Now Childe was the one being looked at in concern. “You were ambushed?”

“Like fruit paste bait in a medaka pond,” said Childe.

Xingqiu shook his head. “What is Liyue Harbor coming to?”

“I don’t know, but I for one will be glad when this is over,” said Childe. “Hopefully Lumine finds the materials quickly.”

“Oh?” Xingqiu tipped his head in curiosity. “You know that she’s competing?”

“I had the pleasure of running into her and her new friend Shenhe,” Childe chuckled. “Pretty aggressive, that one.”

“Yes, I spoke with her briefly, as well,” said Xingqiu. “Shenhe seemed… familiar, somehow.”

“You felt that way, too?” said Childe.

“You also found her familiar? Then she’s like someone we both know?” said Xingqiu, brow furrowing.

Childe shrugged. They were both wealthy people in the same city, but that didn’t mean they moved in the same circles. Any overlap would largely be for business.

“ I’ll bet any money that Lumine’s going to win,” he said. “She’s got the networking skills, the cleverness, and the brute force if that’s needed. I doubt someone who took out Stormterror, Osial, and the actual Electro Archon is going to let a few little materials get in her way. Plus, she seems to operate on sheer dumb luck. She might just trip over a rock and find that it’s miraculously a Wonder Core.”

Xingqiu snorted. “She does indeed always seem to be in the right place at the right time.”

“It’s uncanny,” Childe agreed. “I might even call it sneaky, but there’s no way she could keep any secrets with Paimon around.”

“I wasn’t aware you were so well acquainted with her,” said Xingqiu.

“We beat each other up in the Golden House every other week,” Childe chirped.

“Wait— The Golden House? Teyvat’s mint?” said Xingqiu. “They let you in every other week? I’ve never been in there at all.”

“I think the Millelith let us do it because of Lumine’s reputation, plus they can see me get my ass kicked every time. With Fatui resentment at an all-time high, why wouldn’t they find that entertaining?” Childe laughed. It was a little bitter, but as long as the situation worked out and he could keep his fighting routine, he didn’t care what the Millelith thought.

Xingqiu frowned. “If you lose every time, why do you do it?”

Childe shook his head in amusement as he picked up the parcel again. “For the same reason anyone plays a game, even when there’s a clear favorite. The future’s not set in stone, and one of these times I’ll get the upper hand. Until then, it’s good exercise. If I didn’t fight somebody on the regular, I’d probably go insane.”

“You’ve only ever fought Lumine, though?” said Xingqiu.

“I want a real challenge. There’s no fun in fighting someone who isn’t ready for you,” said Childe.

Xingqiu frowned deeper. “So you only have interest in an even match?”

“Of course.”

“Then you have no interest in targeting unarmed civilians?”

What? Oh, wait. He remembered vaguely that Javert had been involved in some scheme up in Qingce Village relating to a client manipulating the cor lapis market earn back their debt… Javert had played along to get the money, only for that plan to crash and burn because the Feiyun Commerce Guild had been involved in the market too, and Xingqiu had played the hero against the Fatui bullying other merchants. The ordeal had likely soured Xingqiu’s impression of the Northland Bank’s operatives.

Or maybe, you know, he was thinking of the Osial Incident.  

“No,” said Childe, pretending he had no idea what this was about. “What kind of villain do you take me for?”

Xingqiu gave him a thoughtful look over his linked hands and said, “A confusing one.”

What was that supposed to mean? Whatever the case, this odd conversation seemed to satisfy Xingqiu, because he looked much more relaxed.

“Now, my liege, correct me if I’m wrong, but you're quite enamored with fishing, are you not? I seem to remember hearing your bank employees bragging about you wrestling some kind of sea monster back in Snezhnaya?”

Why were the Fatui bragging about that when they were already in a shitty situation with another aquatic monster? Why would they keep drawing attention to that? Hopefully this was some old news from before they sprang Osial. Childe grinned and said, “There are plenty of fish in the sea, and plenty big ones, too. I'm not sure you'd classify anything I've caught as a sea monster, though.”

“Have you ever fished up anything that looked like the sea monster Haishan?” asked Xingqiu.

“Ah, well, I’ve never seen Haishan, so I'd have to ask Captain Beidou…”

They stayed on the subject for a while, Xingqiu asking for vivid details about the larger and stranger fish he'd seen outside of Liyue, what they looked like, how they moved, and how aggressive they'd been on the line, and partway through he started scribbling notes. Childe remembered suddenly that not only did he read a lot of novels, Xingqiu had written them, too. Wasn’t one of his self-published works a bestseller in Inazuma? How interesting, to be used for book research instead of the contest… They’d passed a long while there and the parcels were gone when Xiangling turned back to them, wiping the sweat off her brow.

“You two are getting along much better,” she teased.

“I think we are both men who understand civility,” said Xingqiu, but he was already fidgeting with excitement at writing whatever beast he’d come up with, and neither of the others were fooled.

“Great!” Xiangling clapped her hands in delight. “You know what will top off this great new friendship? Some more food! I have a first draft of the recipe I was thinking of from that book, and I whipped it up while you were talking—”

Oh, no.

“Actually,” Childe said quickly, “I’ve been here far too long. I’m sure if I stay out much longer my coworkers will be actively worried for my health. I’d better get back to them.” And, because he wasn’t about to abandon Xingqiu and lose whatever favor he’d managed to gain, “Didn’t you say you were needed for a meeting tonight? It can’t be much longer before that starts.”

“Ah, yes,” said Xingqiu, smoothly taking the excuse. “My father will be quite irritated if I’m not in attendance, and I do need to keep up with any news on the competition. I’ll be taking my leave as well, but thank you for the food.”

“Don’t think I don’t know what you two are doing,” said Xiangling, giving them a mockingly critical look. “You’ll taste test eventually! It is pretty late though, so I’ll check in with you about it later. Have a good night! In the meantime—” She skipped to the door to the restaurant itself, poked out her head, and called, “Who wants to try a new dish?”

Judging by the resulting rumbling from the customers most of them were just as wary as Childe and Xingqiu, but a few brave gourmands volunteered in hope of future success (or maybe future discounts). That was Childe’s cue to leave before any customers caught sight of him. He said a quick goodbye to Xiangling and Chef Mao, and left through the window again. Xingqiu was right behind him. They walked together back to Feiyun Slope, avoiding the main crowd as best they could. It was impossible to avoid everyone in a city as eternally busy as Liyue Harbor, but the people who spotted them dared not stop them; apparently, while targets on their own, the Fatui Harbinger and the son of the Feiyun Commerce Guild were too unknowable as a united force for anyone to be confident approaching. They reached the area of the Fatui’s apartments in short time, but Xingqiu’s home was further on.

“Are you going to be okay, getting back?” asked Childe, because he was a sucker for kids, and Xingqiu may have been a teenager but he still fit into that category in his head.

“I would be much more worried about yourself, Master Fruit Paste Bait,” Xingqiu replied cheekily. “I know how to avoid the people I don’t want to talk to here. It will be far easier now that the initial crowd has disbursed.”

Sure enough, when he walked away it was with complete serenity. Childe shook his head in amusement and exasperation. He passed the Fatui guards on duty and climbed the stairs to his apartment. He put away his groceries, relaxed a little with a light dinner, then started preparing for bed. As he pulled the window screen closed, he noticed something flickering outside. There were plenty of lanterns strung about the city, but this was too specific, too jarring. Someone was signaling him with a lamp from one of the opposite walkways. Was it one of his Fatui, trying to send a secret message for some reason? He peered through the crack in the screen, piecing it together… then slumped.

“D-O-Y-O-U-K-N-O-W-A-B-O-U-T-S-I-G-I-L-S?” the message read.

Childe angled his vision into the gap and made it flare a few times to send a message right back: “G-O-A-W-A-Y.”

He pulled the screen shut fully, and stormed off to bed.  

The Jade Chamber contestants weren’t any more forgiving, the next day.

No, they were more relentless. It was like seeing that first day tick by without progress had lit an even more desperate fire under them.

One of them had managed to get into Childe’s office at the bank.

“It has to be one of them,” he said, leaning against the doorway with a hand against his head as he stared at his desk. It was covered with an assortment of noctilucous jade and cor lapis, arranged to leave his actual workspace clear but catching the light from the window like some extravagant shop display. The desk practically glowed under them.

“We didn’t detect anyone,” said Ekaterina, from just behind him. She looked just as disturbed as he did. “No one on the night shift saw or heard anything.”

“I’m so sorry, my lord,” said Nadia, who’d been on that night shift. “It was a terrible oversight. I should’ve—”

“Don’t beat yourself up about it,” said Childe. “I know how thorough you are.”

Nadia was mild mannered, but she made up for that in attention to detail and a pair of daggers ready to slice out any trespasser’s kidneys. She wasn’t an easy person to fool. Whoever got past her must’ve been very talented indeed. None of the merchants he’d run into were stealthy or clever enough to have managed it, but some of them had deep pockets. They could’ve hired someone to grab Childe’s attention.

“Was there any note left with them?” asked Childe.

“None,” said Nadia. “There are no identifiers left beyond the stones themselves— no note, no symbols, no spells, no traps. The door and window were locked and there are no signs of tampering. We aren’t professional appraisers, but they all appear to be very high-quality stones. The culprit must be very rich indeed to part with them so readily.”

“We still have the list of those competitors in the mining business, don’t we? Check over them and see if anyone’s missing inventory. Maybe someone decided to give a gift, or maybe someone’s decided to frame someone else to hurt their chances in the competition,” said Childe. “Whoever it is, we need to track down who or what they used to get in here. Until we’ve taken care of that, I can’t consider any of our dealings to be fully secure.”

In other words, they needed to rule out the possibility of a Fatui member turning traitor or taking bribes. For someone to have gotten all the way into a Harbinger’s office without forcing entry, while dodging Nadia’s notice… the clear answer would be one of his own men. Childe was something of an oddball among the Harbingers in that he gave his operatives a lot of freedom as long as they met their objectives, and he liked that. He really hoped it wasn’t going to bite him in the ass. The other Harbingers would be insufferable about it. With a heavy sigh, Childe strode toward the desk.

“Sir?” said Nadia, surprised. “Are you really going to work there? This office has been compromised, Andrei was already setting up for you to work in one of the empty ones—”

“You already checked it all over for anything harmful. I trust your judgement, and I need to see if anything of mine was removed. Besides,” he sighed, dropping into his chair, “given the crowd yesterday I’m sure I’ve got meetings with some potential suspects today. If they were dumb enough to plant their bribes like this, they’re dumb enough to react when confronted with them.”

Childe stretched out his arms and took stock of the desk from this angle. Very sparkly. He felt a little bit like he was in a gemstone mine. He was sensitive to the presence of elemental abilities even if he couldn’t always identify their purpose, and he wasn’t picking up anything from these rocks beyond their natural presence. They were very nice specimens, though. The cor lapis glowed, an orangey warmth around the edges with vibrant gold in its core. It was reminiscent of a Geo vision. Reminiscent of Zhongli’s eyes. Childe averted his own gaze quickly.

“So,” he said, “what’s my schedule look like for today?”

His schedule looked like a nightmare. Almost every spare moment had been blocked out for meetings with the Jade Chamber contestants.

“At least you’ll get free lunch out of it,” Ekaterina said dryly.

“I hate everything about this,” said Childe, but quickly summoned a smile to his face as the first meeting was called in.

If he was looking for any signs of guilt in the morning meetings, he didn’t get it. Most of the guests were downright boggled by the array on his desk. One of them mumbled something about, “Is this what it’s like in Northland Bank?” and another one looked near tears with reverence at one of the larger chunks of noctilucous jade. The meetings were no longer than fifteen minutes each, and all went through the same process: You’re sure you’re not here for Zhongli? Great! I can’t help you. I don’t know where to find plaustrite of any kind. I’ve never heard of a Wonder Core and it’s clearly not natural so you should talk to an artisan. Sigils? Ha! You think I could handle Adepti Sigils? That’s very kind of you but you overestimate my connections and my resistance to Adeptal energy. Osial? What a frightening day that was! I wasn’t involved. He successfully convinced three of them that Lumine was the key to winning. It wasn’t like that was a lie; Lumine was friends with several Adepti and had fought with them against Osial, so was clearly the better option to source things from. So what if she was using the knowledge for herself in the competition?

For lunch he went to Liuli Pavilion. He recognized all the staff, and was clearly recognized in turn. They seated him at the usual table. He sat in his usual chair. How many times had he been here, fumbling with chopsticks while Zhongli waxed poetic about the skill needed to produce a perfectly braised Tianshu Meat dish? It was not Zhongli with him at the table now. It was a pompous ore merchant who prattled on about his connections and made not-so-subtle hints that any information Childe gave him would be greatly rewarded. It all felt wrong. Irritation clawed at his chest. Why was he using a fork? Why was he putting up with this nonsense? Why had he agreed to go here of all locations? He wished he’d spent his lunch hour with one of the fools from this morning; maybe they hadn’t been smart, but none of them had been under the impression that they were Celestia’s gift to humanity. Even Zhongli got embarrassed when people spoke too highly of him, and he'd literally raised mountains and founded the biggest commerce hub in Teyvat. What gave this merchant the right to be so arrogant?

“—And you know, that’s not even counting my friends in Fontaine,” the merchant was saying smarmily. “After I bring all the materials for the Jade Chamber and impress Lady Ningguang, my influence will dominate the market.”

One answer. That was the Archons-damned prize. One honest answer from a human woman. There was no way one honest answer would let anyone dominate any market!

“Hmm,” said Childe, and shoveled another forkful of food into his mouth so he didn’t have to say any actual words. He’d been doing that the whole time and was reaching stomach capacity, but he was still grateful when the waitress brought more food to distract himself with.

“It’s a good business opportunity to form partnerships at the beginning,” said the merchant. “Why, even Lady Ningguang invests in small businesses with the expectation that their future success will bolster her wealth and influence. The stars shine bright on my enterprise. I’m guaranteed for riches. So, what do you say, Master Diplomat? Would you care to join in on my success?”

The merchant leaned forward with a smirk, like he’d just offered a goldmine.

“Hmm,” said Childe, and took another bite.

The merchant watched him chew, and when he took another bite, the smirk faltered. “Ah, remember, Master Diplomat, you don’t even need to invest mora. A few words, some hints, that’s all I need, and I always remember my friends.”

“Friends, huh?” Childe said flatly.

“Yes,” said the merchant, more uncertainly. “Friends.”

Childe set aside his fork. “Well then, friend, I’m going to tell you the same thing that I’ve told every single person who’s come to me today, the same thing I told you yesterday at the bank and today even before we sat down, and that is the fact that I can’t help you.”

The merchant gaped. “But— but—”

“I can’t.” Childe gave an exaggerated shrug. “I don’t know anything more about the Jade Chamber’s construction than what was already announced by Lady Ningguang. I’m not from Liyue. I don’t recognize any references that might exist. Besides that, considering public opinion on the Fatui right now, if I were in any way involved, you might risk the Tianquan’s wrath more than her favor. I’m not willing to put either of us in hot water for nothing.”

“But you have to know!” said the merchant.

“I don’t.”

“The Sunset Vermillionite—”

“I fiddled with some little plaustrite pieces making a xiao lantern at the last Lantern Rite, but that’s the extent of my experience,” said Childe, standing up.

“The Wonder Cores—”

“Never heard of them until yesterday,” said Childe, pushing in his chair and turning to leave. “You’d be better off checking to see what artisans the Qixing might trust to make something like that.”

The merchant leapt to his feet with a snarl and blocked his path.

“Don’t play games with me, Fatui scum!” he cried, catching the attention of all the other diners. “You know everything already! Your spies crawl through the city searching for secrets every day. You know every material Lady Ningguang needs, and you know how to get them! You’ve already proven you can, haven’t you? You’re the one who released Osial! The only way you could do that is with Adepti Sigils. You stole them, or made them somehow, all to destroy Liyue Harbor! You almost brought ruin on us once with them! Did you use them to assassinate Rex Lapis, too?”

Childe began to smile. It was the sharp smile, the one that matched the lightless depth of his eyes and made unfortunate victims shake.

“Me? Assassinate Rex Lapis?” he drawled. “Are you that far behind the times? Rex Lapis wasn’t assassinated at all. The Qixing confirmed he failed a heavenly trial.”

“Everyone knows that’s garbage!” said the merchant, but he was paling at Childe’s expression. “And even if— Even so, you used sigils to raise Osial—”

“Says who?” said Childe. “Do you think the Qixing would sit on their asses and let me run around freely if they had even a shred of proof for that?”

The merchant spluttered. Childe stepped closer. He was only a little taller than the merchant, but looming like this was really more about attitude than height. He fixed the merchant with the full, weighty gaze of the Tsaritsa’s Eleventh Harbinger and said, calm and deceptively soft, “I don’t have time to stand around listening to false accusations. I have work to get back to. Get out of my way.”

The merchant stumbled aside. Childe gave a mirthless snort, held his head high, and left the restaurant. Luckily no one was waiting to accost him outside.

Adventurer, his mind pinged, aimless but still alert as he crossed back over toward the bank. Fishmonger, sailor, chef. He identified everyone he walked past. The streets of Liyue Harbor were always busy, but today there was a very specific and frantic subgrouping. One of the exorcist clans, notable by their pale hair and paler clothes, had seemingly every member of the extended family running themselves ragged in search for something. Or more likely, someone, judging by how they kept peeking into shops and restaurants as if their quarry might be sitting at one of the tables. Maybe they had a lost guest? Who knew. Childe reached the bank without anyone slowing him down, retreated to his office, and sat down at his desk again.

Ah.

Alone at last.

Alone with a bunch of rocks.

He rested his head on his folded arms and groaned, “I can’t wait to be reassigned.”

Liyue Harbor’s rumor mill ran fast as a rule, but when someone as suddenly popular as Childe made a scene, the entire city seemed to be aware of it within the hour. His afternoon meetings were stilted as people seemed to be doubly wary of him, and some failed to show up entirely. That was fine. It gave Childe some time to breathe, even if he would normally be annoyed by the lack of professionalism. Eventually Ekaterina took pity on him and gave him a debt collection assignment so he could escape the city and all other appointments for the day.

“I owe you,” he said as he rushed out the doors.

“You’ve said that enough times, you’d better hope I never cash in that debt,” Ekaterina replied.

The debt collection was easy. He went to a house outside of the harbor, talked to a remarkably pleasant young man who handed over the funds easily (he clearly didn’t know who Childe was), and away he went to find something else to entertain himself with before the sun went down. He ended up finding a Ruin Guard. That was fun for all of fifteen minutes. As the machine whined its way to a crumpled heap and Childe dismissed his water blades, he heard movement in the trees behind him.

“I hope you’re not dumb enough to think you can sneak up on me,” he called.

“Oh, no, I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Childe cringed. Ying’er. Oh, Archons. What had he done to deserve this (apart from nearly destroying Liyue Harbor)? It was fine when Childe went to visit her on rare occasion when he could mentally prepare himself, but now? Really? He put on his best smile and turned to face her.

“Ying’er! How lovely to see you.”

“How lovely to see you, too,” said Ying’er, batting her eyelashes. This didn’t quite manage to distract from the fact she was holding a notepad and pen. “You haven’t come to see me recently. Are you so quick to spurn your acquaintances? How naughty.”

“Hm, I thought it might be better to give you some space. I heard you were spending some time with that alchemist from Mondstadt,” said Childe.

“You thought one man was all it took to keep me busy? I’ll have you know I’m very good at multitasking,” she purred.

How that poor alchemist had kept up with her constant implications, Childe had no idea.

“Well, as pleasant as it is to catch up with you, I’m afraid I’m being expected elsewhere,” Childe lied. “There’s more Hilichurls to take care of, you know. I have to make my quota.”

“Can I come along? I’d love to see more of you… in action.” Her eyes swept up and down his body, but it wasn’t flirtatious as usual. She was very specifically cataloguing his appearance. What exactly had she been writing?

“You have no idea how thrilled I’d be to spend more time with you, but I’m afraid if you came along I’d be far too distracted,” Childe purred.

Ying’er laughed. “Young men do seem so easily distracted by my appearance…”

“How about we postpone for now, until I can be a proper gentleman for you?” said Childe.

“Oh, there’s no need for propriety with me.”

Uuuuuuuuugh.

“Only the best for you, my dear,” he said, backing off fast. “With that Ruin Guard gone this area is clear. You can head on back to Liyue Harbor, and I’ll reach out to you as soon as I’m free, how’s that?”

“I wonder how long you can resist?” she giggled.

He could resist a lot! A whole hell of a lot! Luckily Ying’er seemed to accept this dismissal, and Childe was able to flee with some form of dignity. She did try to follow, though. At a distance. But for all her hidden skills, she was still a civilian with no hunting experience. He lost her easily. She gave up and retreated back to Liyue Harbor, and Childe watched her go from the shadow of one of the cliffs, making a mental note to assign an agent to monitor her. She wasn’t the type to take part in Ningguang’s contest, but those notes… those had him very suspicious.

When he finally returned to the harbor himself, the sun was down. A few people spotted him and tried to approach with questions, but he melted seamlessly into the crowd to lose them every time. The exorcists were still running around in the streets, much more tired and exasperated than before but determined to find whoever they’d lost track of. The Millelith were thin today, probably stretched to cover the Jade Chamber’s construction site and the Guili Assembly in addition to their usual routes.

“Any news?” he asked the Fatui guards as he stepped into the apartment building.

The guards didn’t get a chance to open their mouths before Ekaterina said, “Don’t come to work tomorrow.”

She was sitting on the stairs with her head in her hands, absolutely radiating irritation.

“Did something happen with the office?” said Childe, brow furrowing. Had the strange stones turned out to be dangerous after all? Had someone broken in?

“If I have to handle one more of those damn contestants, I’m going to throttle them,” said Ekaterina.

Childe winced and sat down on the stair beside her. “Give it to me straight.”

“A rumor came around that you and Xingqiu of the Feiyun Commerce Guild are in league with each other,” said Ekaterina. “Apparently that marks you as trustworthy and even more knowledgeable than before, because interest has renewed in you tenfold. Contestants tried to bully their way into the offices to see you this afternoon.”

“Oh, Archons,” Childe groaned. “The Millelith—”

“Dispatched one person to address the chaos, who wasn’t inclined to help we Fatui much at all,” said Ekaterina. “They were relentless. They only stopped when I told them you were gone for the day, and even then only after someone confirmed Ying’er had seen you outside of the city. Andrei took the opportunity to announce that you’re on leave for at least a week.” She turned to look at him, frustrated and exhausted. “We couldn’t get a single thing done while they were there, and they scared off all of our customers. We have too few of those to risk losing any more.”

Childe rubbed at his face, suddenly very, very tired. “I get it. If we want to stay afloat we can’t sabotage ourselves. I’ll stay away from the bank, make myself obvious somewhere else so they don’t bother you.”

“That would be appreciated,” said Ekaterina.

“You know, when I considered the idea of being a wanted man in Liyue, this is not what I’d anticipated,” Childe grumbled.

Ekaterina gave a mirthless laugh.

Chapter Text

The next morning, Childe woke up with a plan.

He needed to be somewhere extremely obvious, where a huge number of people could see him without being able to gang up on him. It just so happened that he had a golden opportunity for that today. He went out to buy breakfast from a food stall, and once he was sure he had the attention of several stalkers, walked away from the bank’s vicinity, past the still-searching exorcist clan, and up to Yujing Terrace.

In the plaza outside the Yuehai Pavilion, Ningguang had set up an auction. She wasn’t present, but most of Liyue’s elite were here even while their cronies were out hunting for Jade Chamber materials. The air buzzed with excitement because the items for sale today were from Ningguang’s personal collection. Some people were here to gawk at the supplies their oh-so-fantastic Lady Ningguang had used in mundane life, as if they were holy relics; some believed if they had Ningguang’s possessions, some echo of her competence might rub off on them, too; others were rabid collectors; still others just wanted to be seen at such an important event.

Childe was part of the last group. He made extra sure to stroll to the front of the crowd to examine what was on offer, and stalled in front of each item so the crowd behind him could gossip with still more excitement. Yes, that goal was easily and readily achieved. It was a good thing he hadn’t been interested in the auction itself, because he would’ve been severely disappointed on that front.

The auction items were, quite honestly, boring.

The hairpin was well made, but there was nothing interesting about it. The writing tools were generic. The vase was plain, with a chip in the side. These items were all function and no decoration, and near identical ones could likely be found in Liyue’s market for a fraction of the price they’d sell for here. If asked about it later Ningguang would probably say something along the lines of “people will only bid for what they consider the item’s value,” and yeah, technically the auction’s attendees were setting their own prices, but they’d bid high just because her name was attached to these things. It felt like a big scam. Ugh. And he was probably going to have to bid on some of these just to drive in his presence at this event. He didn’t want to pay some ungodly sum for an ugly teacup! Hopefully Ningguang’s fans wouldn’t immediately back off when faced with the Northland Bank’s reserves… When he turned away from the items, half of the attendees still had their eyes on him.

“What a surprise to see you here, Master Diplomat!” simpered a woman close by. “I wonder, did something specific catch your eye?”

“I suppose you’ll find out in the bidding process,” said Childe, with a wink.

The crowd twittered with anticipation.

“Master Diplomat, did you come with someone or were you still looking for a seat?” a man said eagerly. “I’d reserved a spot for my coworker who is unable to come, so if you’d like a place near the front—”

“I can get you a seat with a better view!” said someone else, and then they started dogpiling the way all the merchants had done at the Northland Bank.

“Not necessary!” Childe called over them. “I actually have a seat planned already, so—”

“Where would that be, sir?”

“Yes, we would be honored with your presence if—”

“May I have a moment of your time, Master Diplomat?”

Okay, this was getting to be too much. Childe backed away from the item table, fake smile glued to his face as he concentrated on giving everyone non-answers and staying out of reach. He was in fact so concentrated on this that he backed up further even than anticipated, and bumped into a table.

“Oh!” He turned fast and seized the handle of a teapot to keep it from tipping. “Sorry about that. I didn’t knock anything over, did I?”

“Not at all,” said the old woman on the table’s other side, calm as if her possessions hadn’t rattled at all. “Master Childe, was it?”

“That’s right. And you’re… Madame Ping?”

He knew of Madame Ping, of course. She seemed a permanent fixture of Yujing Terrace, with her teapot set up on a table at the top of the stairs, right alongside a spot where the glaze lilies grew. She was also an Adeptus. Some of his agents had reported the sight of an old woman among the Adepti in the battle against Osial, and that fit right in with the mysterious, I-know-everything-you-don’t smile on her face.

“That’s right,” she said in her creaky voice. “Would you care to sit down here with an old lady? All the way here at the back we don’t have the best view, but I can offer you some tea.”

And a break from the crowd. While the auction’s attendees seemed to have no respect for personal space normally, they did seem to respect age, and had given the tea table a wide berth.

“Don’t mind if I do,” said Childe, and sat in one of the chairs along its side. “Forgive me, but aren’t you usually at the end of Yujing Terrace? I’ve never seen your table this deep into the plaza.”

“My usual spot didn’t have a very good vantage point for the proceedings,” Madame Ping chuckled. “I won’t be partaking in the auction, but a friend of mine was quite interested in the outcome…”

Wait. Friend? A friend coming over for tea with an old Adeptus?

“Ah,” said Childe, feeling his smile go rigid. “And who might that friend—”

“Granny, I’m here!”

It was not Zhongli. Much better (or potentially worse), the person bounding up to them happened to be Yanfei, half-Adeptus and top legal advisor in Liyue. Where Madame Ping could pass for human very easily, Yanfei didn’t bother to try; the antlers sticking out from under her hat were a dead giveaway.  

“Ooh, and who’s this?” she said as she came alongside them, eyes bright. “Granny, what did you do to convince the Snezhnayan diplomat to hang out with you? I hear he’s in very high demand these days.”

“I simply picked the most beautiful company here,” said Childe.

Madame Ping burst into laughter. “Oh, I was quite the vain beauty in my day…”

“What a flatterer. I wondered how you’d made such an impression, but I never guessed that.” Yanfei took the last open chair next to Childe. “Ah, well, just goes to show that he’s a man with hidden depths…”

“You thought I wasn’t?” said Childe, with a raised brow.

“I wasn’t referring to you,” said Yanfei.

Any further conversation was interrupted as the auction was called to order. Madame Ping gave each of them a cup of tea while the other attendees hastened to their seats. The auction was being presided over by Ningguang’s three prized secretaries, with Baiwen standing front and center before a folding screen patterned with a ship on the water (the Alcor?) against a backdrop of Liyue’s rocky coast. One of the secretaries placed the first item on the table in front of her; the motion was done with great dignity, which seemed silly when the item was a single plain teacup.

“The first lot is a teacup from Lady Ningguang’s personal collection,” said Baiwen. “Bids will be starting at ten thousand mora. Do I hear any offers?”

Childe winced. That was a lot already, but…

“Twenty thousand mora!” called a woman in the audience.

“Thirty thousand!” cried an older man.

“Fifty thousand,” drawled a younger man.

Shit, he needed to get in there before it got higher and he risked paying something even more stupidly expensive. Childe raised his hand and called, “Sixty thousand mora!”

Yanfei whistled. Madame Ping covered her smile with one hand. The other attendees gaped at him. The older man’s face went red with anger, and he leapt out of his seat to shout, “Eighty thousand! Eighty thousand over here!”

“I’ll raise it to a hundred thousand!” called the first woman, leaping out of her own seat.

Yikes, it looked like Childe’s interest had lit a fire under them.

“I hope they don’t think that everything I do ties back to the Jade Chamber contest,” he muttered, as the bidding war got worse.

The teacup went for eight hundred thousand mora. Eight hundred thousand. For a dumb teacup.

“Word to the wise, it’s probably better for you not to bid on anything else if you don’t want to be in a worse situation with the Tianquan,” said Yanfei.

Childe had already intended to keep to himself from there on—he had a sudden, horrifying vision of his office desk cluttered with unexceptional teacups next—but looked to her with interest. “I figured as much. Ningguang surely wouldn’t be happy with a Fatui coveting her old things,” half the reason he’d attended, he’d wanted to needle her a little for aiming all those civilians at him, “but the way you say it makes it seem like she’s got some scheme going on here.”

“Oh? And what makes you so easily convinced of that?” said Yanfei, but she was grinning like they were sharing some kind of inside joke.

“Ningguang likes her mora, but she’s also the Tianquan, and very heavily invested in the fairness of deals,” said Childe. “Selling all these things for such exorbitant amounts feels like taking advantage of people, and yes, she’s dealing with a bunch of rich snobs right now so you can feel sort of vindicated about that, but it’s also something that could damage her reputation. No number of Jade Chambers can make up for it she builds herself a reputation as a fraud. There must be some other purpose to this that outweighs the risks.”

“You’re absolutely right.” Yanfei looked back and forth for eavesdroppers before leaning in close. Childe leaned in too, intrigued. “I’m sure you know what happened to the original Jade Chamber. Ba-boom! Smithereens.”

“Yeah, I saw it,” said Childe, grateful that she hadn’t pointed out his own role in the process.

“Well, Ningguang lived in the Jade Chamber. That means that when it went down, so did almost everything she owned,” said Yanfei. “The teacups, the hair accessories, the books, the highly sensitive documents… everything. Between the Millelith, Captain Beidou, and a few other volunteers, most of that was gathered up. There’s a lot that stayed missing, though. Most of it you can safely assume sank with Osial, but other scattered pieces have made their way into the hands of certain speculators…”

“Ah,” said Childe, eyeing the crowd as a few specific people continued to bid strangely high amounts. “And I suppose those people would be pretty eager to complete sets of the lost items they’d gotten hold of?”

“They got a taste of Ningguang’s style and they’ve developed quite the ego about it,” said Yanfei. “Ningguang’s tracked down many of them, but even if the items were hers to start with, they’ve changed hands so many times already that determining legal ownership would be an extremely long-winded process and have to go on a case-by-case basis. You can imagine how grueling that would be if you’re fighting for every individual teacup and jewelry piece. I pride myself on my handling of the law, but even I’d have issues defending her claim. As an alternative, Ningguang specifically requested those speculators to attend this auction. The plan is that once they get the item they’ll figure out it doesn’t match what they have, they’ll confront the auctioneer about the counterfeits, at which time Ningguang’s secretaries will catch them in the act. If the client returns the lost property, Ningguang will refund everything they spent at the auction today.”

“Well, that’s one way to go about it,” said Childe. “I suppose my bid put a wrench into that?”

“Your influence could steer them into thinking the fakes themselves have value. Then they’d run off without being caught again, and Ningguang would be right back at square one,” said Yanfei.

Childe hummed and leaned back in his chair, settling in for the long haul. “Well, we can’t have that, can we?”

It was true that he’d spent the last few days cursing Ningguang’s existence, but right now he felt a sort of… comradery. The loss of the Jade Chamber had been a very public destruction of her pride and stability. Everyone in Liyue had witnessed it, which must have made that personal loss all the more humiliating. And to have her own countrymen acting like sharks, even now trying to prey on her… Well. He, too, had suffered a public humiliation and was still dealing with the fallout. Maybe they’d been on opposing sides, but even if his humiliation couldn’t be mitigated, he hoped hers would. He hoped she caught every single one of her tormentors and made them regret they were ever born. He could live vicariously through her revenge.

The auction went on. The collection of mundane items was sold off to aggressive bidders, and Baiwen thanked everyone for coming before starting to wrap up the logistics side. The crowd slowly disbursed.

“That Lady Ningguang really must be something!” a businessman from Fontaine was saying to his companion as they passed the tea table. “Eight hundred thousand for a teacup she drank out of…”

“How long should we expect it to take for the buyers to realize something’s wrong?” Childe asked quietly.

“I’d give the highest bidder about twenty minutes,” said Yanfei.

In that case, he was going to stick around a little longer to see the fallout. He accepted a refill of his tea.

“So, young man, how are you holding up these days?” asked Madame Ping, setting aside her teapot. “As Yanfei said, you seem rather popular.”

“I’m discovering a whole new side to Liyue that I’d never known about,” Childe said breezily. “I don’t suppose either of you are invested in the Jade Chamber situation?”

“Only as far as the legalities of it go. I’ve got no interest in participating,” said Yanfei.

“It will be interesting to watch it built, but an old lady like me won’t have any input otherwise,” said Madame Ping.

“Great! Then I don’t need to worry about you potentially kidnapping me,” said Childe. “The rest of Liyue? I wouldn’t put it past them. They’re all under the mistaken belief that I have access to the materials.”

“Mistaken?” said Yanfei.

“Mistaken,” Child insisted. “I don’t know where they got the idea that I was a resource for anything.” The two Adepti looked amused, but that was better than them being vengeful, so he ignored that. “I don’t suppose competitors are asking either of you for information?”

“I’m afraid that unless the young ones are seeking me out for polearm training they quite forget my existence, and to anyone else I’m only the tea and flower lady. That isn’t much to go on in such a competition,” said Madame Ping.

“No one’s asked me anything because they know I’d charge them,” said Yanfei.

“They seemed perfectly happy spending money for my time,” Childe grumbled.

“If anyone comes to me with Adepti business I charge a premium,” said Yanfei, whose services were already outrageously expensive. “Besides, I’m not part of that social circle, you know? I live here in Liyue Harbor, not Jueyun Karst. I haven’t got a clue how to write an Adepti Sigil, and I never signed a contract with Rex Lapis so I’ve got as much chance of convincing the Adepti to help as you’d have winning the loyalty of, say, Inazuma’s Kujou Sara for the sheer fact of being a human.”

Yanfei seemed to get along just fine with the Rex Lapis-contracted Madame Ping, but it was probably wise not to go poking around at that. If Madame Ping wanted to write Adepti Sigils she’d figure out a way to get them into the competitors’ hands, and if she didn’t, she’d just sit back and enjoy the chaos.

Was this some kind of test? Humans shall govern themselves and use their own building materials, thank you very much?

“What else have you been up to, if you’re not being hounded by competitors?” said Childe.

“Mostly tracking down tax evasion and predatory contracts,” said Yanfei. “There was this girl who got swindled into working for a gossip rag pretending they were the Steambird—” She started rambling about how the opera singer Yun Jin had discovered and reported the situation, the threats, the fallout, the way Yanfei had only had to walk into the room to make the sleazy, exploitative manager lose his mind and start kowtowing. “It was great,” she said dreamily. “I love the cases where I can take on real injustice. I even gave the girl a discount for my services, since putting that scum away was so fun.”

“Didn’t you say that the girl was able to work with the true Steambird afterward?” said Madame Ping.

“She did! Yun Jin gave her an independent interview, and when she submitted it to the Steambird they liked her work so much they’ve hired her permanently,” said Yanfei. “I think she’s doing a cultural arts special?”

“A happy ending, then,” said Childe. “I might actually have to start reading the Steambird…”

“You don’t read it already?” said Yanfei.

“Nah,” said Childe with a grimace. “I used to, but then one of the columns—All Things Astrological, I think?—well, it was all wordy and pretentious with the new writer anyway, but in one issue she published some of her latest predictions that left an impression on her. My constellation was included.”

“Ooh,” said Yanfei, fighting a grin. “Was it a bad one?”

“It was horrible,” said Childe.

The prediction had read simply: Monoceros Caeli—IT’S RECIPROCATED, FOOL!! This had made life at the Zapolyarny Palace a nightmare, since people were either laughing at his apparent romantic woes or nervously trying to support him in said romantic woes. He hadn’t had any romantic woes to start with!

(He’d thought maybe it was confirmation that his family missed him the way he missed them, but. Well. That prediction was wrong.)

“It was dumb and inaccurate,” said Childe.

“Are you saying that because it embarrassingly came true?” said Yanfei.

“I’m saying I followed the advice of the prediction and it was wrong,” said Childe, shrugging as if that ordeal hadn’t meant anything.

“What is your constellation, by the way?” said Yanfei.

“Oh, no. You’re not getting that out of me,” said Childe.

“I really should read more,” said Madame Ping, taking a leisurely sip of her tea. “I have all the time in the world to do it! Perhaps I’ll recommend that Steambird article to an old friend of mine. He’s invited me to attend Yun Jin’s new opera premiere with him. Are you planning to attend, Master Diplomat?”

Old friend? An old friend that was not Yanfei? Ha, no.

“That wasn’t on my schedule, no,” Childe lied. “You’ll have to tell me how it is.”

“It promises to be quite spectacular,” said Madame Ping. “As I understand, the opera is called ‘The Divine Damsel of Devastation,’ and depicts the trials of a girl among the Adepti. I’m quite anxious to see Yun Jin’s rendition of the character.”

As an Adepti, Madame Ping would be more intrigued by that than a regular person, wouldn’t she?

“If it’s anything like her performance in Snow Treading, I’m sure it’ll be a masterpiece,” said Childe.

Snow Treading had been his first exposure to Liyue’s opera scene. He hadn’t been used to the high-pitched singing, the costumes, or the dance movements, but the opera’s story followed the tale of a woman lost in heavy snow, and Yun Jin had nailed that tired helplessness. Maybe it was her grasp of the character, maybe it was the fact that snow really had been falling that day, maybe it was because he was homesick for Snezhnaya, but Childe had been riveted. When the opera ended Zhongli had asked, How did you like it? I am aware that Liyue’s opera is distinct and therefore foreigners tend to find it jarring at first, but— and Childe, still in a daze, had rested a hand on his elbow to pause the rambling and whispered, It was beautiful.

Madame Ping’s warm smile was a mere ghost of what Zhongli’s had been, that day.

“So you enjoy the opera?” she said.

“Yun Jin has won me over,” Childe laughed.

“You and countless others,” said Yanfei.

They kept talking about local performances—all three of them had seen Yun Jin’s rendition of String of Pearls—and Childe silently marveled over how well this was going. If anyone had told him a week ago that he’d be served tea by a pair of Adepti, he’d have assumed it would be poison. Surely, having been on opposing sides in a fight over the destruction of Liyue Harbor, they should hold a grudge? But no, they were perfectly happy making small talk. Did they not think of him as a threat? He’d raised an evil god! Or maybe Zhongli had talked to them? If he was going out to operas with Madame Ping, surely that meant he was in regular contact with the Adepti. Maybe he’d gone to Jueyun Karst for a gossip session and told them all that Childe was some hapless pawn in his plans, and the Adepti had accepted Childe as just another part of a contract. That idea rankled.

“Uh-oh, here it comes,” said Yanfei, eyes following the return of one of the bidders.

Childe turned in his seat to get a better look. It was the older man who’d won the teacup; he sidled up to Baiwen in the nervous way of a person who knew they’d done something wrong, and started to inquire about the items. The tea table was too far away to make out what exactly they were saying, but Baiwen’s politeness collapsed into irritation and the bidder backpedaled fast. Oh, that had to be such an uncomfortable conversation to be part of. Childe grinned as he watched the back-and-forth.

“Master Diplomat?”

Oh, no.

One of the other bidders had come up to the table. She had not won the teacup, of course, but she had a near identical one in hand and a maniacal glint in her eye.

“Master Diplomat,” she said again, “I couldn’t help but notice you paid certain attention to some of the items at auction—”

No. Just no.

Childe knocked back the last of his tea, set his cup down on the table with a clack, and aimed his best smile at Madame Ping and Yanfei.

“Well, I think I’ve overstayed my welcome, so I’ll be taking my leave! Have a lovely day.”

Then he made his escape.

“Wait! Master Diplomat!” cried the bidder, giving chase.

She was not the only one. As Childe speedwalked toward the exit, he spotted several other members of the auction crowd hastening up the steps to Yujing Terrace with other, similar teacups. He’d started a trend, he hated this. What did the poor merchants of Liyue think, being bought out of all their teacups? Sweet Tsaritsa, there were people coming from every direction. The Millelith would probably skin him if he tried to climb Yuehai Pavilion, there were no openings in the thickening crowd— Oh, hell with it. He summoned Hydro under his feet. To everyone in Yujing Terrace, it seemed as if Childe dissolved entirely into water. The roiling orb of Hydro spun upward into the sky and out toward Mt. Tianheng. It wasn’t a particularly dignified retreat but Childe found himself caring less and less about that.

In liquid form he circled the mountain and came stealthily right back into Liyue Harbor. With his stalkers long gone in pursuit, he solidified again on the walkway near Bubu Pharmacy; the excess water cascaded off of him and into the fishpond. He’d appeared alongside a Snezhnayan merchant, Ivanovich, who continued to feed the fish but gave a rueful shake of the head.

“Long day, Master Diplomat?”

“You have no idea,” said Childe.

It wasn’t even noon yet.

Most people coming through the pond area tended to overlook this covered wooden walkway, so Childe leaned against the railing and settled in. He’d enjoy the peace and quiet while he had it. He watched the pond and the stone bridge through its middle, enjoying the way the fish swam lazily through the lotuses. A few people hurried over the bridge, some whispering about Childe’s whereabouts while other regular citizens minded their own business. A pack of beleaguered exorcists regrouped in the middle, looking as if they hadn’t slept in several days. Another exorcist trudged toward them from Bubu Pharmacy; the others perked up at the sight of her, but she shook her head and they all slumped. One of them was so distraught by whatever denial this was that he just laid himself down on the paving stones like a corpse. One of the shorter ones cast around, misery evident on his face… and his eyes fixed on Childe. He quickly started doubling back along the bridge.

“Are the exorcists interested in the Jade Chamber?” asked Childe, brows raised as he tracked the exorcist’s progress.

“Sorry, sir, but I wouldn’t know,” said Ivanovich.

The time it took for the exorcist to cut into the wooden walkway and make his way toward them gave Childe plenty opportunity to recognize him and rifle through the trivia in his head: Chongyun, a teenager frequently seen in Xingqiu or Xiangling’s company; he’d never actually exorcised anything because his massive yang energy sent demons and ghosts into such a terror that they fled as soon as they sensed him coming; that same yang energy caused him to overheat and enter a kind of manic almost-drunk state, so he frequently crunched on popsicles or otherwise froze himself with his own Cryo abilities in a desperate attempt to avoid embarrassment; an awkward, straightforward person easily duped by his friends; major weakness was Jueyun Chilis.

“Chongyun!” one of the other exorcists called, trying to wave him back. “Don’t go over there! We’re going to look— Chongyun!”

“Excuse me,” said Chongyun, meeting Childe’s eyes unflinchingly. “You Fatui have an intelligence network here, don’t you?”

Childe laughed. “How direct! I don’t know that I’d call it a network, but I do like being informed.”

“Do you know the whereabouts of a woman named Shenhe?” said Chongyun, ignoring the increasingly frantic whispering of his family members on the other side of the pond. “She’s a part of our clan. We believed she was dead until recently, when we heard rumors of her in Jueyun Karst with the Adepti, and then had reports of her being seen in the harbor. We wanted to welcome her back, but we can’t find her now.”

Childe studied him a moment and realized, yeah, this was a familiar face.

“Let me guess,” he said. “Tall, long white hair braided with red rope, iridescent eyes, Cryo vision, fashion reminiscent of a crane?”

“Yes!” said Chongyun, brightening up. “Yes, that’s her! Have you seen her?”

“I sure have! She’s helping Lumine find materials for the Jade Chamber.”

At that, Chongyun’s shoulders slumped again. Lumine had earned her title of “Traveler” very well; no one could ever guess where she was going to appear next. Still…

“I suppose it’s lucky that you know her final destination, now,” said Childe.

“I do?” said Chongyun. “I don’t—Oh. Oh!” he whirled around to look at Mt. Tianheng and the construction site. “The contestants are being hosted in hotels! Of course!” He bowed hastily, said, “Thank you, Lord Harbinger!” and dashed away to consult with the clan.

For a moment Childe stared after him, but then he started laughing. Lord Harbinger. Everyone in Liyue knew that by now, but few of them had the guts to say it to his face so casually. The exorcists ran off for the other end of Liyue Harbor. Good luck to them.

The Fatui information network was good, though. Just after noon, Nadia appeared in the walkway with a boxed lunch.

“We figured that you wouldn’t risk approaching a food stall right now,” she said, handing over the food.

“You’re a goddess,” said Childe, popping open the box. Mmm, Squirrel Fish… “Don’t tell Ekaterina I said that.”

Nadia rolled her eyes. “We all know the Tsaritsa and Ekaterina are the only goddesses in your eyes. There’s no competition.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” said Childe. “How’s the bank, today?”

“Your secret admirer has returned,” said Nadia.

It took a moment for Childe to connect the dots. Ah, yes. All the rocks on his desk. He’d cleared it off before leaving yesterday, but in retrospect that simply prepared the stage for another elaborate gift. “Are we talking more cor lapis, or—”

“We don’t really know what it is,” said Nadia. “It’s still a kind of rock. It looks like noctilucous jade, but it’s green instead of blue. Like looking at Anemo instead of Hydro.”

“Does it glow?” asked Ivanovich, looking up from the fish.

He was a merchant primarily dealing with ore, so Childe and Nadia didn’t hesitate to adopt him into the conversation.

“It does,” said Nadia.

“Does it have an aura like Anemo, too? If someone with Elemental Sight looks at it, does it seem to have a kind of mist?” said Ivanovich.

“That’s right,” said Nadia.

Ivanovich nodded definitively and said, “That’s subrosium.”

“I’ve never heard of it,” said Childe. “Seeing how long I spent around Zhongli, that’s impressive.”

“It’s very rare,” said Ivanovich. “Many merchants don’t know it exists, even when they’re in the ore business. I’d found a record shortly after coming here mentioning subrosium, which said it can be found where dawn meets dusk. After that I kept an eye out specifically for it, so I did get the chance to see a small piece in person during a sale. It’s a shame it’s so rare, since it’s so beautiful and distinct. If I had the supply I’d love to have jewelry made from it.”

“Huh,” said Childe, mystified. “How big was the piece you saw?”

“Just a chip,” said Ivanovich. “Barely the size of a fingernail.”

“Is it really so rare?” said Nadia. She seemed uncomfortable.

“Almost as rare as Sunset Vermillionite,” said Ivanovich.

“How big are the pieces in my office?” asked Childe.

Nadia grimaced. “Ah… well, there are multiple pieces of it. Most are about the size of your head.”

“They’re what?” said Ivanovich, straightening hastily. “But—What—Where did they come from?”

“That’s what I’d like to know,” Childe sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“My lord, would you possibly be willing to sell those pieces?” said Ivanovich.

“Not until I know for sure their source and who supplied them, or we could all be in hot water with the Millelith,” said Childe. “I don’t suppose I could hire you to go down to the bank and appraise the items for me? For a fee, of course.”

“Of course!” cried Ivanovich, as if he’d been given the honor of assisting the Tsaritsa herself. “Right away, my lord! I’ll go right now!”

He ran off without waiting for any other information. This subrosium stuff must really be a big deal.

Childe shook his head in amazement. “Has there been anything other than mysterious gifts of rocks?”

“There was.” Nadia downright wilted in her misery. “Master Childe, it was terrible. All those people and their teacups…”

“What did they do?” Childe asked, in the tone of a man facing certain doom.

“They were all trying to give them to you. Ekaterina said you weren’t there and you weren’t accepting gifts anyway, but they wouldn’t give up,” said Nadia. “They’ve stacked all these cups on the railings and the stairs like strange offerings… What do they think this will achieve?”

“I don’t know, Nadia. Honestly, I really don’t know,” said Childe.

Shenhe made her reappearance in the evening.

It was impossible to miss her, because she was carrying what had to be the biggest intact piece of plaustrite in all of history. It was twice as big as the Archons-damned bank. And yes, plaustrite was famous for its antigravity even before proper activation, but Shenhe was also carrying this monstrosity one-handed. One-handed! That was just bragging. Childe desperately wanted to fight her and see how that strength translated through a polearm. 

Ningguang’s people had seen her coming from afar and immediately dispatched a guard for her, driving off the gathering crowd. Chongyun’s family was kept at a distance along with the rest of the excited residents and foreign gawkers.

“She has to be an Adeptus! Can you believe she carried that in on her own?” said one of the workers.

“Oh mighty Adeptus, grant me your blessing!" another groveled.

“Shenhe! Miss Shenhe, please, if I could have a moment of your time!” cried an exorcist near the front, waving desperately.

“Getting Adepti help has to be cheating!” said a merchant.

“You only say that because you didn’t get an Adeptus’ blessing yourself.”

“Why, you—”

Childe said nothing; he wasn’t going to give himself away if no one else had noticed him yet.

As the crowd continued to go wild the Sunset Vermillionite was put into place, set to hover as the grand foundation in the middle of a ring of scaffolding. Shenhe spared no glance for anyone; she kept her cool gaze on Baiwen, who had apparently doubled up on auction and building duties.  

“It’s top tier in both size and quality!” said Baiwen, much happier than she’d been at Yujing Terrace. “Its condition is downright immaculate! This item is absolutely approved for submission, and you get full marks. Could I have your name, please?”

“It’s not for me. I only delivered it,” said Shenhe.

As if on cue, Lumine and Paimon hurried up the wooden ramp behind her.

“You’re fast!” Lumine wheezed, pressing a hand against the stitch in her side. “How are you so fast when you were carrying that kind of cargo?”

“I had a head start on you,” said Shenhe, like it was obvious.

“That doesn’t explain anything!” cried Paimon. “Were you at least careful when you were carrying it?”

“Of course. As you can see, the plaustrite arrived without a scratch,” said Shenhe.

“We were worried about you, Shenhe, not the rock,” said Lumine.

Shenhe blinked at her. She looked down at herself as if genuinely unsure whether she’d missed something, then said, “I am also intact.”

Baiwen glanced between them with a smile. “We should have expected greatness from the Traveler.”

They started talking about logistics and points for the contest, and the crowd rapidly lost interest. While some stayed to listen in on the details or to wait for their chance to ambush the competitors, most of them moved away along the construction grounds. A huge number of visitors had traveled in to spectate, and all the buildings around the Golden House’s vicinity had either been rented out by Ningguang for use by competitors, or rented out by the owners themselves to take advantage of the sudden popularity. Temporary hotels had sprung up along the mountain slopes, interspersed with tea sellers and other small businesses looking to make a mora. It was a festive kind of atmosphere after nightfall, made all the more exciting by the Sunset Vermillionite’s faint green glow reflecting off the cliffsides.

Childe spent the next few hours being seen, ensuring that the owners of the stalls he visited would be able to spread rumors that he had been here instead of the bank, and that there was no point leaving teacups or weirdly rare rocks around his workplace. He didn’t linger, of course. He talked just long enough to make an impression, paid, and vanished. Hopefully, with the Sunset Vermillionite accounted for, some competitors would be discouraged and give up, and he'd be left alone. He was on one of the higher cliffs, scouting for a good place to eat his snacks uninterrupted, when he spotted something interesting. On the grassy outcropping below him stood Lumine and Paimon, speaking with… oh, he had to know the name. It was a massive blue crane Adeptus, and yes, there were two crane Adepti that he knew of, but…

“So you know Shenhe too, Cloud Retainer?” said Paimon.

Childe snapped his fingers in an epiphany. Cloud Retainer! Yeah, that was right. A highly intelligent inventor, but foul tempered. Cloud Retainer was on better terms with Lumine than most, though, because she replied, “Naturally. Save for Ganyu, all the Adepti living today are familiar with Shenhe to some degree.”

“Oh, wow!” said Paimon. “Say, could you tell us her Adeptus name? Because we were thinking it was rude to be calling her ‘Shenhe’ so familiarly and all—”

Cloud Retainer cocked her head to the side. “Why, pray tell, would Shenhe have an Adeptus name?”

“Uh… I thought all Adepti did,” said Paimon. “Don’t you all have special titles?”

“This is true, but Shenhe does not have such a title. She is human,” said Cloud Retainer.

“Wait, what?” cried Paimon, at the same time Lumine said, “I thought so.”

Ooh, this was getting juicy. Childe settled himself down more comfortably, setting aside his food and resting his chin on his folded arms to watch. He was more than happy to listen to drama that he had no stake in, and if none of them had taken the time to check for eavesdroppers they really had no right to be offended.

“Do you mean to say she presents herself differently from other human beings?” said Cloud Retainer, genuinely confused.

“Well,” Paimon mumbled, glancing at Lumine for help.

Lumine grimaced. “Her problem-solving methods are… direct.”

Cloud Retainer nodded sagely. “Ah, yes. She was like this all those years ago when one met her. She has not changed in that respect. You see, one found Shenhe by chance in a cave. While passing by, one sensed the presence of a god’s remains and, being of an ever-vigilant disposition, one entered immediately to inspect the scene. Inside was Shenhe, then aged six years old. In her hand she held a dagger, with which she was confronting a monster that was the god’s remains incarnate.”

“Seriously?” said Lumine, completely taken in by the story. “At six years old?”

“How dangerous!” said Paimon.

“When one arrived, she had already been locked in confrontation with this monster for several days. Most mortal children are fragile, both physically and mentally, and are highly reliant on their parents for survival. But not her. That she was able to endure such terrible danger was not only due to her strong willpower, but also to the bloodlust and homicidal instinct to which she was born.”

Childe’s grin faltered. It seemed, for a moment, as if these words could have been spoken about another child, many years ago.

Cloud Retainer tossed her head in a way that seemed almost proud. “One dealt with the monster, yet she still refused to lower her guard. She even pointed her dagger in one’s direction and remained ready to strike. Only after she was satisfied that one had no intention to cause her harm did she finally relent. She then passed out without a single word.”

Childe really, really didn’t like that.

Paimon looked ill. “Then… if you hadn’t passed by that day, Shenhe would have—”

“Not necessarily,” said Cloud Retainer. “Upon one’s arrival, one could sense that the god’s wrath was gradually receding. Even had the stalemate continued, one suspects that Shenhe would have emerged the victor of the confrontation.”

“Why was a little girl battling the wrath of a god in the first place?” asked Lumine.

“Alas, the mortal world is rife with suffering, and she experienced her fair share of this at an early age,” said Cloud Retainer. “Seeing that she was homeless, one decided to adopt her.”

“Oh! Then you’re the master she was talking about?” said Paimon.

“Indeed.” Cloud Retainer’s voice was definitely proud, now. “Shenhe has an extraordinary constitution, making her well adapted to practicing the Adepti arts. All the Adepti cherished her talents, and so we were willing to train her. However, her homicidal urges did not subside with age. Rather, they grew stronger day by day. Moon Carver once performed a divination for her. He declared that her fate is to bear the curse of calamity. Consumed by malevolent energy, she is prone to bring harm to those around her. Such is the magnitude of the danger this poses that her soul must be bound with red ropes to keep her homicidal instinct at bay.”

Childe fisted his hands, smile long gone from his face, but otherwise he carefully did not react.

“The red ropes have indeed served to keep her calmer and more content, but also seem to have rendered her somewhat… inexpressive. Perhaps the red ropes are so powerful that they have suppressed some of her other emotions as well.” Cloud Retainer cast her eyes down on the hotels and bustle below, voice dipping into something more contemplative. “It is only by fate that people’s paths may cross. Now that Shenhe’s path has crossed with yours, please be sure to treasure the gift that fate has given you, and take care of her.”

For a moment there was reverent silence, and then a grin split Paimon’s face. “Ooh, Paimon gets it! You were here because you were worried about her!”

“Pah! You dare draw such a facile conclusion on the nature of one’s present excursion? Incorrect. The truth is that while Liyue Harbor seems peaceful today, there is always danger lurking in the shadows.”

“And you were worried about Shenhe,” said Lumine, with a matchin grin.

Cloud Retainer ignored her. “Ningguang once made a bold assertion that this is to be the era of the contract between Liyue and the humans. One is curious to see how she will respond to the coming storm. If she handles it admirably, one is willing to be a witness to her achievements. But if she does not, the Adepti shall not hesitate to seize control.”

“Wait, storm? What storm?” said Lumine. “Is something happening? Does it have anything to do with why Ningguang has been buying so many medical supplies?”

Oh? Maybe Childe would get something worthwhile out of this excursion, yet!

Unfortunately Cloud Retainer ignored her even harder, tracking right back to the previous topic. “There seem to be a great many tales told regarding Shenhe in recent years.  Perhaps she was seen on the previous occasion when she secretly ventured out of the mountains. One has heard that a playwright in Liyue Harbor wrote an opera based on the legends told about her. It is called The Divine Damsel of Devastation. But when she returned to the mountains that time, one noticed her air of dejection. You must take care of Shenhe. She is a dear child. In fact, one has many fond memories of Shenhe’s childhood that you may be interested to hear about—”

“No need for that!” Lumine said quickly. Judging by her sudden pallor, she’d been subjected to this kind of talk from Adepti before. “Really, I’m not sure Shenhe would appreciate—”

“Oh! They are all like this,” said Cloud Retainer, suddenly irritated. “Fine! Since you care not to listen, one will not be telling you! One will be leaving now!”

And whoosh, there she went, flapping away.

“Damn,” Lumine muttered, watching her go. “I wanted to figure out what that storm nonsense was about…”

“Do you think we made her angry?” said Paimon, scratching her chin as she squinted at the sky. “Paimon doesn’t know if it’s good to have an Adeptus angry at us…”

“She talked to us just fine now, and we cut her off like that when she started talking about Ganyu last time,” said Lumine.

“Right, right. Wow, she’s really chatty about her kids, isn’t she?”

“Ugh, yeah. Let’s get going. Shenhe’s going to notice us missing, soon, and the last thing I want her to know about is her master trying to share her embarrassing baby stories with us…”

Lumine and Paimon started to descend the cliffs, back down toward their hotel. Alone, Childe rolled onto his back and looked up at the stars.

He knew a story like Shenhe’s: a child fallen into danger, forced into a grueling fight for survival only to be plucked away from their family to be raised by those in power, and later considered inhuman. Cursed. Dangerous. Homicidal. Devastating. But the child he knew was only feared. There was no guardian to speak of that child with pride or worry about his wellbeing. There was no family running all over town for days on end trying to reconnect. That child had always, always, been alone.

He didn’t get much more time to linger on that, because he was too busy rolling out of the way of an angry Adeptus.

“Fie!” cried Cloud Retainer, beak digging into the dirt where his left eye had been. Her head snaked back up and she followed him, wings spread for intimidation. “Are you eavesdropping on one’s conversations, Snezhnayan? You may not have been banished from Liyue, but one does not forgive treachery such as yours so easily!”

“Hey, now,” Childe laughed, rolling up into a crouch. “It’s not my fault you chose such a public venue for your little talk with the Traveler!”

Cloud Retainer hissed. “What foul scheme are you up to now, Fatui? If you think you can get away with anything while one is here—”

“I’m just a poor tourist looking for a place to eat in peace! If these festivities are such a crime, you’re going to be very busy with your Adeptal punishment,” said Childe, gesturing at the crowds below them.  

Cloud Retainer paused. She took in his partially spilled food, the milling crowds, and realized that she’d jumped to conclusions. Her wings folded in and ruffled with embarrassment.

“Pah,” she said. “If the Fatui make any moves, one will not stand idly by!”

Then she turned to look dramatically out over the cliffs, as if her apparent dignity might salvage the situation and intimidate him into leaving it alone. Childe was very hard to intimidate. He gathered up his food and went to sit beside her with his legs dangling over the edge of the cliff. Just to annoy her. It served her right for assuming the worst. Cloud Retainer bristled but said nothing. Childe took a very loud and irritating bite of his food. Cloud Retainer bristled even more. This was almost as entertaining as bothering La Signora had been.

It didn’t take a genius to know that Cloud Retainer hated Childe’s guts. From what he knew she was a prickly personality to start with, and combined with the fact that she’d been manning the ballistae during the Osial incident she was clearly not on his side. The only reason he hadn’t been pecked to death or tossed off the cliff was probably because Zhongli had talked to her as he had with Madame Ping and Yanfei, making it clear that Childe’s previous actions were part of his own plan. Just as before, that idea left a sour taste in Childe’s mouth. He didn’t need Zhongli intervening for him, especially when it was Zhongli’s fault that everything turned out this way. The least he could’ve done was approach Childe directly. But no. He was off galivanting around with the Adepti. Was Zhongli still in Jueyun Karst? No one knew where exactly he’d run off to. Maybe he was sitting at that stone table on Mt. Aocang, reveling in the fact that nothing was his responsibility anymore. Maybe when Cloud Retainer left, she’d go to that same place. Maybe they’d gossip about the lowly Fatui she’d run into. The sour taste in Childe’s mouth grew worse.

He wished he knew where Zhongli was. He didn’t know what he’d do with that information. While stumbling out of that domain in Inazuma, Lumine had asked him about Zhongli and Childe had given some dumb bravado about our differences can only be settled by fierce combat! The more likely option was that he’d abuse whatever information he had to stay as far from Zhongli as possible. He was accepting the fact that he was an easily manipulated failure, but that didn’t mean he wanted to look at the proof of it. He wasn’t a masochist.

The image wouldn’t leave his mind, though: Zhongli at that stone table, the seats carved with here sits Rex, here sits Guizhong, here sits Retainer, yet only Rex Lapis’ seat filled. One person. One teacup. Silence.

Intelligence gathering, intelligence gathering, Childe mentally chanted, and forced a smile.

“You know,” he said, “the weather gets pretty cold in Snezhnaya.”

Cloud Retainer made a snooty noise with her beak. “Why should one care for Snezhnayan weather?”

“There was one year where it got really cold,” Childe continued as if he hadn’t heard her. “We were all worried about my little brother, Teucer, and we got a little… overprotective. We wrapped him up in so much clothing, he could barely waddle anywhere. He was warm, though! It took us almost half an hour to get him dressed each time we went out, and the whole time he would pout…” It was hard to tell on a bird’s face, but Cloud Retainer may have been intrigued. She didn’t interrupt him this time, at least, as he went on, “One day he was following Tonia to find a good stick for a snowman, and he slipped at the top of a hill. And the clothes? They made him so round, he rolled!” Childe mimed the slope with his hands. “All the way down to the bottom! Tonia ran down after him, but all the padding meant he wasn’t hurt at all. He thought it was fun. After that he wouldn’t stop rolling himself down even the slightest incline.”

He chuckled to himself at the memory. Teucer had grown out of that particular habit, but after his stowaway visit to Liyue, it was clear his sense of self-preservation hadn’t improved.

Cloud Retainer angled her head back and forth as if debating with herself. Judging by her little chat with the Traveler, she may have been a fearsome Adeptus, but more than that she was a mom. A mom desperate to talk about her children. Finally she said, very carefully, “One once took care of the half-Adeptus Ganyu. As a child she too was round, though it was not from clothes. She would also stumble when ascending the mountain, and roll to the bottom like a little ball.”

Childe let out a bark of laughter. “Did she really?”

Cloud Retainer raised her head higher in pride and her voice was emboldened: “Truly! She was in fact so round that on another occasion a monster choked to death attempting to eat her. She was the most precious creature one had ever set eyes on.”

Thus, the floodgates were opened. Childe was treated to a series of stories including but not limited to: Ganyu refusing to sleep unless her horns were petted (cute), how Ganyu was so terrified by her first sight of a human that she hid in a rock for two days wailing about monsters (rude), and how the Adeptus on multiple occasions had to talk a tiny Shenhe down from “silencing” all the nearby birds for the sin of waking her up in the morning (relatable). Judging by how eager Cloud Retainer was to talk, her little adopted daughters likely cut her off at any other opportunity, and all her Adepti friends already knew the stories many times over. Childe was a Fatui, but more importantly he was a fresh and rapt audience. Childe encouraged this with a few stories from his own home (mostly what had been relayed to him in letters, since he hadn’t been back in so long) and offered up the snacks he’d bought earlier. As the night deepened and the crowds thinned out, Cloud Retainer seemed downright pleased.

Childe had managed civil conversations with three Adepti today. What were the odds? He hoped digging for information wasn’t about to ruin it.

After Cloud Retainer had finished(?) fretting over the fact that Ganyu never visited (“Not even a break! Not once has she met Shenhe, only heard of her from one’s tales, and she does not even have a mate as an excuse. Not even a courtship!”), Childe attempted a smooth transition by saying, “Maybe she’s like Rex Lapis. Does he visit often, these days?”

Cloud Retainer gave him a look that said this was not smooth at all. “You ask about Rex Lapis?”

“Rex Lapis, Zhongli, whatever he calls himself right now,” said Childe, shrugging. “He made a trend of it, right? Hanging out with humans.”

“Quite unfortunately,” said Cloud Retainer.

“Maybe Ganyu operates in a similar way,” said Childe. “Maybe whatever brought Rex Lapis back to visit will work with her, too.”

“One certainly hopes not,” said Cloud Retainer. “For centuries, all that brought Rex Lapis back to Jueyun Karst was grief. One would never wish such bitter nostalgia upon Ganyu or Shenhe.”

“That’s changed, though?” Childe ventured.

“It has,” Cloud Retainer said quietly. “This is no forgiveness, human, but… following the second sealing of Osial, Rex Lapis appears to have a great weight lifted from his mind. One has not seen him at such peace in a very long time.”

Childe closed his eyes and let out a slow breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. At least Zhongli had gotten what he wanted out of that stupid contract. Childe hadn’t managed to mess up that part.

“Did you figure out why he came back to Jueyun Karst?” he asked.

“One suspects it is a regrouping before we move into the future,” said Cloud Retainer. “This will do us no good with Ganyu, though. She has always been invested and assisting in the future humanity strove for. She has never had trouble adapting like the rest of us. Hm… One wonders if one should entrust Shenhe to Ganyu, in that case…”

“You think it’s that impersonal?” said Childe.

“Impersonal?” Cloud Retainer spluttered. “In what way should our gathering be impersonal? If Rex Lapis has graced us with his presence, we should be glad! He does not need to spend time with us or extend the effort to inform us of his movements. To see our old friend again is an honor!”

“Okay,” said Childe. He stretched and flopped backward into the grass. “Then why didn’t you put it that way in the first place?”

Cloud Retainer leaned to give him her most unimpressed bird-face. It was no different from her usual bird-face. “One believes you are attempting to make a point.”

“Is it strange that he happily came to visit you after he lost his title?” asked Childe.

“If you are implying that he needed our assistance, that is folly,” said Cloud Retainer. “He is no longer Archon, but he is our Prime Adeptus, more powerful than any—”

“No. Back up. You’re missing the point,” said Childe.

Cloud Retainer’s feathers ruffled indignantly. “In what way am I, the Free Adeptus, strategist, supreme inventor—” She kept rattling off her titles and Childe rolled his eyes, “—missing your point?”

“Describe Zhongli without any references to his fighting ability,” said Childe.

Cloud Retainer was quiet for a moment.

“He is kind,” she said, “and he is patient.”

Childe nodded slowly, eyes closed again. “What does he like to do?”

“He likes to jabber on about the glaze lilies while denying at every step that he can sing for them,” Cloud Retainer scoffed.

Childe gave a snort of his own. He’d been subject to more reflections on glaze lilies than he could count, and even though Zhongli was so excited about the fact that they would bloom for music, he’d indeed denied any talent for it. (At one point Childe had gone to Yujing Terrace alone, found a glaze lily in an unseen corner and tried singing to it himself—what if he could really wow Zhongli on their next walk?—but he’d been so self-conscious and paranoid about passersby that he never managed it. The lily had sort of wiggled, though. Surely that meant he wasn’t horrible.)

“He likes opera, too,” said Childe. “And expensive food. And stupidly convoluted art. He likes to pick out the hard work put into something, whether it’s the forming of some geode or the precise steps in firing a vase for the right color. The care, I suppose.”

“The kindness,” Cloud Retainer said slowly. “And the patience.”

“Something like that,” said Childe. “I think he liked going incognito among humans because he never really felt as if he were a ruler. He was a protector, of course. A guide, he’d accept that. The Archon Wars and the time after that meant he had to take authority on a lot of things, and I think when people worship him he’s glad that his work is appreciated… but I don’t think he’s ever liked feeling othered, even if it was well-meaning. It eliminates that care. He’s insisting that you call him Zhongli, isn’t he?”

“He is,” said Cloud Retainer.

“Then treat him that way. As Zhongli, not as Prime Adeptus,” said Childe. “He’ll probably come back a lot more often.”

Cloud Retainer nodded thoughtfully. “Until tonight, one did not believe you cared about his feelings.”

“You think I can just not care?” said Childe, shooting her a disbelieving look. Zhongli wasn’t an Archon but he was a powerful man with powerful friends. Only an idiot would fail to consider his influence. Cloud Retainer gave an approving hum, so yes, she’d clearly considered him an idiot. Childe scowled and tried to change the subject. “I’d take a closer look at Ganyu’s situation and see if there’s some underlying issue there, too. You know her a lot better than I do, but still. If she’s not coming back, there must be a reason.”

“So there must be,” said Cloud Retainer. “This has been an intriguing conversation, human. One has much to think on.” She spread her wings for flight this time. “One anticipates that Zhongli will return to Liyue Harbor within the next few days. If your paths may cross, cherish that, and cherish him.”

“I thought that was your well-wishing for your little foundlings,” said Childe.

“It is the wish for all that one holds dear,” said Cloud Retainer. “Farewell.”

She flew away for good this time. Childe watched her soar over the glow of the Sunset Vermillionite and off into the clouds. Childe remained on the cliff for a while, alone and quiet. Then in a fit of rage he snatched up some of the food. A Crystal Shrimp Ball crushed in his fist before he pitched it out into the night. He braced his elbows on his knees, bent his head, and snarled in frustration.

It doesn’t matter, he told himself.

So what if Zhongli, Ganyu, and Shenhe were all dancing around their own homecomings? So what if people were waiting to welcome them? They should go ahead and accept it, and make all the less confusion for him! Good riddance!

He breathed in deep. Held tight to the anger. Let it go.

It doesn’t matter.

It doesn’t matter.

It. Doesn’t. Matter.

He stood and walked away into the dark.

The story went like this: once upon a time, little Ajax of Morepesok set out into the woods, buoyed by his father’s tales of adventure and hoping to find excitement of his own outside his large family and boring fishing village. He found that excitement, at a terrible cost. He fell into the Abyss. It was hard to breathe, there. Cold, in a different way from Snezhnaya’s winter. It teemed with monsters to the point there was no rest between the waves, and he ran and ran and ran until he found a woman who pressed a sword into his hands and said, Pull your weight. She taught him how to fight. How to be vigilant. How to take down a beast twenty times his size without hesitation. He spent three months swimming through blood and corruption before somehow, miraculously, he found his boots digging into snow again. He didn’t know how he’d escaped the Abyss. All he knew was that his mother and sisters found him in the woods, weeping that he’d been gone for three days. Three days, when he was caked in the filth of three months. Predictably, he didn’t readjust well. The swordswoman had taught him to strike first, to be constantly on guard, to stare down any foe with a savage grin even when he felt like screaming. There was no rest, he might die, he couldn’t afford to relax— and this was not acceptable in Morepesok.

Arrogant, they called him.

Troublemaker, others agreed.

His father thought he was a danger to the family. He had Ajax conscripted, hoping the Fatui would put him in his place. It was the opposite, really. When his fellow conscripts and teachers approached, Ajax remembered the bite of the Abyss again—lectors, mages, monsters (they’re coming to get me after all)—and lashed out hard. The swordswoman had taught him better than any Fatui instructor. He rocketed up the ranks. The higher he went, the tougher his foes, but he found that oddly soothing. The Abyss’ monsters had gotten stronger the longer he was there; it was almost nice to think that the real world operated on the rules he already knew, and if he was getting stronger by besting ever stronger opponents, that meant the Abyss would never catch him unaware again. He would become the strongest person in the world and nothing would ever threaten him again.

The rumors changed.

He’s a ruthless killer who’s been on the battlefield since he was fourteen.

He lives for war, and laughs at the idea of his own demise.

He looks innocent, but he’s a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

He caught the Tsaritsa’s eye. After years in the Fatui ranks, he was summoned before his Archon to be made into her Eleventh Harbinger. He looked at her directly that day and realized she had the eyes of someone who had seen what he’d seen; felt what he’d felt. She knew him in a way no one else ever had, and still trusted him enough to give him this title. He was recognized. Validated. He vowed, deep in his heart, that he would fight for her until his dying breath.

Morepesok benefitted from his success. His family was very well taken care of. He wasn’t allowed back to visit, though. Rumors of his conduct in the Fatui had reached them, and his father seemed under the impression he might try slitting all their throats if he so much as crossed the threshold. His mother and older siblings regarded him with suspicion, since they’d never moved on from the idea of little Ajax before the Abyss. It was only his three younger siblings who treated him like family, but they weren’t aware of what he did for work, or the blood that stained his hands. When Teucer had asked why he was away from home so much Childe had replied, I’m a toy seller, because it was the coolest job a kid could probably think of, and because he was scared of that bright enthusiasm fading. Someday Teucer would learn the truth; someday he would look at Childe with the same sickened fear as the rest of their family and regret that they ever interacted. For now, though, he called Childe Big Brother and rambled in chicken-scratch letters about childhood drama, toy ideas, and how much he wanted to see him again.

Childe wanted very badly to be seen and welcomed. It was no wonder his lies spiraled so wildly out of control in a desperate attempt to keep that.

Once upon a time, Childe—Tartaglia, Eleventh Harbinger, Ajax, all of those things—was sent on a mission to Liyue Harbor. The Tsaritsa he’d vowed his heart to ordered him to steal the Geo Archon’s gnosis. He snuck into the city under the guise of a diplomat and immediately set to work looking for where to find Rex Lapis. This was a slow process to begin with, but he found himself stalling more and more. The fearful thrill and anxiety still lanced under his skin sometimes, but it felt… muffled. He found himself talking with civilians interested in what he had to say, watching shows in downtime he hadn’t even considered before, sampling new foods at restaurants and plotting ways to recreate them in his own kitchen.

He met Zhongli, and was fascinated.

He spent countless hours listening to Zhongli talk—first in an attempt to gather information for his mission, then in bemusement, then in an attempt to engage. Zhongli always spoke with a reassuring calm, and his cor lapis eyes shone bright with pleasure when Childe brought up previous topics and proved he’d been paying attention. He was enthusiastic about the smallest details, and bashful when realizing he’d forgotten his wallet. Childe was already in the habit of spoiling his little siblings rotten, and it wasn’t hard for him to latch onto Zhongli in the same way. Maybe he thought he could buy affection. It was worth a shot. He was willing to throw away every mora in his possession as long as he could keep meeting up for dinner reservations, and see Zhongli look up from his tea with that small smile. There was a point several months in where Childe realized that he’d put his Harbinger duties almost completely on hold without meaning to; all his free time and strategy had been turned toward hanging out with Zhongli. Wasn’t that awful? He’d made a vow. What was he doing, chasing after the attentions of a man whose god Childe was meant to be dethroning? What would Zhongli say if he knew why Childe was there? What would he think if he knew Childe was Tartaglia, the bloodthirsty vanguard? What kind of expression would Zhongli make at betrayal? Childe didn’t want to know. He put it off. He kept writing to Teucer about a fictional Liyue Toy Institute, and kept up his diplomat act with Zhongli.

Liyue seemed to embrace him. He didn’t really remember what home was supposed to feel like, but he thought this might be it. He didn’t want it to change.

Once upon a time, the Harbinger La Signora stole the gnosis of Mondstadt’s Archon, Barbatos. In the ensuing international frenzy, Childe knew he had to make his own move soon or face the wrath of the Tsaritsa. The Rite of Descension happened, and Rex Lapis’ corpse fell out of the sky. That was one positive, he’d thought; even if he was after the gnosis, he hadn’t killed the god himself so it was one less thing for Zhongli to be betrayed over. He rushed his plan into action: turn the Qixing and the Adepti against each other, shift suspicion, gain access to Rex Lapis’ body in the Golden House— only to find it wasn’t a body, just a shell, so Rex Lapis must’ve been somewhere else trying to lure Childe out. Two could play at that game. Osial was unleashed. The Qixing and Adepti flew into battle, but their Archon didn’t join them. Childe had circled the action as much as he could, squinting through the torrential rain for any sign of Rex Lapis’ approach. It never came. The Jade Chamber fell. Osial was defeated. The fighters returned. Childe retreated to the Northland Bank to lick his wounds, and found Zhongli and La Signora there already.

Once upon a time, the Tsaritsa and Rex Lapis made a contract. It turned out that Rex Lapis didn’t want to be an Archon anymore. He agreed to give away his gnosis if the Tsaritsa would help him test the people of Liyue, to be sure they could protect and sustain themselves without his help. The Tsaritsa called for a troublemaker and ordered, steal the Geo Archon’s gnosis. When Childe was gone, she called for La Signora and told her the truth of the contract. La Signora was ordered to oversee the mission; she kept in contact with Rex Lapis, made sure Childe was staying on task, and made her reports to the Tsaritsa about the proceedings. Childe was very specifically left out of the loop, even when every other person in the contract knew what was going on. Zhongli was the Geo Archon, and had known about Childe’s horrible reputation the whole time. In retrospect, of course Zhongli would agree to all those meetings: it got him plenty of food and trinkets on the Fatui’s bill, and the longer Childe dragged his feet the more desperate Zhongli probably was to drop hints about how to start the chaos necessary.  These had not been friendly interactions. They were business. More schemes. That day in the Northland Bank, Childe had to stand there and watch Zhongli hand over his gnosis to another Harbinger. All the anxiety and angst Childe had felt over his stupid mission and what it would do to Liyue had meant nothing at all.

It was a funny thing to be the one betrayed, when he’d spent so many months trying to work up the nerve to betray someone else. Bitter. Resigned. Completely and utterly humiliating.

Childe had difficulty accepting everything. It felt like a massive failure all around. Even if the Tsaritsa got what she wanted, he’d failed in carrying out the orders he’d been given. A completely different person got the gnosis and the glory, while he was left stationed in the middle of the mess he’d created. At one point he’d have been happy to stay, but now he knew that welcoming feeling was a lie. He picked up the shattered bits of what had almost felt like safety, and hated himself for ever thinking he was more than a tool of war.

He had never been wanted.

He could be used, of course, but never wanted.

Chapter Text

Subrosium was very pretty.

All the rocks were pretty, to be honest.

With nowhere to store them properly in the bank, Childe had taken his “gifts” back to his apartment. When he stepped out of his bedroom the next morning it was to a living room cast in glittering color. The orangey glow of cor lapis leant warmth to the space, cut through by the early sunlight catching on the facets of noctilucous jade and subrosium. The luster thrown onto the walls made it seem like someplace beautiful, mystical… when really it was a third-floor corner space with the owner of a small food stall screaming in the alley just outside. The yelling hadn’t started up yet, so Childe stretched and surveyed the scene at his leisure.

If they never figured out the source, he wouldn’t mind keeping all these rocks. What he’d do with all of them he didn’t really know. Maybe just keep them there to look at. Start a hoard. Maybe— Shit. Was this how Zhongli’s mind worked? It’s so pretty I must have it even if I have no purpose for it? Ugh, whatever. At least subrosium and the other rocks were cooler than most of the junk Zhongli had recently accumulated. Not that Childe had bought him junk, but— Wow, this was a horrible train of thought.

Childe forcibly put all of that out of his mind and got ready for the day. He hadn’t yet decided on today’s Jade Chamber distraction, but he did need to stop by the bank quickly. It was early enough that the streets weren’t very crowded but Childe wasn’t taking chances. He took a roundabout, sneaky route from the apartments to the bank (very good to have when Fatui were potential hostiles in a foreign land) and entered through the back door. First, there tended to be some food and drinks in the break room… Childe’s feet brought him there automatically, but he stopped short in the doorway to take in the sight.

Yesterday, Nadia had told him that the Jade Chamber contestants had left teacups for him; teacups left all over the railing and stairs like weird offerings. He hadn’t considered how many teacups that would be. It was a frightening amount. Seemingly every flat surface in the break room was stacked high with mismatched teacups, so many teacups that they overflowed into piles on the floor. A Hydrogunner was attempting to wash them all with a Pyro agent taking on drying duties. They looked ridiculous, doing this in full uniform. Their backs were turned to the door, but as soon as they heard footsteps approaching the Hydrogunner pointed at the stack to his left, “Dirty,” and then to his right, “Clean,” before dunking his hands back into the sink. “Feel free to take some home, we don’t have the space in the cupboards.”

“Damn, there really are a lot of them,” Childe marveled. “Sorry you got stuck dealing with this.”

The Hydrogunner startled badly enough that the water splashed, and the Pyro agent nearly dropped the cup he was toweling dry.

“Lord Harbinger! I didn’t realize it was you.”

“I like to be sneaky,” said Childe. He spotted a green teacup with a pattern that was not Rex Lapis’ Archon symbol, thank you, and picked that up. He poured himself some tea and started hunting for the jam. “Don’t mind me, I’m only going to be here for twenty minutes at most.”

“Does Ekaterina know you’re here?” asked the Hydrogunner.

“No, and if we all know what’s good for us, she won’t—”

“Lord Harbinger.”

Childe flinched, mid-stir. The two agents put their heads down quickly and returned to the washing. Childe set aside the spoon he’d been using, turned around super-casually and wheedled, “Ekaterina! Hey! How’s… the bank?”

Ekaterina stood in the doorway, mask doing nothing to dim the sheer murder in her glare. “You’re not supposed to be here.” She gestured at all the teacups. “Look what people do when they think you’re here!”

“Okay, but it’s mail day,” said Childe.

“You said you’d be making yourself obvious somewhere else!”

“But mail day.”

Ekaterina groaned and rubbed at her temples. “You’re impossible.”

“You seem stressed and the day’s barely started. Should I assume my secret admirer has returned?” said Childe.

“They did,” she groaned.

Childe was probably in too good a mood right now because he accepted this very easily.

“More subrosium?” he guessed.

“Iron,” said Ekaterina.

“Iron?”

“Iron.”

“Huh. That doesn’t seem to match their track record,” said Childe, taking a contemplative sip of his tea. “All those ridiculously valuable stones and they cap it off with one of the most common ores possible? Curious.”

“We’ve called for Ivanovich to confirm the items, just in case,” said Ekaterina.

“I think I want to take a look at them, too,” said Childe. “You’ve already inspected them for anything strange?”

“Yes, sir.”

Childe nodded to himself and trekked to his office. Yes, when he peeked in, he found the rocks on his desk to be very much like standard iron chunks. They were particularly boring after waking up to all the other ‘gifts’ this morning.

“Do you think that admirer ran out of money?” asked Nadia, peering in too.

“Maybe it’s a copycat,” said an Electro cicin mage.

“You think more than one person can break in here?” said a Geochanter.

“Maybe they thought their other gifts were too overwhelming?” said a Pyroslinger.

There was a whole crowd in the hallway all muttering about the possibilities. So much attention. Childe scowled and stepped in to get a better look. Almost as soon as he did, the iron shifted color. It got sort of… orange-ish.

“Stand back!” Ekaterina hissed, catching him by the scarf.

The crowd dissolved into a panic. As Ekaterina towed him back several agents jumped between Childe and the door, as if to take whatever blow a rock was supposed to be able to dish out.

“It’s just a rock!” Childe called over their heads. “Everyone it’s— I’m a Harbinger and that’s a rock  that we’ve already inspected—”

The rock failed to unleash any kind of torment on them, but they refused to let Childe back into the office until after the Geochanter had spelled a shield around him. Childe prowled back in with a scowl. The iron had dulled when he left the room, but now the closer he got the more it glowed, and it wasn’t the only thing. The vision clipped to Childe’s belt had started to resonate with it: unlike its usual cool Hydro blue, it gleamed as gold as the iron now, vibrant and downright glittering. His hidden delusion was reacting similarly, though not quite as strongly. They didn’t feel wrong. He knew what it felt like when someone else tried to pull control of elemental constructs from you, but he didn’t feel any struggle for his power. He felt sort of like he was… basking in the sun.

“Fascinating,” he murmured, running a hand over the stone. It didn’t react any stronger to his touch but his vision may as well have been a lamp.

“Starsplinter iron!” came a whimper from the doorway.

Ivanovich had arrived and promptly sank to his knees, expression caught between awe and incredulity.

“Rare?” Childe checked.

“Extremely,” said Ivanovich. “The only reliable way to find it is to track it down with the help of a vision! Just like this!”

“That’s kind of annoying, but I’ve got to say, my admirer has great taste,” said Childe. “Each delivery is a little more entertaining than the last.”

Whoever this ‘admirer’ was, they apparently either had a vision themselves or had someone on their payroll who did. That would help narrow down the search. Childe mentioned as much to Ekaterina and she nodded, clearly already thinking along the same lines. Childe stepped away from the starsplinter iron, and both stone and vision faded a little. He wished he could stay and mess with it some more—was this what Teucer felt like when confronted with Mr. Cyclops?—but he had a reputation to keep and distractions to make. He’d just have to hope that when they tracked down the source his admirer would let him keep all these insanely expensive rocks, or in the more likely case, that when the admirer demanded all the gifts back, a little piece of it got ‘lost.’

“How about the mail?” he asked. “I only meant to stop in quickly for any letters. Is there anything from Morepesok?”

“Nothing at all yet, my lord. There’s been a storm in Snezhnaya and the ships are delayed,” said Ekaterina. “They should still arrive in the next few days. I’ll let you know when the mail arrives, but please, for the love of the Tsaritsa, wait until I tell you it’s here before you sneak into the bank again. Liyue’s citizens may not be particularly skilled at surveillance, but they make up with that with sheer numbers and determination. I’m sure one of them has seen you this morning, even by accident.”

Childe gave a disappointed hum. “I suppose you’re right. They’re almost scary in their tenacity…”

This was only reinforced when Javert hurried into the hallway too, saying, “Ekaterina, there’s a crowd growing outside, they say they saw Lord Tartaglia—Ah.”

“Ah,” Ekaterina echoed, holding her head in her hands.

“That’s my cue to stir up trouble somewhere else,” said Childe, and exited through his office window before Ekaterina could get mad again.

He hustled along the backs of the buildings again, close to the cliffside. Distractions, distractions, what could he make a scene with… Aha. He cut back out into the main street near Xigu Antiques and called out, “Traveler! I see you’re up bright and early today.”

Lumine’s step faltered. She’d been walking with Shenhe again, presumably looking for more Jade Chamber information.

“You again!” cried Paimon. “Where do you keep coming from?”

“Oh, here and there,” Childe said cheerily, and let his eyes drift toward Shenhe. “I hope you aren’t awake so early because of the birds? They’re so loud, aren’t they? Or maybe you woke up in peace, with the birds mysteriously missing…”

Lumine frowned, perplexed. “The birds were… fine?”

“They were pretty normal,” said Paimon, equally confused.

Shenhe, though. Shenhe suspected. Her eyes narrowed and Childe met her gaze with a grin. 

“Well, if the birds were silenced it would be easier to sleep, wouldn’t it?”

“Uhhh,” said Lumine and Paimon.

Shenhe’s eyes narrowed further.

“I understand Shenhe goes to great lengths to help the people she cares about, even if it’s a little violent—"

And that did it. In a flurry of golden sparks Shenhe manifested her polearm and advanced on him.

“Cloud Retainer told you,” she said coldly. “You need to die, now.”

“No!” Lumine wailed, throwing herself between them. “No, no, no, no— You!” She pointed at Childe, who raised his hands in mock innocence. “Shut up and stay out of this! Shenhe, he’s not worth it!”

“If Cloud Retainer has shared one story, she must’ve shared many. He’s going to run his mouth,” said Shenhe, eyes still fixed on him.

“He won’t!” said Lumine.

“I will,” Childe sang.

“Shut your mouth, dummy, we’re trying to cover for you!” cried Paimon, waving a fist at him.

“Not necessary,” said Childe.

“It will take only a minute,” said Shenhe, trying and failing to step around Lumine.

“I’m not that easy,” said Childe.

“Two minutes,” said Shenhe.

“No minutes, because we’re not doing this!” said Lumine.  

By this time they’d gained an audience, which was exactly what Childe had been hoping for. He looked over the gathering crowd, all the more attention-grabbing when there was an “Adeptus” involved in the ruckus, and decided this was good enough.

“Now, now, I’m just kidding,” he said, stepping closer to them. “I have nothing to gain from spreading any stories about Shenhe, heartwarming as they may be—”

“I’ll rip the heart right out of your chest,” said Shenhe.

“Promises, promises,” said Childe, unconcerned.

“You’re insane,” said Lumine. “Shenhe, really, he’s just looking for a reaction. We’ll make him way more unhappy by refusing to engage.”

“Or maybe we should show him a real reaction to teach him a lesson,” said Shenhe.

“Should we set up a time for a duel?” Childe suggested. He’d started this for the distraction but he really did like the idea of a fight. “The Golden House is still open, as far as I know—”

“We have better things to do than kick your butt!” said Paimon. “Shenhe, come on, we’re supposed to be researching Wonder Cores!"

“Oh!” Childe said louder, looking meaningfully at the audience, “So you know about Wonder Cores!”

“Why are you saying it like that?” said Lumine.

Paimon gave an exaggerated gasp. “Are they one of your weird Fatui inventions?”

“What?” said Childe, thrown off. “No!”

“They are!” gasped Lumine, but where Paimon seemed genuinely shocked, there was a sneaky smile growing on her face. “Oh, gracious Snezhnayan diplomat, I beg for your assistance—"

Childe scowled. “I don’t appreciate that sass.”

“And I don’t appreciate you picking fights,” said Lumine. To the audience she called, “That was a joke!” before turning back to him. “Please behave.”

“I’m a gracious Snezhnayan diplomat, of course I behave,” said Childe.

Lumine rolled her eyes. “Does the gracious Snezhnayan diplomat have any advice for me about where to find a Wonder Core?”

“No,” he said flatly.

“Drat,” said Lumine.

“If he doesn’t have information, is he really worth keeping alive?” said Shenhe.

“Shenhe, please, we’re in Jade Chamber mode!” Paimon whined.

“Childe’s good backup in strange domains, too. We can’t risk losing that for the future,” said Lumine.

Shenhe’s mouth twisted in disappointment but she dismissed her weapon. “If you believe this is the best route to success, I’ll acquiesce… even if I believe this route is stupid.”

“Thank you!” said Paimon.

While they seemed occupied with themselves, Childe turned to leave. He was not sulking, thank you. Unfortunately Lumine fell into step with him, and the others trailed along behind.

“For real, though, do you know anything about the Jade Chamber items? The sooner the competition’s over, the sooner your celebrity status goes away,” she said.

“Why would I know anything about the Jade Chamber items?” said Childe.

“I don’t know, why did you know anything about the Sigils of Permission?”

“Zhongli. Obviously.” He sent her an annoyed look. “Why don’t you go ask him?”

“Hu Tao says he’s been on an extended trip getting supplies for Wangsheng, but he is supposed to be back soon,” Lumine mused. “Yeah, I’ll ask… It just keeps slipping my mind that I can ask him. It feels weird, involving an Archon in a scavenger hunt.”

“Ex-Archon,” Childe corrected.

Lumine shook her head to clear it. “He’s not back yet, though, so I’ll have to keep looking for other leads. Maybe Xingqiu will have some information. He pulled through on the Sunset Vermillionite, so maybe…”

Because of course he did.

“Is that why you’re following me through Feiyun Slope?” asked Childe.

“Is it a crime to walk together?” said Lumine.

“I don’t know, ask the Tianquan,” Childe grumbled.

“You’re really grumpy,” said Paimon. “Are you that annoyed by the Jade Chamber, or are you just mad because we mentioned—”

“Don’t say it,” Childe snapped. He was mad because his little distraction play may have gained more attention for him than it deflected. It had nothing to do with anyone they may or may not have mentioned. “The longer you’re seen with me, the more people will assume I know things about this contest, and I’m already dealing with enough attention. I can’t even get groceries without random people coming after me.”

“Is it really that bad?” asked Lumine. Her expression was pensive. “You’ve been sort of… absent, recently. Xiangling said it’s been two months since you visited Wanmin last time, and before that you were almost aggressively social. Is it bad that people want to talk to you again?”

“They’re only in it for whatever mora can be made,” Childe scoffed. “Trust me, anyone trying to track me down right now is only doing it because they believe the worst of me.”

“But—”

Childe ignored her. They’d reached the vicinity of the bank, and sure enough Vlad was heading off a crowd near the doors.

“Really,” he was saying, exasperated, “Master Childe is not here this morning! He’ll be out of the office for at least the next week—”

No one was accepting that answer.

“Good morning, Vlad!” Childe called, waving. “Lovely weather we’re having!”

The crowd gaped before backtracking, shouting and scrambling down the stairs to catch him.

“That’s my cue to leave,” Childe told Lumine with a big fake smile. “Do me a favor. Once you get whatever Wonder Cores you need, go around and announce the details somewhere public so no one has to try annoying it out of me.”

He hurried away before she could respond. He quickly descended the stairs to the northern docks and cut around to the smaller, less commercial area. This lost any pursuers before they could spot him and also directed him to one of his favorite fishmongers; he could buy a fish, and then the neighboring stall would cook it up into a quick, tasty meal. That would make a nice breakfast. He walked up with his mind preoccupied with his stomach… and stopped short. On the corner of the fishmonger’s table hung a mask. A very familiar mask. Childe’s hand went up to check that, yes, his Harbinger mask was still pinned to the side of his head. The one in front of him was just a very convincing replica. That was all well and good, but like… why.

“Hey,” he said, pointing, “what is that?”

“Black-back bass,” the fishmonger said cheerily. “Perfect for grilled fish skewers! Are you interested?”

“That wasn’t what I meant,” said Childe.

“Oh!” The fishmonger kept smiling as he gutted a particularly large fish. “Then you must mean the shirakodai. Ten percent discount!”

“That’s… also not what I meant.”

The fishmonger kept on dismantling the fish with the unerring precision of a very sharp knife and inhumanly calm smile. Was this… a threat? Was the fish supposed to represent Childe in some weird potential situation? Childe didn’t feel threatened in the least, but he was confused. How had he managed to offend this particular person?

He bought his fish, had it cooked up into a grilled skewer, and sat on one of the crates to eat. He took in his surroundings, enjoying the ocean breeze, watching Changchang play, listening to the daily ambiance, and… wait a minute. Closer to the bridge was another little stall displaying an array of parasols, and perched on one of those open parasols, in pride of place, was another copy of his mask. He finished his food and made his way over.

“Hey, there,” he greeted.

“Master diplomat!” said the stall owner, all smiles. “It’s so good to see you again! Do you remember the parasols you purchased here last year? The blue one with the flowers, the white one with the birds, the green one with the fish… I trust they’ve served you well?”

She seemed very excited. No one had been this excited to see him since before Osial. It was doubtless some kind of ploy—even if someone did still like him for some reason (mora) they wouldn’t dare act like this for fear of the city’s scorn falling on them, too. It was nice, though. It felt a little too easy to fall back into the smiling persona.

“My siblings were thrilled with them,” he said. “My sister carried hers everywhere for a solid month, and most of her letter raved about how pretty it is.”

“I’m glad to hear it!” said the stall owner, and genuinely looked so. “It’s always such a pleasure to hear everything is going so well.”

They exchanged a few more pleasantries before Childe managed to turn attention to the mask: “I couldn’t help but see what you’d placed on this one…”

“Ah!” The stall owner picked up the umbrella in question. Instead of addressing the mask she just picked it up and tucked it under her arm. She pointed out details on the parasol pattern instead. “As you can see, this features Rex Lapis! Rising from the blue of the harbor’s waves, up through the clouds and into the golden sky… This was a popular design in silk screens. If you’ve been to Third Round Knockout, Iron Tongue Tian had one like this displayed while presenting the story of Ahzdaha.”

Childe hummed with appreciation. It was nice, but it wasn’t what he wanted to focus on. “Beautifully done. I wondered, though, about what was on top…”

The stall owner turned the parasol and traced a finger along its structure. “Yes, the ribs, handle, and head are unique in that—”

“Master diplomat!”

Childe winced. The crowd from the bank had tracked him down. As they flooded in with questions the stall owner strategically turned her parasols to be more visible and hung the mask copy from her stall’s overhang. Oh, no. Was she in league with them? Were the fake masks something like a target, to mark out where Childe was likely to be? No wonder she’d been happy to see him. She’d probably meant to stall him until they arrived. Treachery. Childe backed up, casting around for a distraction, and found the most perfect, most terrible one possible.

Zhongli was back.

He was crossing the bridge, the ends of his dark coat flaring behind his sure strides, his attention fully fixed on Childe. His red-lined eyes radiated light like the most brilliant cuts of cor lapis.

How had Childe not realized this man was a god, before? How did eyes like that slip past everyone’s notice, when the book Rex Incognito described Rex Lapis exactly as Zhongli appeared?

Archons, Childe needed a drink already.

“Wow, look!” he cried, pointing overdramatically. “It’s Zhongli! I’ll bet he knows!”

The crowd shifted focus in the blink of an eye and charged. It was pretty impressive. Zhongli was so focused on Childe that he didn’t seem to notice at first, and only faltered when the crowd threatened to slam right into him. He blinked at the shouting multitude with genuine confusion. Childe took advantage of this to flee the scene.

Ah, how wonderful, to finally turn this misfortune to his advantage!

He hurried back across the city, all the way into Chihu Rock, where he ducked into the alleys to stay out of sight. This may have been the opposite side of the city from where Zhongli was, but he didn’t want to get waylaid by any Adventurers Guild members either. He crept through the alleys, wracking his brain for a good hideout for the day.  

“You’ll find all the tools in the back room. Please, help yourselves. I’ll stay outside and, ah, mind my own business…”

“Just what are you suggesting here?”

Hang on, Childe recognized both of those voices. He took two steps back and looked down the alley at the next street. Lady Ningguang and Captain Beidou stood outside Ying’er’s shop. Ningguang’s mildly scandalized expression dissolved into a scowl as Beidou barked out a laugh and elbowed her.

“Oh, she couldn’t possibly be suggesting we take a little room to ourselves.”

“I’d never dream of suggesting such a thing,” Ying’er giggled. “You’re just so easy to tease.”

“If I hear any strange new rumors after this—” Ningguang grumbled.

“Please, I’m very discrete,” said Ying’er.

“Besides, aren’t there new rumors every time you walk through town anyway?” said Beidou.

Ningguang shot her a dark look. “You know full well that these rumors would be different.”

“Yes,” Beidou mocked. “Your whole illustrious reputation would come crumbling down if anyone knew you were asking for my measurements.”

“Scandalous,” Ying’er lilted.

“Oh, be silent,” said Ningguang.

The others only laughed.

“Luckily for your ego, I’ve got places to be,” said Beidou.

Ningguang didn’t look in any way relieved. “Where is that?”

“Eh, depends where I find the people I need,” said Beidou.

“If you’re looking for assistance, I’m always glad to lend a hand,” said Ying’er.

“Thanks, but something tells me this isn’t in your wheelhouse for once. It’s about the Jade Chamber. I’m planning to team up with the other two top competitors. Between the three of us we’ll have a pretty massive network. Working together will be faster and a hell of a lot more efficient.”

“The sooner we make our move, the better,” Ningguang murmured. Louder she said, “I have meetings of my own to attend to. Ying’er, please contact Baiwen once you’ve compiled all of the information. Best of luck, Captain Beidou.”

“Don’t work too hard, Tianquan,” Beidou shot back with a grin, and they went their separate ways.

Hm. That was weird. From everything Childe had heard, they were meant to hate each other’s guts, not tease each other like friends. Clearly he was missing something, here. Whatever it was would have to wait; he had to get out of here before Ying’er noticed his presence.

He walked back out the other side of the alley, glanced around, and immediately wished he’d settled for Ying’er. There was Zhongli again, walking way too fast for the neutral look on his face. More people clamored at his heels but he seemed to be ignoring their existence. Childe jumped back into the alley and hustled away into the maze. After ten minutes he’d looped around, and had to dodge down another passage to avoid the Jade Chamber contestants again.

“Did you see where he went?” one was saying.

“He just vanished! They both disappeared, like—like— Adepti.”

“Not that Mister-Zhongli’s-an-Adeptus conspiracy again…”

“I’m telling you, it’s unnatural!”

They’d lost track of Zhongli. Childe lost track of Zhongli. Shit, where had he disappeared to? The sound of footsteps tipped him off, and Childe dashed away before his own pursuer could catch sight of him.

They went through the docks in what had to be the most stupid, convoluted game of hide and seek possible. Childe darted across the decks, dodged behind fishmongers, and hopped on and off ships. The docks were so busy he got barely a grumble from the people he nearly bumped into, and no one else could follow him through the mess. Zhongli, though? Zhongli doggedly pursued, never quite catching up but also never quite losing track of him either. At one point Childe spotted him surveying the scene from a rooftop. That was definitely cheating. How had he even gotten up there?

Okay, running wasn’t working. Childe needed some kind of shield. He ran up into town again and dove under Granny Shan’s display table.

“I’m not here!” he whispered loudly. “Please, I’m not here!”

Granny Shan didn’t have time to reply. Seemingly seconds later, Zhongli’s voice asked, “Excuse me, Granny Shan, but have you seen Master Childe?”

Zhongli was a well-respected man with great admiration for her kites, but ultimately Childe was the one with mora.

“I can’t say that I have,” said Granny Shan.

“Ah,” said Zhongli, disappointed. “If you do see him later, would you tell him that I’m looking for him? There is an important matter we need to discuss, something I’ve regrettably taken far too much time on…”

“But of course!” said Granny Shan. “Before you go, though, Mister Zhongli, I wondered if I could get your input? I’ve been commissioned for a new kite depicting the Yaksha Pervases. I remember you speaking of him before, and I want to be sure this does him justice.”

“It would be my pleasure,” said Zhongli.

They quickly fell into discussion over whatever design she showed him. Sprawled out on the ground under the table, Childe rolled his eyes. This was surely going to result in Zhongli monologuing for the next twenty minutes. Depending on whether Granny Shan encouraged him, it could take hours. He wondered vaguely if this was a siege tactic; if one or both of the parties above him were hoping he’d get bored enough to crawl out and make up with Zhongli anyway. The joke was on them, because Childe had nowhere better he needed to be. It might actually be… nice, to listen in on Zhongli’s rambling again.

“Pervases was indeed one of the Guardian Yakshas,” Zhongli was saying. “Of that proud number only Xiao remains, and he was quite close with Pervases. Pervases was a junior in the order of the Yakshas, with his name given by Rex Lapis himself. He was, to my knowledge, quite fond of Grilled Ticker Fish. In shape he tended to appear as a bird…”

Childe rested his head against the paving stones. In the gap between tablecloth and ground he could see Zhongli’s shoes. They were close enough that Childe could reach out and grab his ankle—really spook him—but at the same time it felt like an immeasurable distance.

A deeply bitter part of him wished again that the Osial debacle and its leadup had never happened. He didn’t think he blamed Zhongli for any of it, but that was complicated. It made sense for Zhongli to have monitored the situation—contracts were tied into his very existence, and this one had potential to ruin everything he’d spent six thousand years building—but did he have to observe so closely? He’d become the focal point of Childe’s Liyue experience, only to go silent and run off into the hills to start his retirement. Childe was left feeling dumb and used, and while he was used to that with the other sneaky Harbingers, he’d never anticipated it from Zhongli. It hurt.

When it all came down to it, the hurt was his own fault. He should’ve known better. He should’ve followed the warnings given to him at the start of this mission. He should’ve known better than to think he could be wanted.

“Mister Zhongli!”

One of the pursuers had caught up. Childe watched the feet quickly approaching and then skidding to a stop.

“Mister Zhongli, please have mercy on my humble self!” said the newcomer, with the same plaintive distress people had used when begging Shenhe for Adeptus blessings. “I’ve been running all over Liyue Harbor trying to find information on Wonder Cores! I beg of you, will you tell me what they’re made of?”

Zhongli turned to face him, giving a thoughtful hum. “Wonder Cores…”

“Yes!” said the newcomer, hope bleeding into his tone.

“I assume you mean the device referenced for use in the Jade Chamber?” said Zhongli.

“Yes, yes!” cried the newcomer.

“I see,” Zhongli said slowly. “I am not familiar with them.”

Everyone above and below the table were stunned by that reply.

“But— But— How?” said the newcomer.

“My hypothesis is that this Wonder Core is a specialized item engineered specifically for the Jade Chamber’s purposes,” said Zhongli. “If there is no purpose in it elsewhere, the secrets of its creation would not have been disseminated and no one outside the construction would have any knowledge of its existence, let alone the desire to replicate it. Additionally, as such a vital component, Lady Ningguang may have intentionally kept its existence quiet, to ensure no one would be able to sabotage the Wonder Cores while they were active inside the Jade Chamber. I admit I am perplexed by the fact that she has shared no further knowledge about the item while at the same time asking others to provide it, but it is possible that, in addition to her own security, she views your hunt for information as a determining factor in whether you are worthy of the knowledge she may give you as reward.”

“Then… then there’s no leads at all?” the newcomer whimpered. “The only information anyone’s been able to gather was when the Snezhnayan diplomat said to check with artisans, but that was just a dead end.”

“Is it, truly? That seems to be sound advice, to me,” said Zhongli.

“Really?”

“Of course. The very name, Wonder Core, implies that it is a manmade object, and surely Lady Ningguang would only trust the most skilled in Liyue Harbor to craft it for her,” said Zhongli. “For it to be called core implies also that it may be similar in structure to the Chaos Core that can be scavenged from ruin machines. Therefore, it can be assumed to be at least partially a metallic object. I would encourage you to speak with the most talented artisans who specialize in ores and metals.”

“And who would that be?” said the newcomer, hope refreshed.

Zhongli gave another contemplative hum. He was probably doing that pose again, the thinking one with one hand up to his chin.

“The art of forging prizes precision and diligence. The tasks of forging items and processing ore require a great deal of time and patience. To most, the sound of iron being struck with a hammer is loud and intrusive. But to those who appreciate this art form, it is like the toll of a bell. Breathtaking, and transfixing. The sound of metal clashing with metal causes one to fall quiet, calms one’s spirit, focuses one’s attention, and then, with a mind emptied of unwanted thoughts, devote oneself fully to the work at hand. The wondrous ley lines of Liyue produce all manner of exquisite ore, so it follows naturally that distinguished artisans and prized wares arise in response… but I have always thought that a craftsman’s ingenuity is far more valuable than any precious stone. The most accomplished in their craft do not limit themselves to working exclusively with rare ores. Hanfeng Ironmongers, for example, has a long history. Ownership has been passed down from generation to generation, and today it is known as the most reputable blacksmith in the land…”

“Hanfeng, of course!” said the newcomer. “And your thoughts on an artisan’s integrity must surely align with Lady Ningguang’s, too. Do you have any other recommendations for me to follow up on?”

“I trust you have heard of the houses of Kun and Yun?” said Zhongli. “The house of Kun is a long-established name in the art of forging. To this day, their descendants continue their craft. The house of Yun, however, didn’t limit themselves to it. They branched out into many different disciplines and districts. Their descendants today still uphold the work ethic taught within their family for generations: Even ostensible perfection can oft be improved upon through diligence. This has contributed towards their excellence in numerous fields. The talented Yun Jin of operatic fame is indeed a descendant of the historic house of Yun. Her ancestors changed professions long ago, and it was her father’s generation that dedicated themselves to the performing arts. In this day and age, the Yun family’s history has been forgotten, and few people are aware of the connection they had to the art of forging. It may prove useful to reach out to the Yun family regardless, to see if any members have strayed back into forging. Even if not, Yun Jin’s opera troupe sometimes needs materials forged for their performances, and they will surely have an eye for quality similar to the Tianquan’s, as well.”

“That’s amazing!” said the newcomer. “Thank you, Mister Zhongli! I’m in your debt—”

“It’s no debt at all. I wish you luck in your search,” said Zhongli.

“Yes, sir! Thank you, sir!”

The newcomer ran off to whatever investigating he needed to do, and after a promise to revisit the Yaksha kite design after materials were gathered, Zhongli also departed. Childe waited until he was sure those coattails were long gone before crawling out from under the table and patting the dirt off his clothes.

“Thanks, Granny Shan,” he sighed. “It got a little close there, earlier…”

“You can’t rush these things,” said Granny Shan, nodding sagely. Exactly what she thought was being rushed, Childe had no idea. “I do think you should speak with Mister Zhongli at some point, through. He seems properly contrite, and I’m sure it will do both of you some good.”

Yeah, no.

“Thanks for the advice! I’ll remember it,” said Childe, and left before she could try pressing the matter. 

Decent hiding places had proved better than being on the run. He wasn’t about to make already-hostile merchants more upset by hiding under their tables for the rest of the day, but he did have another location to retreat to.

“Xiangling!” he said brightly, entering through Wanmin’s back window the same way he had a few days ago. “Let’s make a deal. I refuse to sample any experiments, but as long as you hide me here, I will chat over the tests you’re doing and that alchemy book.”

“Childe! It’s so great to see you again!” said Xiangling. “Your timing’s perfect! We’ve got a lull between breakfast and lunch, all the better to research in—”

She wasn’t mad about him barging in. Good.

She set him to work, rereading the alchemy book and chopping ingredients as orders came in. Childe was very good with knives; that part was easy. As for the alchemy, he regurgitated whatever miscellaneous trivia he’d picked up around the crafting bench (and some of what he’d observed from Dottore, ugh). As far as he was concerned it was disjointed idiocy, but Xiangling looked thrilled by the information.

“I’m thinking of writing to Timaeus in Mondstadt to get his perspective, too,” she said. “It sounds as if there are different alchemy styles all across Teyvat! Of course, the recipe I’m looking at is trying to emulate elemental senses, so it’s trickier than I’d expected. Alchemy and allogenes don’t overlap as much as I’d hoped. I did notice something interesting, though! It seems like people with visions can sometimes impose that kind of elemental charge in the things they work on! Ying’er said there was a story like that, about a Geo user who made pottery all full of Geo energy… and I’m sure Guoba’s fire can do something similar! I want to see whether that affects the flavor or not. Can I get you to help us with that?”

“Oh?” said Childe. “How?”

“I want to do a taste comparison!” said Xiangling. “You, dad, and I can all make the same dish! Yours might be subconsciously influenced by Hyrdo, mine by Pyro, and Dad’s would be our standard! We can see what the elements taste like!”

“Something tells me if it were that simple, people would be aware of it already,” said Childe.

“Maybe no one’s thought to test it! Come on, Childe, please?”

Xiangling and Guoba pouted at him. Childe groaned.

“Fine. But my Hydro influence is going to taste downright horrible compared to yours. I’m no pro chef.”

Xiangling bounced on her toes in delight. “Thank you! Do you have a specialty dish? One you’re really confident in? We can all make that one, to make sure everything runs smoothly.”

Internally, Childe kissed goodbye to his cooking confidence; they were going to blow him out of the water. Externally he only nodded and said, “Calla Lily Seafood Soup.”

“We’ve got more than enough ingredients for that!” said Xiangling, delighted. “Dad! Dad, let’s get started now! If everything’s done before the lunch rush, we can give samples to the customers and get their input—”

So all three of them were roped into making soup. It was weird to be doing this in such a large, well-stocked kitchen, but even weirder was the fact that Xiangling and Chef Mao kept abandoning their pots to look over his shoulder and go, “Ooh, so you’re adding that!” and “What a fascinating take! Is this Snezhnayan style?” When the lunch crowds arrived, they’d completed three big pots of soup. Childe’s rendition had never been considered very nice to look at, but the chefs took one look at it and said, “Beautiful!”

“We’re color coding this!” said Xiangling, digging small bowls from the cupboards as Chef Mao moved on to lunch orders. “Blue for Childe’s, red for mine, yellow for Dad’s… then we can keep track easier! Ooh, this is going to be great!” She ladled out portions of each of the soups, then dashed out into the restaurant with them. “Hey everybody, we’re trying different versions of a classic soup, can you let us know which one tastes best?”

The patrons were already hungry, and the promise of a “classic” assured them that no strange ingredients would be appearing, so there were plenty of takers. Chef Mao laughed at the clamor.

“It sounds like she needs some more help. You feel free to stay back here. Have some of the soup. I’ll get more samples out and be right back,” he said, and went into the restaurant with several more bowls.

What kind of idiots were they to leave a Fatui Harbinger alone in their kitchen? Sure, he wasn’t intending to poison their stock, but they didn’t know that! If anyone out there knew he’d made the soup, surely they would have the sense to use caution!

“I am a threat,” he grumbled to himself as he picked up a bowl and reached for the ladle. “I am definitely still a threat!”

“Guo?” said Guoba, blinking up from the stove with no fear whatsoever.

Childe heaved a heavy sigh.

He’d just scooped up a ladleful of crab legs when the door opened again. He turned to face it, crab on full display, but it wasn’t Xiangling.

“Just through here!” she was saying from out of sight. “Take as much time as you need, and let me know how it goes—”

And then the door swung shut and he was no longer alone in the kitchen. He was stuck in the kitchen with Zhongli. To be fair Zhongli looked just as surprised—Xiangling seemed to have pushed him in—but he recovered quickly. His eyes brightened (how could they even get brighter when they were like that already?) and he stepped forward, tone relieved.

“Childe. I’ve been looking for you. I—”

And then he stopped short, because he’d spotted the soup.

Everyone had a weakness. For some people it was a flaw in their fighting form, for others it was some physical target like loved ones, and for others it was another sort of psychological warfare.

Zhongli’s weakness was seafood.

Not all seafood, of course. If it was chopped up beyond recognition he liked the taste just fine, but when it was visibly fish he got a little twitchy. A bass? Easy to obscure and ignore. Shrimp? He’d lean subtly away from them. Anything with tentacles? Most times he’d refuse to be in the same room, and if he was forced to share a building with them, he’d watch them over his shoulder like he was paranoid they would come back to life and crawl all over the restaurant.

When faced with the soup he was caught in the reflex of fight and flight, but quickly dismissed whatever Geo energy he’d gathered and forced himself to stay still.

“Ah,” he said stiltedly. “You are… cooking.”

“I am!” said Childe. He kept his tone upbeat and smile aggressively bright as he ladled another spoonful of soup into the bowl. Cooked tentacles draped over the rim and wobbled. Zhongli shuddered. “Is that why you’re here? Come to sample my masterpiece, after avoiding it for two whole years?”

“It was… not my intention,” said Zhongli. “But… if you are offering…”

“I’m insisting,” Childe said sweetly.

Zhongli sat down. It was more like a dignified collapse into the chair to be honest. Part of Childe felt sick at such obvious discomfort—really, the Geo Archon brought down by some perfectly cooked soup?—but mostly he wanted Zhongli to be uncomfortable. He wanted to be left alone. He kept smiling, radiating hostility as he scooped as much fish as he could into the bowl, and set it in front of Zhongli before doling some out for himself.

“There you go: a Prize Catch! I made sure to put in extra good stuff for you. It’s a real treat.”

“Truly,” Zhongli said weakly.

Childe sat at the table opposite him and proceeded to give the most horrible chopstick display of his life, fishing tentacles out of the broth. Normally Zhongli would be exasperated, but right now he was preoccupied with his own bowl. Slowly, he picked up his utensils. Slowly, he scooped up a spoonful of soup. Wait, was he actually sampling it? He was. Childe fought the urge to gape.

“It is… a perfect selection of seafood,” said Zhongli, but while it may have been praise he still looked ill. “The crab, mint, and calla lily come together perfectly to dance on the tongue. The calla lily especially brings a refreshing taste to such a delicate soup—"

“Delicate, huh?” said Childe. “In the past, I’ve had people describe this dish more as a trapped beast floundering in an ocean of blood…”

Zhongli looked still more ill. “That is… rather indelicate phrasing…”

“Don’t you think it’s true, though?” Childe tipped his bowl, all the better to show off the ingredients. “Doesn’t it look like one big fish monster?”

Zhongli cleared his throat uncomfortably and took another sip that carefully did not have any fish in it. “Perhaps fortunately, it does not resemble any fish I have seen before, monster or otherwise.”

“Not even in their death throes?”

“I’m afraid not.”

“Ah, there goes the last of my credibility,” Childe sighed.

Zhongli gave a guilty twitch. Maybe that was a little too aggressive, but really, he just wanted Zhongli gone—

“I think,” Zhongli said slowly, “that there are certain things that we need to speak about. Your credibility included.”

“Why bother? What’s done is done,” said Childe.

Zhongli’s brows furrowed. “Is it really so simple? Regardless of when the contract occurred, the results are ongoing—”

“No,” Childe cooed. “Really? I never would’ve guessed.”

Zhongli looked distinctly uncomfortable. “The fact that they are ongoing is the very reason we should discuss them. I have no wish for you to suffer—”

“You should’ve thought about that before you put together the contract,” Childe snapped. “Come on, Morax. Aren’t you supposed to be the oldest, wisest, most unwavering of the Seven? Don’t tell me you regret your deal.”

Zhongli’s mouth thinned, but he didn’t admit to any regret.

Childe barked out a laugh. “I’m the bad guy. I played my role. That’s all that needs to be said. Don’t insult me by pretending I didn’t follow the brief, even if I didn’t know what it was at the time. Run back into the hills and enjoy your retirement. There’s no reason for you to be here.”

For a long moment Zhongli didn’t say anything. Then, he deflated. It wasn’t a slump—nothing so obvious—but subtle resignation.

“It is true that I’ve imposed on you long enough. I will take my leave.”

He set the spoon down delicately beside the bowl and stood. The Archon symbol on his back seemed especially forbidding. The sight of it made Childe want to scream. He wanted to froth, rage, overturn the table. He wanted to seize Zhongli by his lapels, shake him and scream how dare you, you stupid lizard, how dare you let me fall for this and then act as if you care, why do I still hate the sight of you leaving more than the reminder of how much I messed up—

Zhongli paused at the door. He turned his head, not enough to truly look at him but enough that his voice rang clear when he said, “I will respect your space, but if you do wish to speak with me in the future, you may find me at Wangsheng Funeral Parlor.”

And then he was gone.

Childe scowled furiously down at his bowl and swapped the cumbersome chopsticks for a spoon. He’d gotten what he wanted, but it hadn’t made him feel any better.

The door opened again and Xiangling came marching in. She stopped next to the table, set her hands on her hips, and gave him a look of supreme disapproval.

“Don’t,” he growled, before she could say anything. “You’re not involved. You don’t know the situation.”

“Nobody does,” she grumbled, moving to clean up the abandoned dishes. “All anyone knows is that you had a fight and now neither of you are happy. I just…” Her hands lingered on the bowl, and she sent Zhongli’s empty seat a sad look. “I like that food can bring people together. You fit so easily with each other before. I wish you could eat together again. I wish you wanted to.”

He did want to eat with Zhongli again. He wanted to drink tea and take walks and go to shows and talk about meaningless things. He wanted it so much it felt almost like a living thing clawing at his insides, like the Abyss had split open his heart.

“Aren’t you lonely?” Xiangling murmured.

“That’s how it should be,” said Childe. He stood up, abandoning his own bowl as well. “I’m going to be late for something. See you later.”

He left through the window just as he’d come in.

His next hiding place was Heyu Teahouse. It was high up and hidden from the main street so passersby couldn’t easily spot him, and if anyone did, no one would dare making a scene in such a wealthy business with such prominent patrons (besides, if anyone dared interrupt Teamaster Liu Su’s latest story, the boss, Fan Er’ye, would swiftly descend on them). Better yet, no one Childe knew frequented the place beyond Zhongli, who would surely be cornered by several more Jade Chamber contestants. He was free. He took a table at the outskirts near the red rail and stairs, drank his tea, and settled in to listen to the stories.

“Haishan, that colossal whale, had never seen such a thing in all the seven seas!” Teamaster Liu Su was saying. “Struggling with all his might, he broke free and turned to dive back into the ocean depths. In a flash, Beidou disappeared without a trace beneath the billowing waves. As the crew looked out upon the crimson-colored ocean, there was no telling Haishan's blood from that of Beidou…”

Maybe Xingqiu should be asking Liu Su all those research questions, Childe mused.

He’d been settled for the better part of an hour when one of his Fatui agents approached. She came in so quietly that none of the other patrons noticed, and stopped near his right elbow.

“I assume you have something to report?” Childe said quietly.

“Yes, sir, regarding the order you gave yesterday,” she replied. “I’ve confirmed why Ying’er was following you, and the project she was working on.”

“Good,” said Childe. At least one thing was going right. “What was it?”

“She was hired because she’s uncannily good at judging people’s measurements,” said the agent.

Childe paused with the cup halfway to his mouth. “Measurements?”

“Yes, measurements,” said the agent.

“For what purpose?” said Childe.

Why on earth would anyone want his measurements? Was some idiot going to try bribing him with fancy clothing, next? No, if it were just gifts of clothing the agent wouldn’t be making such a grievous expression. When she spoke, it sounded like she had to force the words out.

“To know exactly your dimensions, to recreate your image in miniature.”

 “Who would be interested in having my miniature image?” asked Childe.

“Lady Ningguang,” said the agent. “It seems she’s ordered a commemorative edition of that Liyue Millennial game she created. In this edition, all the pieces and board will be based on the battle with Osial. It will feature the guardians of Liyue Harbor on one side… and Osial and the Fatui on the other.”

Childe slowly put the cup down. “Is that so.”

“It will all be to scale,” said the agent, quieter. “Lady Ningguang has ordered that only top-quality material be used, to make the pieces as true to life as possible.”

“Sounds expensive,” said Childe.

“It will be, but she’s already set the market price to be far below the production cost. She said it was more important for citizens to be able to own a symbol of that history. I think she’s hoping the decorative set will also lure more people into playing,” said the agent.

For a moment Childe stared blankly into the distance. Then, he covered his face with his hands.

The worst failure of his career was going to be memorialized in the most overpriced, convoluted chess game known to humanity. And knowing Liyue, almost every household would get their hands on it. There would be a chess piece of him, and for years to come children would hold it up and go, who is this, and their parents would say it’s that evil Fatui Harbinger who was dumb enough to think he stood a chance. Well played, Lady Ningguang. She was promoting her game, bragging to Liyue about what she’d sacrificed for them, and cementing the Fatui as villains in the public consciousness, all in one go. He hoped word of this never got back to the other Harbingers. The fallout of his failure was bad enough without them taunting him about chess infamy. Dear sweet Tsaritsa, he hoped Teucer and his siblings would never discover it, either.

“Sir?” the agent ventured.

Childe dragged his hands down his face to look at her. “Yes?”

“Would you like us to take any actions, regarding…”

He looked around, trying to think of some way to prevent that disaster without making them out to be even bigger villains, when he caught sight of someone coming up the stairs.

“Yanfei. Hey. Yanfei.”

“Oh! Hello again,” said Yanfei. She glanced up at the next staircase—presumably toward wherever she was meeting her next client—but clearly decided she had enough time and detoured to meet him. “What’s up?”

“How much can I sue someone for non-consensual use of my name and likeness?” said Childe. 

Yanfei immediately knew what he was talking about.

“Sorry, Ningguang’s already got that covered,” she said. “All persons fictitious disclaimer, and all that. The pieces won’t be labeled beyond their position on the board, and the Fatui mask thing makes it even more of a gray area. I’ve seen your piece. Your face isn’t showing.”

“But the red hair and Harbinger mask would be?” Childe said flatly.

Yanfei shrugged. “Other people have red hair and other people could wear the mask. It’s super obvious to anyone who already knows, but she’s tiptoed around it enough that it’s not direct enough for the verdict you want, and let’s face it, the court isn’t going to want to help you anyway. Try to sue and they’ll double down on proving your whole role in everything. That can’t be good for your PR.”

“Of course they would,” Childe scoffed. He didn’t know what he expected. Yanfei had probably helped Ningguang figure out the legalities in the first place.

“It’s probably better to let it go,” said Yanfei. “If you push back on it, that just gives it attention. It’s better to let it die the same death all the other editions of Liyue Millennial have.”

“That doesn’t comfort me,” said Childe.

He squeezed his eyes shut, tried to force his brain to think, but his thoughts wouldn’t align in any useful way. He was mad. He was hurt. He felt like some dumb animal stuck down a hole scrabbling uselessly to get out while the whole of Liyue laughed at him. He hated feeling powerless like this.

How did the Tsaritsa and Signora expect this to turn out? he wondered, because how could there possibly have been another outcome? They’d specifically had Childe, the Vanguard, Mr. I’ll-directly-charge-Cryo-opponents-because-I-don’t-believe-in-deceit set out on a mission to kick Rex Lapis’ ass. No matter how well that went, Liyue wouldn’t have appreciated it. With Childe involved there was no way of avoiding recognition and backlash for the Fatui; if they’d wanted someone to “test” Liyue anonymously, there were ten other Harbingers more suited to the role. There must have been a next step to counter Childe’s presence, because while the Fatui weren’t afraid of being forceful, they were also big on backup plans and the first choice was always diplomacy. Making a real enemy of the Land of Commerce couldn’t be good. The Tsaritsa’s fight was against Celestia, not humans, but Liyue could easily lean on its trading partners and cause plenty of trouble for Snezhnaya before they ever reached the heavens— maybe even prevent the war entirely. There had to be a plan to manage that. So what was step two? Why hadn’t it happened yet? Why hadn’t Childe been cycled out now that his specialty was done with? Why was he forced to stay here, suffering and making everything worse?

Is this a punishment?

No. No, that was ridiculous. Maybe other Harbingers would take cheap shots without explanation, but not the Tsaritsa. If the Tsaritsa had a problem she’d look him in the eye and say it to his face. She knew that he’d bend over backward to set things right. There was no point to hidden resentment, especially not when it would damage more than just him.

It felt like punishment, though.

Everything in motion had been started without his consent and he couldn’t think of any ways to stop it. The more he thought the worse it was, like his head was one big echo chamber screaming failure, failure, failure—

“Notify the bank that I’ll be away for a while,” he said, standing up. “They’re already aware that I’m on leave, but they should still know that I’m going outside of the city, in case anything comes up.”

If he had to spend one more moment here in the harbor he was going to suffocate. No more Zhongli, no more Ningguang, no more reminders of any of this nonsense. He had a week off from bank work and he was going to relax now, damn it. 

“Yes, my lord,” the agent said with a bow.

“Enjoy the fresh air!” Yanfei said cheerily.

Childe did not say goodbye to her, which might’ve been petulant, but he felt that he was more than justified.

He set out from the city. He went past the Jade Chamber’s construction site, up into the rocky wilderness around Mt Tianheng. With the crowds nearby the Millelith had cleared out most of the monsters but there were still some hilichurls on the upper slopes. Childe vented his frustration on five small packs of them and a ruin grader, and was descending the mountain with a somewhat better sense of calm when he heard a familiar voice.

“Aiyah, did you really come out here so unprepared?”

Childe stopped. Grimaced. Braced himself and moved forward to investigate.

Past the sparse trees a little trail wound through the terrain. It looked like the sort of trail that might be used by an animal or a lone herbalist every few months, but now it was crowded with civilians. Childe recognized a few of them: definitely Jade Chamber contestants. They all seemed to be following little Qiqi from Bubu Pharmacy. Qiqi seemed almost unaware of the people behind her, much more preoccupied with picking herbs for her basket. Tagging along at the end of the line was Director Hu Tao of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, a bounce to her step.

“All the way out here in the wilderness, there’s no telling what could happen!” she sang. “Monster attacks, Treasure Hoarder ambushes, you might even be led off a cliff by an amnesiac zombie!” 

Qiqi raised her head and blinked slowly. “Zombie…?”

“That’s right!” Hu Tao trilled, rushing toward her with arms outstretched. “It’s best to seal you away now before that can come to pass—"

Qiqi wasn’t very expressive in face or voice, but her eyes narrowed and her little nose wrinkled in such clear disgust right now that Hu Tao stopped her charge to wheeze with laughter. 

“Miss Hu Tao, please,” said one of the contestants, looking majorly uncomfortable. “You promised to leave her alone, at least today…”

“I did! And you have no idea how much that pains me,” said Hu Tao. “But so much worse than that, I know that none of you have any plans for yourselves! Wouldn’t it be a load off your minds to know that you’ve prepared for all possibilities? Life is absolutely to be enjoyed, but death is a constant! You should pay just as much mind to that as anything else! I’ll even give you a discount: Jade Chamber special, twenty percent off funeral and consultant services—”

As she launched into her advertisement the others began to wilt.

“Why aren’t we trying to get away from her, again?” whispered one of the contestants.

“She has a vision. Just keep an eye on it,” replied another, and that voice… that was the man who’d asked for Zhongli’s help, earlier. “When I talked to Master Zhang in Hanfeng’s Ironmongers, he said the only reliable way to spot starsplinter iron is the glow of a vision.”

Wait, what? Starsplinter iron? What did starsplinter iron have to do with— Oh. Oh, no.

Childe stealthily followed their line. He ducked behind a large rock, and as they passed he whispered, “Why are we looking for starsplinter iron, again?”

Just as expected, the speakers were dumb enough to think this was asked by another contestant in the line.

“Because it’s part of the Wonder Core,” said the contestant. “Master Zhang confirmed he made the original ones, and he needs starsplinter iron and subrosium to make more. They’re supposed to be found somewhere here around Mount Tianheng.”

Starsplinter iron and subrosium? The extremely rare materials currently sitting in Childe’s apartment? All positive thoughts about his “secret admirer” evaporated. Had this been some kind of tactic to point more attention at Childe during the dumb contest? Had someone in the Qixing broken into the bank to cause trouble for the Fatui and rattle their sense of security? If it somehow had been a contestant trying to win his favor they would surely identify themselves now and demand the materials back.

“I’m surprised Mister Zhongli didn’t give you any more information about it. You said he recognized the ores, right?” said one of the contestants.

“He must have! He got very worried and evasive about them,” said the other. “All he’d say was that Master Zhang’s information was right. Then I blinked and he disappeared again. I never realized how fast he was until today.”

That was all the information Childe needed. He parted from the group without anyone’s notice. He backtracked and went south toward a pond, only to run into another group. He ducked fast against the rockface and what little vegetation could hide him. Atop one of the crumbling stone pillars stood Chongyun, looking dramatically over the waterfall and valley beneath with arms crossed, but all his drama was ruined by the embarrassed flush on his pale face.

“Are they still here?” he mumbled.

Xingqiu, standing on a more natural rock nearby, had a book up in front of his face to hide his smile. “They are.”

Chongyun glanced over his shoulder, spotted the civilians clustered on the grass twenty feet behind them, then quickly faced forward again and hunched his shoulders. “Is there really no way to convince them to leave?”

“Not in my experience,” said Xingqiu, far too amused. “I daresay even Master Childe’s had no more luck than you in escaping them…”

“But… why? Why are they even following?”

“Because none of them have visions, and they’re hoping you’ll accidentally show them where to find starsplinter iron while you’re trying to locate Shenhe. Either your vision will glow near it, or you’ll lead them right to where Shenhe, as the front runner, has found some of her own.”

Chongyun cringed still further. “I don’t want to cause trouble for Shenhe by leading them in.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that. I’m sure everyone following you has more respect than to interfere with you or Shenhe.” He aimed his smile at their audience and it became suddenly threatening; clearly if they didn’t respect their quarry enough to keep to themselves, they’d do it for simple self-preservation.

“We should expand our search,” Chongyun murmured. “If we turn west, then circle around—”

“An excellent idea, my liege,” said Xingqiu, and snapped his book shut. “Let us move on, then, and be sure we won’t miss her.”

Well, if they were going west, Childe was going south. He bypassed this second group, followed the southern spur of the mountain, and glided straight down from there. Surely if rocks were the next big thing, no one would be paying attention to gliders today. He took the time to scan the valley for any distractions or enemies. The biggest landmark was a dilapidated village. Clearly no one had lived there in a very long time, because the houses were falling apart, walls rotting and roofs having fallen in, with the grasses steadily overtaking stone terraces and foundations. Childe knew for a fact that Treasure Hoarders teemed in this area; debt collections had brought in several of the Fatui—usually to the tents and camps scattered further in, across more bridges and ponds—but the Treasure Hoarders’ patrols had always been wide, and with the Jade Chamber’s construction and gathering of so many foreign and/or easy marks come to gawk at it, they must be downright swarming.

Were they a terrible annoyance or a good distraction, today? Hm, decisions, decisions…

Childe touched down next to the waypoint. He stretched, inhaled deep… and faltered. Was that incense, all the way out here? He stepped closer to the edge of the ridge and spotted a completely intact tiled roof. It took a moment of mentally reviewing recent Lisha history before it clicked: this must be the temple for Pervases, the same Yaksha that Zhongli had been monologuing about earlier today. A local folklore specialist had been working on it almost completely alone. 

He’s done a good job, Childe decided, taking in the simple but dignified structure and the pristine courtyard around it. 

It must’ve taken a lot of work.

The Treasure Hoarders would likely see the little temple and its visitors as a tempting new target. Childe eyed the building, flexing his hands in and out of fists. Zhongli had given Pervases his name. Pervases liked Grilled Ticker Fish. That lone folklorist had sunk his entire savings into this temple.

“I’m just looking for a distraction,” Childe grumbled. “It’s just a coincidence.”

Whatever Pervases had been didn’t matter, and no one would be able to argue otherwise. It was nobody’s business if Childe started tracking signs of Treasure Hoarders with full intention of uprooting them from the area.

The longer he spent tracking, though, the more he realized he wasn’t the only one with this idea. The Treasure Hoarder camps had been raided. Coals were scattered from the fires, grass had been singed by elemental skills, tents were torn and supply crates smashed. Someone had hit them and hit them hard. Childe’s irritation faded for intrigue. Who had pounced on such a sheltered camp here, and where had they come from? Who had drawn blood in another camp and sent them into such a fright that the Treasure Hoarders abandoned their shovels and crossbows entirely? Who had struck so hard in another location that a boulder had been cleaved nearly in half? Childe hoped he could convince whoever it was to fight him once he caught up. Was it Shenhe? Ooh, he hoped so. This far from the harbor they should be able to get a few blows in without worrying about witnesses or collateral damage…

His thoughts stopped short as he spotted something at the bottom of a cliffside. It was subrosium. He knelt down and knocked on it, but it was no illusion: glimmer reminiscent of noctilucous jade, elemental aura reminiscent of Anemo. Ivanovich had said it was rare, but this chunk was just as sizable as any of the pieces in Childe’s apartment. He looked around for any clues and— there! There was more subrosium visible ahead, and more to his right. Surely if they could be found so close to the harbor it would’ve been easy for merchants and contestants to have marked them out already. He crept further, noting how more and more subrosium outcrops appeared, all dotted along the route of the other fighter. Finally Childe rounded a bend and spotted the source.

Among the five Guardian Yakshas only one remained; Xiao looked too young to have lived that chaos and bloodshed, but then again Adepti were weird and Childe had no room to judge. Xiao had his red-lined eyes fixed on a patch of foliage and moved his hands in slow, graceful movements as if to draw something up toward him. Elemental power intensified, Xiao’s presence merging with the ground, and then the glint of subrosium appeared in the foliage.

“Oho,” said Childe, “so you’re the one making all these rocks.”

Before he could take another breath he instinctively raised his hands, summoning Hydro blades to block the strike of a jade tipped spear. A black mask had covered Xiao’s face, Anemo-green light seething through the eyeholes and fanged mouth.

“You saw nothing, human,” Xiao spat.

Childe bared his teeth in a grin. “Oh, I’ve got perfectly good eyesight, Mister Adeptus! If you want me to forget something you’ll have to beat it out of my head.”

“That can be arranged.”

The spear wrenched, the block was undone, and the two of them clashed. An inexperienced fighter wouldn’t have been able to track them, and even veteran vision wielders would’ve had difficulty keeping up as they whirled over the slopes, Anemo and Hydro ripping through the vegetation. Childe may have had a reputation for strength, but in a fight all his skill hinged on speed and mobility. He had faster reaction time than any other Harbinger, was well-versed in fighting on all kinds of terrain, and he needed every second gained from that expertise in this fight. If Childe was fast, Xiao was speed incarnate. He didn’t need the same footholds, could turn and launch himself at impossible angles, powerful and unpredictable and Childe loved it. So this was what it was like to fight an Adeptus! No wonder he’d looked forward to it! He cackled with glee as their elements swirled. Xiao, on the other hand, was unamused.

“Do you think this is funny?” he hissed, and even when blocked, the blow from his spear rattled Childe’s arm all the way down to the bone. “Do you think the Adepti are here to entertain you? That we have nothing better to do than entertain the detritus of the polar seas?”

It was nothing new, nothing unexpected, but Childe had gone through a full day already of scorn and embarrassment and confusion, so Xiao’s words slid home into his heart like a poison. It was true. He was stupid Snezhnayan trash. The world could know it and he could embrace it. He felt his smile turn feral, rage and bloodlust seeping through.

“Don’t look down on the dregs, Yaksha,” he laughed. “We can still go down with our teeth in the winner’s throat!”

He shoved forward with a burst of Hydro energy. Xiao sidestepped almost faster than the eye could move, cutting through the water with Anemo and swerving toward his back. Childe pivoted to follow, let the blades melt into a polearm instead and whipped it with him, releasing his elemental burst with it. The Hydro energy detonated with force enough to flatten all the grass around them and send boulders rolling. It had been a good hit. Surely it would’ve landed a Riptide mark… but no. Xiao had fallen back. He stood on the one rock that hadn’t budged, the grass around him dry; he must’ve blocked Childe’s attack with an Anemo shield somehow. Adding insult to injury, he wasn’t even looking at Childe. His head had tipped up as if he were listening to something on the breeze.

“I don’t have time for this,” said Xiao, irritated. “I have a task to complete and a storm to monitor. Go back to the harbor and stay out of the way.”

“You’ll make time,” Childe hissed, pointing his polearm at him. “Get down here and fight, or I’ll go up to meet you.”

Xiao gave a derisive sniff and disappeared.

Childe fell back into defensive position, looking around to see where he’d gone. There was no sign of the Yaksha, not even a glimpse of elemental traces.

No.

Childe began to laugh again, without a touch of mirth.

“Did you run?” he asked the empty clearing. “The Conqueror of Demons, throwing a fight with a mortal? Where’s that Adeptus pride, Alatus?” The air remained quiet. Childe kept looking, rage building in his chest. “You started this! Come back and end it! Coward!”

Xiao did not respond or return. With a snarl, Childe threw his polearm down; the water burst in another riptide, cutting deep into the earth and rock. The abandoned subrosium clattered out of its place in the cliffside. Childe paid it no attention. He stormed back toward the central portion of the abandoned village, hoping some Treasure Hoarders were still there to vent his frustrations on.

This was a mistake.

He was mad enough when he approached that he didn’t notice anyone else until it was too late. He was in the thick of the village, rounding a corner—there had been a Treasure Hoarder banner over here earlier, perfect—only to find a gaggle of civilians rooting through the Hoarders’ bags.

“Are you really going to steal from them? Isn’t that dangerous?”

“The Treasure Hoarders get everywhere, surely if anyone’s seen starsplinter iron or subrosium it’s them—"

Childe turned right back around and sped back the way he’d come, only to hear more voices in that direction. Shit. Alternate plan: he was going to pick a house! Any house! And he was going to hide in it until everyone went away! Great plan!

It was not such a great plan.

He walked into one of the larger houses near the cliffside and found someone already there. Not just anyone, either. It was famed opera singer Yun Jin; he’d been to enough of her shows to recognize that outfit anywhere. She happened to be kneeling on the ground, and looked up at him with tears in her eyes.

This was just about the worst thing that could happen to him right now. If anyone stumbled across this scene—murderous Harbinger, crying darling of Liyue Harbor—it wouldn’t matter how greedy the Jade Chamber contestants were or how much mora he had, he’d be violently driven out of Liyue. Northland Bank sunk. Fatui reputation never to be salvaged. Shit. He reeled in his irritation as much as possible and pasted on a smile again.

“Hey,” he said, incredibly awkwardly. “Yun Jin… right?”

“Yes,” Yun Jin said shakily. “Please excuse me, Master Diplomat. I’m sorry, this is not quite… dignified of me.”

Another wave of sadness hit her, and her attempt at normalcy crumbled. She bowed her head and turned away quickly, dabbing at her eyes. She was clearly miserable despite trying to keep appearances, as if she might be scolded if her makeup smudged… but that was the case, wasn’t it? She was famous, with fans and haters alike desperate to pounce on any perceived weaknesses, and here she was cornered by an influential and likely hostile foreigner. This was probably the worst thing that could’ve happened for her, too. They were two peas in a messed-up pod. Childe sighed and knelt to be on her level.

“Are you hurt at all? Lost, or something?”

She gave a wet, broken laugh. “No, I’m fine. I just… I’ve been cruel and foolish, and I’m not the one hurt, so I shouldn’t even be crying, I’m just… frustrated.”

Wow. Huh. That was pretty candid and self-critical. If that Steambird fraud Yanfei mentioned had been here, he’d have a field day.

“You must be really frustrated if you’re admitting that to me,” said Childe. Yun Jin flushed further with shame and mentally he smacked himself. “Look, as an expert in cruel foolishness and hurting other people, I’m sure whatever you did isn’t that bad. What happened, exactly?”

Yun Jin sniffled a little but turned to face him better.

“I’ve… seen you in the audience sometimes,” she murmured. “I don’t know how dedicated you are to the opera scene, but had you heard of the new performance I’d planned to debut soon?”

Childe’s nose wrinkled in annoyance. “The Divine Damsel of Devastation?”

She got even gloomier at the mention of the title. “That’s the one. I was very excited about it until today. I even entered the Jade Chamber contest hoping Ningguang might be able to tell me the best location to have it premiere, and today I was able to join with the Traveler, Captain Beidou, and Miss Shenhe… I looked at them for inspiration for my portrayal of the Divine Damsel. Do… Do you know the storyline?”

“I heard it was about a girl adopted by the Adepti,” Childe said slowly.

She nodded. “The script my father wrote… it was based on the stories we’d heard around this area. The story goes that there was an exorcist couple very much in love, whose happiness was bolstered by their beloved young daughter. But that happiness was not to last. The wife grew ill and died. While the husband grieved, an evil god appeared and demanded the village children as sacrifices. Everyone else was too afraid to confront it, but this girl bravely stepped forward with her mother’s exorcist blade. She fought the evil god, and with its defeat her village was saved. The Adepti were so impressed with her, they took her into Jueyun Karst, bound her in red rope to curb her prophecy of destruction, and taught her in their arts. It seemed like a story of triumph to me. And when I boasted about it…When I said how I admired the girl’s bravery, Shenhe said she hadn’t been brave at all. That she was just scared. And— And of course she was!”

The tears began afresh. Yun Jin covered her eyes with one hand, the other laid on a tattered book in her lap.

“Shenhe herself is the Divine Damsel, and the story is a tragedy, not a triumph! She’d been evasive, but— I found her father’s journal here. This was the village. And the evil god didn’t happen upon them, it was summoned by her father! He’d delved into evil arts in the hope of bringing his wife back from the dead. He blamed Shenhe for all the bad things happening, and— And he gave her to the evil god. She didn’t volunteer. She was abandoned. She wasn’t even meant to have the exorcist blade. She was supposed to be devoured. Of course she was scared! Of course she would be— I’d looked at that opera with naïve detachment! I never considered how the truth might go. It was just a story. I acted all-knowing and blasé to Shenhe, when she’d actually lived it. I disregarded and belittled her pain. I’m ashamed of myself.”

Meanwhile Childe’s brain was buzzing. “Her father?”

“Yes,” said Shenhe. “In this journal he rambled for days, anticipating when she might die for his goals to be realized…”

“No,” said Childe. He stood and started to pace. “No, it can’t have bene her father. It can’t be right.”

 “It doesn’t seem true, does it?” said Yun Jin. “How could he have thrown her away, if he’d ever claimed to love her before—”

Childe’s ears were ringing harder. There was a distinct memory in his head of a man’s hand wrapped around a much smaller wrist, stumbling through snow, a Fatui banner coming closer.

“No,” he said again, moving faster, sharper. “That can’t—”

“I know, it seems far too cruel,” said Yun Jin.

“It’s too similar,” Childe snapped. He froze as soon as he realized he said it.

Yun Jin looked up at him, startled. “…Similar? What do you—”

Childe was saved from massive awkwardness by the sound of shouting outside.

“Aiyah!  Watch where you’re going, little zombie! Actually don’t, if you die for real this time I can finally bury you—”

“Aah! Qiqi slipped!”

“Quick, catch her—”

“Now all of you are falling, too!”

A chorus of wails rapidly approached the building; apparently Qiqi’s group had failed to properly navigate the back slope, and went flailing and rolling down the incline and directly into the old house. The beams groaned and swayed on impact.

“Ah, shit,” said Childe.

He seized Yun Jin by the arm and towed her out the door before the whole thing collapsed in on itself.

“Oh, goodness!” said Yun Jin, free hand steadying her hat. “That could’ve been bad.”

There was a groaning heap of people on the other side of the wreckage. Hu Tao skipped down the slope as nimbly as a deer and called, “Who needs coffins? Sale price is still valid!”

Childe and Yun Jin shared a glance. They were by no means familiar with each other, but in that eye contact they had a very clear understanding: Let’s escape before she sees us. And they did. They hightailed it further into the village. Childe caught sight of blue and white and quickly changed direction again, Yun Jin hot on his heels.

(“My liege, did you see—Chongyun. Chongyun, this way. Did you see Miss Yun Jin of all people pass by?” “Why would Yun Jin be out here?” “Well, she is one of the highest scorers after the Sunset Vermillionite stage of the competition.”)

He veered again to avoid stragglers from the competition groups.

(“Look! Is that the Snezhnayan diplomat? We really are on the right trail!”)

Again to avoid what might’ve been a very confused Treasure Hoarder.

(“Aaaahhh, mercy, mercy, I swear I’m not up to anything suspicious!”)

Again, and this time they broke out into the grassy expanse that might’ve been a central plaza. This time they bumped straight into the Traveler.

“Whoa!” cried Paimon, wheeling through the air as if they’d crashed. “Childe? Again? Where do you keep coming from?”

“That’s what I’d like to ask you,” Childe said sweetly. “You know if you want a rematch you can just ask me. The stalking’s not necessary.”

He hoped she’d take him up on that. He really needed some kind of outlet for all the rage. Unfortunately Lumine looked at him without any passion whatsoever and said, “We’re just here for the contest.”

“Oh! And you found Yun Jin!” said Paimon, righting her course to zoom closer to the opera star. “Did you have any luck? Find anything good?”

“I’m afraid I haven’t seen any starsplinter iron. As for any other finds…” Her grip tightened on the tattered journal. “I found the reference material I’d wanted, but it’s far from what I’d hoped for.”

“Give it here! Give it here! Paimon wants to see it!” said Paimon, making grabby motions.

With some hesitation, Yun Jin handed the book over. Lumine read through it with Paimon hovering over her shoulder. With every line, Lumine’s brow furrowed further and Paimon looked more distraught. Childe glanced around for a convenient escape route, but there were too many other people moving through the houses. If he made a run for it he might end up with an annoying following. He stayed put instead, hoping the two famous people next to him would be enough to distract anyone who’d spotted him.

“This is horrible!” wailed Paimon, when they’d finished. “Poor Shenhe!”

“That’s… a lot,” said Lumine, returning the notebook. “It explains the cryptic wording Cloud Retainer was using, too. Where did you find this?”

“Up in the houses,” said Yun Jin. “If there was anything else I didn’t see it, but then again the roof fell in.”

“Oh, so that’s what that noise was,” said Lumine, at the same time Paimon yelped, “What? Did you get hurt at all?”

“No. Master Childe here pulled me out before any harm could come to me,” said Yun Jin.

Lumine and Paimon sent Childe suspicious looks.

“What?” he said. “You think I can’t selflessly rescue someone?”

“Why were you even there?” asked Lumine. “I thought you were hiding out in tea houses back in the harbor.”

“No comment,” said Childe.

“Traveler, you know Shenhe better than I do,” said Yun Jin. “Should we give her this book? It’s truly painful to read, but leaving it here risks other, less friendly people finding it. If it were me, I’d be uncomfortable with strangers knowing such information about me.”

Lumine pondered a moment, then nodded. “Whatever happens with it, it should be her decision. Where is she, anyway? I could’ve sworn we left her here with that Uncle Mingjun person…”

“She’s over there!” said Paimon, pointing.

Climbing up the terrace toward them were Shenhe and an old man with grayed hair. They appeared to be in deep discussion, unaware or maybe unbothered by the fact that the little group could hear them.

“One year while I was visiting I heard a story about a white-haired Adeptus, but I never imagined it was you,” the old man—Mingjun—was saying. “I was a close friend of your father’s. I could’ve stopped him from performing the summoning ritual. I had plenty of chances, but… I couldn’t bring myself to stand up to him. I just let things happen, let it escalate, and… we all know how that story ended. I bring flowers back here every year, and each time I wish I had a chance to apologize to you.”

But while Mingjun’s face and shoulders were heavy with grief, Shenhe looked as impassive and at ease as if he were commenting on the wildflowers.

“Apologize for what?” she said.

Mingjun looked at her in surprise. “For failing you, of course. I should have stopped him. I regret it every day—”

But Shenhe only shrugged. “If you’d stopped him, he’d only have found another way. There’s nothing he wouldn’t have done for his true love. Nothing.”

Mingjun stopped walking. Shenhe kept on for a few strides, nearly level with the group before realizing he wasn’t next to her anymore. She paused and turned to face him, expression stuck in a dull emptiness that clearly unnerved him.

“Do you still… hate him?” Mingjun murmured.

Shenhe blinked. Her head tipped slowly to the side and she said, “If you ask me about the past, if I hate my father or not… the truth is, I feel nothing at all.”

“Nothing?” he said, surprised.

“Nothing.”

Even Lumine, Paimon, and Yun Jin were perplexed by the answer; they glanced at each other, and Yun Jin’s grip tightened on the book. Ugh, this was awkward. Childe cast around again for escape, but no, the awkwardness seemed to have drawn in even more people. He distinctly saw Xingqiu and Chongyun peering around one of the buildings, looking for an opportunity to butt into the group as well. Maybe if they did, Childe would have enough of an opening to get away…

“If you don’t hate him, is it possible that you’re looking to go home?” asked Mingjun. “Your father may have passed away, but you have other relatives still living nearby in the harbor. The exorcist clan that your mother was born into, for example. I’m sure they would open their doors to you.”

At this angle Mingjun couldn’t possibly see Chongyun lurking, but that may as well have been a cue. Chongyun brightened, stepping out of his hiding place—

“Why would I want to do that?” asked Shenhe.

Chongyun faltered.

“Isn’t that why you came down from the mountain?” said Mingjun. “I’d heard that you went into the harbor and ate at the restaurants. Why would you do that if you didn’t intend to return to human society?”

“To see what I might be missing,” said Shenhe. “It wasn’t much.”

“Really?”

“Is that so surprising? It is true, I visited Liyue Harbor, but none of the sights, food, or people I witnessed there incentivized me to stay.”

“Not even family?” Mingjun checked.

“That family means nothing to me,” said Shenhe.

All the bravery evaporated. Chongyun curled in on himself and slid back into the shadows as quiet and unnoticed as a ghost. Rage and humiliation had been spitting in Childe’s chest all day, but seeing Chongyun’s retreat sent it out of control.

Childe had tried to go home.

The Steambird had published the predictions of a seer with a one hundred percent accuracy rating, and it told him it’s reciprocated. He’d been so homesick. Reading that had stoked that fire in his chest, and he’d practically flown from Zapolyarny Palace back to Morepesok. He dared to hope that his dreams might become real. He wondered if his family would smile to see him. If they would embrace him. If they’d missed him even an inkling as much as he’d missed them. He arrived while his younger siblings were in school, and in retrospect this was a blessing. He never made it past the door. Even now he felt as if his father’s voice were thundering around his ears, Don’t come back, don’t you ever come back—

If in some impossible future it was Teucer lingering behind a building, fully aware of his faults but still desperate to connect, Childe would’ve wept for joy. But no. It was not. It was Chongyun’s pale hair here now, and Shenhe standing at ease as if she didn’t have a care in the world.

But Childe wished—

He wished, he wished—

“Did you even try?” he snapped.

Everyone looked at him in surprise.

Shenhe’s eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about you,” Childe spat. “Don’t think I haven’t heard about you, Shenhe. The first time you came down out of the mountains you stood in a village for ten minutes without speaking to anyone and then turned right back around. Sure, this time you reached Liyue Harbor, but you walked through it once, barely took a bite out of any food ordered, and threatened the only civilians who dared make conversation with you. Nothing incentivized you to stay? Don’t make me laugh! You were hostile to the very idea from the start! So what’s the truth?” He stepped toward her, teeth bared. “Did your master get tired of you? Or is this just some sick obligation?”

“H-hey!” said Paimon. “What is this— Why are you—”

“What does it matter to you?” said Shenhe.

“It’s annoying as hell when people whine about the work they didn’t put in,” said Childe. “If you came to the harbor to experience humanity, then commit to it! Eat the damn food, stop for a damn second to appreciate the scenery, and get some Archons-damned context!”

“That’s ironic, coming from you,” Shenhe said with a glower.

Being raised by the Adepti she’d know all about the Osial incident. Of course it was hypocritical for the man who’d tried to destroy the city to demand she appreciate it, but Childe was beyond caring.

“If you’re not going to treat it seriously, don’t come down at all!” he said. “Do you even know what your arrival meant to some people? Do you know how badly that family you don’t give a shit about wants to talk to you? Do you have any idea what some people would give to be in your place right now?”

“That’s irrelevant,” said Shenhe.

And she was still unmoved, and a lifetime of jealousy was screeching from his heart, and— and he lost some of his control. When Childe took another step, Electro crackled over his skin from the delusion, his fingers curled like claws, and the snarl of the Foul Legacy laced his voice as he screamed, “Why do you get this when you don’t even care?”

It wasn’t properly weaponized, but with those words a pulse of heavy, invisible elemental power rushed over them, too. They all staggered. Mingjun lost balance entirely. Lumine shifted back into a fighting stance even while her expression was nothing but confusion. Shenhe took barely a step back but studied him as if she hadn’t actually looked at him before. Worst of all Yun Jin’s expression showed dawning understanding, and he could feel more eyes on his back.

Shit.

Losing his cool in front of an audience was humiliating, but for such a personal reason on top of that…

“What are you even talking about?” cried Paimon, who’d never been very quick on the uptake. “Shehne’s been through so much! You’re not involved, so you’ve got no right to judge her! Have some humility and apologize!”

“You’re right,” Childe seethed through a rictus grin. “I’m not involved.”

He turned (spotting contestants diving out of sight behind dilapidated houses), and left.

Paimon spluttered. “What— Hey! Hey, where are you going? Get back here and say you’re sorry!” Lumine murmured something and Paimon gave a squeal of rage. “What does that matter? Childe! Stop acting so childish!”

Childe didn’t look back. He stormed out of the village, scowling at subrosium outcrops that were much closer than they’d been before. No one moved to stop him. He almost wished they would. He wanted to utterly destroy something. He got his wish quickly, clearing out an Abyss mage and Mitachurl camp on one of the branching roads toward the Chasm. The fact that it was a Hydro Abyss mage gave him a little more to vent his frustration on, but it was still far too soon before he was standing in the empty camp, monster corpses fading to ash and Hydro blades pulsing under his hands with the vicious beat of his bloodthirsty heart.

He wanted to howl.

He wanted to tear his surroundings apart.

He wanted to dig into his Foul Legacy and show all those idiots what real devastation looked like.

But he was rational enough to know that wouldn’t help anything.

He took a deep breath. Held tight to the anger. Breathed out, and let it go. The earth under his feet softly resonated Geo. He closed his eyes and tried to match that calm. It didn’t fully work. He would never be part of Liyue. He wasn’t Geo. The simmering rage hadn’t left since Osial. He flexed his fingers, stretched them out, and dismissed his power. He forced a smile to his face again and it didn’t feel so horrible.

“Well,” he said brightly to himself, “there’s no sense ignoring a perfectly good cooking fire!”

He kicked stray Hilichurl masks into a pile, stoked the fire, and settled in. He was pretty sure he had supplies for something. He was checking his bag when he spotted movement. Xingqiu and Chongyun were approaching the decimated camp. They came slowly, cautiously. Childe met Xingqiu’s gaze. Xingqiu cocked his head, considering, before summoning his own smile.

“Well, if it isn’t Master Childe!” he called. “Please excuse us, my liege, but we’ve only just escaped all of our civilian pursuers and were hoping for a peaceful meal with rational company. Might we join you?”

Great. Just great. Childe took another calming breath and said, “Sure, but you’ll have to gather your own food. I didn’t come out here expecting to support other people today.”

“We brought more than enough,” Chongyun said quickly. He seemed to have perked up a little at Childe’s response.

“We packed extra just in case we ran into some of our friends. We weren’t sure who else may have been begged into wandering around as a starsplinter iron beacon,” Xingqiu explained. “We’d be more than willing to give one of the dinners to you if you’ll allow us to join you.”

“Didn’t I already say you could sit down?” said Childe, genuinely a little happier at the idea of a decent meal.

The two teenagers sat down, not exactly close but nowhere near far enough away to show that they had any sense. They’d been carrying around five little boxed meals, and as Xingqiu passed them out he chatted amiably: "Truly it was a test of mettle, carrying these around. One could hardly concentrate on what we were doing when the aroma of such good food was constantly nearby. Even worse, we weren’t the only ones tempted!”

“Those slimes did seem hungry,” said Chongyun.

“And our uninvited followers! If we had let our guard down even for a moment I’m sure one of them would have robbed us,” said Xingqiu. “The allure of Wanmin Restaurant’s dishes is really—”

“No,” Chongyun butted in. Xingqiu had attempted to give him one of the boxes, but he pushed it away with one hand. “Not this one.”

“Whatever do you mean, dear Chongyun?” Xingqiu said innocently.

“This one is spicy. Give me a different one,” said Chongyun.

“Why, dear Chongyun, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I know you.” Chongyun’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “You’re giving me the spiciest dish because you think it’ll be funny. You always do. I’m not falling for it.”

“I don’t always do that—”

“You do it enough. Give me a different one.”

Xingqiu shrugged as if to say, your loss, and switched out for another box. He handed the original to Childe, who happily opened it to find a noodle dish he didn’t recognize.

“This… isn’t an experimental dish, right?” he asked. It would be just his luck for Xiangling to have forced experiments on taste testers who couldn’t escape them.

“No, it’s something she’s worked through already. I believe it will be added to Wanmin’s menu once they set up a steady supply for the ingredients,” said Xingqiu.

“Oh. Nice.”

Childe was digging through his bag for chopsticks when he heard a choking noise. Chongyun had taken a bite of his own food and immediately gone red. He flung the box away like it might be poisoned, whipped out a popsicle and crunched it down in record speed.

“You tricked me!” he cried.

“I did not,” said Xingqiu, but his smile showed zero remorse. “I tried to give you your bland noodles, but no, you chose to ignore my good intentions.”

“You did that on purpose,” said Chongyun.

Xingqiu laid a dramatic hand over his chest. “Your suspicion is very hurtful.”

They kept on bickering, an easy and well-practiced back-and-forth that continued uninterrupted even as Xingqiu handed over a new, less offensive box of food and poured each of them cups of tea. Childe didn’t say a word in this argument, but he was still included; both teenagers would punctuate their statements with commiserating looks at him as if he were on their side specifically. It was pretty amusing. He leaned back with full intention of enjoying the entertainment.

Fishing up noodles with chopsticks wasn’t exactly easy but two years in Liyue would’ve forced anyone into competence. Childe thought he was doing pretty well today, but any pride in that was crushed quickly. Xingqiu was doing one of those can-you-believe-this glances at him, only for his eyes to go suddenly wide. He choked on his tea and set it aside quickly.

“My liege,” he said with false calm. “My liege, what are those?”

Childe looked down uncertainly. It couldn’t be the Wanmin noodles, so… “Chopsticks?”

“Chopsticks,” Xingqiu scoffed. “Chongyun, look at this.”

“Look, I know I’m bad at using them, but you don’t have to rub it in,” said Childe.

Chongyun glanced up from his own food and did a double take. “Oh! Congratulations, Master Childe.”

Weirder than the word choice, he seemed very sincere.

“What?” said Childe.

“The chopsticks,” said Chongyun.

“I… am holding them much better than I was before, but that’s no reason for congratulations,” said Childe.

Chongyun’s brow knit in confusion. “But… the design?”

“He doesn’t know.” Xingqiu pressed a hand against his face before summoning his customer service expression. “My liege, where did you get those fine chopsticks? Did they perhaps catch your eye in one of the shops? Were you so enamored with the design that you thought nothing of selecting a dragon and phoenix set?”

“I wasn’t the one who picked them out,” said Childe, bemused. “That was Zhongli.”

The teenagers sent each other wide-eyed looks. “Mister Zhongli?”

“Yeah, he said he hoped I’d practice with them,” said Childe.

“Back up a moment. Mister Zhongli bought you those chopsticks?” said Xingqiu.

“Not really,” said Childe, shrugging. “He picked them out, but I paid for them.”

“And you paid for them!” Xingqiu looked up at the sky as if begging Celestia for assistance.

Childe didn’t know what was so important about a set of chopsticks. Maybe it was linked to the astronomical price he’d paid for them. He hadn’t really cared at the time because Zhongli looked so pleased about it.

“But it’s Mister Zhongli,” said Chongyun, looking between the two of them with trepidation. “He’s a traditionalist. There’s no way he’d select that design without being intimately aware of the connotations—”

“What connotations?” said Childe.

“Dragons and phoenixes on their own are powerful symbols in Liyue, but when paired together they have a specific interpretation,” said Xingqiu. “They represent marital bliss.”

“Wait, what,” said Childe.

“In Ancient Liyue such chopsticks were considered part of a dowry,” said Xingqiu.

“What,” said Childe again.

“A more modern, if less romantic, interpretation is simply perfect unity and prosperity,” Xingqiu continued. “I’ve seen them used with business contacts, but it’s rare since the older interpretation is so widely known.”

“What,” said Childe.

“Would Mister Zhongli really make Master Childe pay for his own courting gift, though?” said Chongyun.

“Have you ever known Mister Zhongli to have a mora in his possession?” said Xingqiu.

“Ah, yes, that might explain…”

“Shameless, really…”

“Wait,” said Childe, brandishing the offending chopsticks, “then what do these mean?”

“If you were a character in a novel, I’d say you’ve gotten engaged without realizing it,” said Xingqiu. “Reality is a much messier business, though. Implications cannot be denied, but that is all they are. Only Mister Zhongli could tell you his true intentions.”

Childe gaped at him.

Engaged?

No. There was no way. Zhongli and courting gifts? Ha! If Zhongli was ever attracted to someone, he’d probably never shut up about them. He talked so much about everything already; if the fragile nature of violetgrass could prompt a lecture, surely real attraction would spark an epic. Childe had never gotten any indication of that when they’d spent time together. Sure, there had been… moments. Times when Zhongli looked at him a certain way, or when he paid certain attention to things Childe was saying, or if he stood at a certain closeness, that made it feel like he cared and the farce didn’t exist at all. But Childe’s own impressions were unreliable. He’d wanted to be special in Zhongli’s eyes, even when he’d thought the man was mortal. He’d always craved the impossible. If even his family, who might’ve had the obligation of blood ties, couldn’t stand to be near him, why would anyone else? Why would an Archon, an Adeptus who had lived six thousand years and seen the downfalls and rises of civilizations, who could trace back the lineage of any of his people off the top of his head, who won the hearts of everyone he spoke with in any disguise… what could he possibly gain from Childe that hadn’t already been completed in the contract? Even friendship was laughable. Marital bliss? What a joke.

If you do wish to speak with me in the future, you may find me at Wangsheng Funeral Parlor.

Childe would not be visiting the funeral parlor. There was not any kind of hope in his chest.

It was far more likely that the chopsticks had been for business after all. They were partners in the contract, weren’t they? It seemed overly cruel, though, to have chosen such a strong sign of connection to trick Childe into doing his job.

“What kind of novels are you reading?” Childe scoffed, turning back to his food. “Accidental engagements and all…”

“The Yae Publishing House sells my book in Inazuma, and they’re always keen on getting their authors to review each other,” said Xingqiu. “They keep sending me free copies, so I’ve read quite the wide range of subjects.”

“But you have to keep them hidden from your father,” Chongyun said slyly.

Xingqiu went a little pink. “Pretty Please, Kitsune Guuji is nowhere near as scandalous as my brother seems to think. The way he reacted when he saw Xu carrying a copy, you’d think it was another genre entirely.”

“Wasn’t there another one with a really ridiculous name? I’m sure I heard one of the other bank workers talking about it,” said Childe. “Uh, something about rebirths… The Good Thing About Being Reincarnated As A Hilichurl Is That I Only Need To Eat Sunsettias To Become Stronger?”

“That one was compelling but not particularly well written,” said Xingqiu.

“Didn’t they send you another strange one?” said Chongyun. “That one from last week?”

“Ah, yes,” said Xingqiu. “Took A Trip To Liyue, Tour Guide Turned Out To Be Rex Lapis.”

Childe choked on his noodles. “W-what?”

“Rebirths into great roles and accidental brushes with the divine are big sellers in Inazuma,” said Xingqiu, as if that book title hadn’t been a very real situation. “Shogun Almighty: Reborn As Raiden With Unlimited Power is one of their most popular titles, and it doesn’t take a genius to know that Pretty Please, Kitsune Guuji is heavily based on Yae Miko herself. For this Tour Guide novel I can only assume that the author visited Liyue, happened upon some of the titles in Wanwen Bookhouse, and let their imagination run away with it. The information about locations, food, and Rex Lapis’ rumored appearance are all spot on, and the intereactions scream of influence from Rex Incognito, but the writing style is, ah, amateurish at best.”

“Their details aren’t that accurate,” said Chongyun. “Didn’t they think that Mister Zhongli was Rex Lapis?”

“They what?” said Childe, horrified.

 He hadn’t completely trashed his reputation and sanity just for all his work to be more of a failure than before. If Zhongli’s retirement was ruined, all this suffering would be for nothing.

“I believe it’s far more a lack of imagination than a real belief,” said Xingqiu. “The plot draws on previous works from Liyue and stories of the Adepti, and with Rex Lapis being such a central character I think the author wanted some kind of mold for him. They must have happened across Mister Zhongli and decided that someone with such knowledge, obvious tributes to the Prime Adeptus in appearance, and a Geo vision, had to be the corresponding Archon. So, they wrote Rex Lapis as highly intelligent but eternally broke. Quite foolish of them, I think.”

“Rex Lapis made mora, it would’ve been impossible for him to be broke. Besides, he wouldn’t have walked around Liyue Harbor wearing his own symbol if he wasn’t going to specifically make himself known,” said Chongyun. “That’s why he’s Rex Incognito and not Rex Obvious.”

Childe gave a choked laugh. “Zhongli really is too conspicuous to be an Archon, huh?”

Thank goodness Childe wasn’t the only one who’d thought this way. All of Liyue had taken a look at the ostentatious appearance, said “yeah right,” and moved on with their lives. Had Zhongli done that on purpose? Was all of this some kind of reverse psychology?

“There’s also the fact of Rex Lapis having died at the Rite of Descension,” said Xingqiu, smile dimming for a moment. “Rex Lapis is gone but Mister Zhongli is still reliably present and mora-less. Now that Hu Tao seems finished sending him off on strange retrieval missions, I think I’ll give him that book. I think he’ll find it amusing.”

“I think he’s going to find at least twelve different things wrong with the research and send an overly long letter to Yae Publishing House to correct them,” said Childe.

“That’s exactly why I think he’ll find it entertaining,” said Xingqiu.

The conversation meandered on, thankfully away from Zhongli and chopsticks and into more books. Clearly Xingqiu leaned toward martial arts novels, but he would read just about anything he got his hands on. Chongyun, raised with an exorcist clan’s full library of supernatural abilities, bestiaries, and usually-true recounting of legends, had a little bit of trouble reading fiction. His suspension of disbelief was completely nil, which led him to chasing imaginary ghosts all across Liyue and spluttering with rage at the audacity of villains who’d never existed. Childe hadn’t read a lot of books recently but if anything had survived of poor little Ajax after the Abyss, it was that he loved stories. He hung on their every word as they discussed plots of their favorite books, and promised to trade a few of the Snezhnayan titles on his shelves for some of Xingqiu’s recommendations at a later time.

Partway through the discussion, he realized that all that anger that had been building up over the day had dissipated. It wasn’t gone entirely, of course, but he found himself genuinely relaxed. It was nice.

By this time it was settling into sunset, that radiant hour where the sky went orange-gold in a way that made lanterns and golden leaves almost sear the eye in their brilliance, the whole of Liyue impossibly vibrant just before the onset of dark. The brightness made it very easy to spot the small figure trudging up the slope toward them.

“Is that Qiqi?” asked Chongyun, squinting.

It was. Qiqi had lost her civilian followers and was walking with her eyes fixed on the ground. She kept walking all the way up to them, and only stopped when the fire entered her line of sight. She stopped. Puzzled. Looked up.

“Oh,” she said slowly, blankly. “People.”

“Hello, Miss Qiqi,” said Xingqiu. “What brings you here?”

“Qiqi is… Qiqi is…” She paused, then took out her little notebook. She flipped its pages to the most recent list and recited, “Qiqi is… gathering herbs for Bubu Pharmacy. Qiqi must gather… thirty mint plants. It… is a rush order. Qiqi must not… be interrupted. Please go away.”

Childe leaned to the side to get a better view of her basket. “It looks like you might have thirty mints already.”

She took another few seconds to absorb his words, then took off her basket and began to count. She wasn’t fast in anything, but they were all well aware of this and waited patiently as she counted out her load.

“Thirty-six mint plants,” she said at last. “Qiqi is done. Qiqi will… be going now.” She donned the basket again, turned back around, and blinked at the landscape. “Qiqi… doesn’t remember how to get back to the pharmacy.”

Qiqi tended not to stray far from the harbor, or if she did it was usually in the company of other coworkers. If she was coming out this far alone, Bubu Pharmacy must be spread thinner than anticipated. Maybe they’d already gathered all the nearby plants and/or hoped that the civilian followers would be decent enough to bring the little zombie back home. Rush orders for mint plants… Surely it had to do with the Qixing’s large medical supply order.

“Well, it wouldn’t be right to leave you when you don’t know where you are,” said Childe. “Would you like an escort back to Liyue Harbor? I’d be glad to help guide you and remove any, ah, obstacles from your path.”

“Chongyun and I will also be honored to assist you!” said Xingqiu. This could have been due to his obsession with chivalry and might’ve been due to wariness of Childe’s wording. Probably both.

Qiqi studied her notebook a little longer as if to confirm escorts weren’t against any of her rules, then said, “Okay.”

They packed up what remained of the food, doused the fire, and set out back toward the harbor. Matching Qiqi’s pace meant this took a while, and soon night was falling around them. They chatted as they went, with the conversation straying toward tales of how certain features of the landscape came into being. Childe had heard plenty of such stories—the Adeptus Skybracer’s antlers propping up Mt. Tianheng and his blood becoming the Bishui River for example—but unfortunately tonight they strayed toward more recent changes to the topography.

“Now, I wonder what could have made this,” said Xingqiu, as they passed a cliffside and series of massive boulders irreversibly scarred. “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen this kind of effect. Do you think it’s the work of an Adeptus?”

It had been the work of an Adeptus and an irritable Harbinger earlier in the day, yes.

Childe was trying to quickly think of an excuse that wouldn’t tie him to the scene when Qiqi said, “Surely… this is a sign of the… Cocogoat.”

Childe choked. He pressed a hand over his mouth to keep quiet.

“The what?” said Chongyun.

“Cocogoat,” said Qiqi. “Legendary… Adeptibeast.”

“Ah,” said Xingqiu, hiding his own smile. “Have you been hunting for that majestic creature, Miss Qiqi?”

Chongyun’s head swiveled fast from one to the other, eyes bright in intrigue. “Legendary? Majestic? What is this mighty Cocogoat? I’ve never heard of it.”

Childe clapped both hands over his face now to mask the snickering.

“A truly mighty beast! I’m surprised you hadn’t known about it, dear Chongyun,” said Xingqiu.

By how eagerly Chongyun leaned in, it was no wonder he repeatedly fell so easily for fake hauntings and spicy food in disguise. “Tell me!”

“What it looks like?” said Qiqi.

“Yes! Yes, please!”

“Ah. Don’t know,” said Qiqi.

“You… don’t know?” said Chongyun.

Qiqi shook her head. “Where to find it… don’t know either. Where it came from… also don’t know.”

Childe had to stop walking. He was full-body shaking, tears in his eyes as he fought to keep from making a sound.

Chongyun was nonplussed. “But if you don’t know what manner of beast it is, why would you be looking for it?”

“Cocogoat milk is tasty,” Qiqi replied. “Much better… than regular goat milk. Only… an Adeptibeast could make such tasty milk.”

“I’ve never heard of cocogoat milk,” said Chongyun, still lost. “Does it have special properties?”

“Just very tasty,” said Qiqi. “Has special name. It’s… coconut milk.”

At the expression on Chongyun’s face both Childe and Xingqiu burst out laughing.

“What— It’s not funny!” said Chongyun. “Stop laughing!”

“Cocogoat! You fell for the cocogoat!” Childe howled.

“My dear Chongyun, it’s hilarious,” said Xingqiu.

Qiqi frowned up at them. “Did Qiqi say something bad?”

“Qiqi,” Childe wheezed, “Qiqi, look at your notebook again. Three months, two weeks ago. You made a note to yourself.”

That was when she’d managed to trick Rex Lapis into thinking there was an Adeptibeast out there that he didn’t know about. Childe wished he’d been there to see Zhongli’s expression when he realized the misunderstanding. He’d been entertained enough by the sheepishness when Zhongli and Lumine turned up asking for mora, but still. Qiqi dutifully opened her notebook and flipped to the right date. Her brow furrowed further the more she read.

“No… Impossible…”

“Very possible!” said Childe. “It comes from the fruit of the silversand coconut tree, which we Fatui have been paying a handsome sum to get the seeds for. We have an agreement with Bubu Pharmacy, you know. Getting you a stable supply of coconut milk is the least we can do for our generous business partner.”

“You… bring coconut milk?” said Qiqi.

“Yep! The first few shipments should already have arrived for you,” said Childe.

Qiqi stared at him for a moment, then fisted her hand in the edge of his coat. With renewed determination she said, “Let’s all go… get coconut milk,” and sped up her pace.

Bubu Pharmacy’s lanterns were all lit and the doors open when they arrived, but Baizhu was the only one inside and he looked rather the worse for wear. Working so hard to fill the mystery order from Ningguang had left dark circles under his eyes and his usually meticulous fashion was a little rumpled, as if he’d collapsed on the desk for a desperate nap. Changsheng was still wrapped around his neck but completely out cold, little tongue flicking in and out of sight with her snores.

“Ah, there you are, my little Qiqi,” he said, and even the smile and tone were subdued. “I wondered where you’d run off to. Not any trouble, I hope?”

“Our sincerest apologies, Dr. Baizhu. I’m afraid Miss Qiqi was caught up in the most recent Jade Chamber contest events,” said Xingqiu.

“The Jade Chamber? Whatever for?”

Baizhu knelt to inspect Qiqi more thoroughly, making sure she had all her talismans and not so much as a fold of clothing was out of place. Qiqi, for her part, tugged lightly at the sleeve of his coat and said, “Coconut milk… Quick. Baizhu, Qiqi wants coconut milk.”

“One of the materials needed to create the Wonder Cores is starsplinter iron, which can only be found when it resonates with a vision,” said Xingqiu. “It seems that while Qiqi was out gathering your supplies a group of civilians commandeered her and her Cryo vision. She’s unharmed and has gotten all of the mints you needed, but the three of us believed it best to escort her back in case there were any other contestants lurking around.”

Baizhu frowned, fixing Qiqi’s hat so it sat straighter on her head. “Qiqi, until this contest is over, you should stay with me so no strange people try to trick you away. Can you write that down in your notebook for me?”

Qiqi tugged more insistently on his sleeve. “Coconut milk.”

Baizhu heaved a long, defeated sigh. “Yes, Qiqi, as you wish. Coconut milk, but then you write that note to yourself.”

“Yay,” Qiqi said with no emotion, following on his heels as Baizhu headed toward the supply room. “Coconut milk for everyone.”

Baizhu sighed again but didn’t argue. He returned with a crate halfway filled with bottles that… yes, that was definitely the Fatui logo on the side. It was nice to see a project running smoothly for once. Baizhu tiredly handed out bottles to each of them. One was left over in the box. Baizhu stared at it a moment before apparently deciding he was going along with whatever this nonsense was.

“This,” Chongyun said slowly, eyes on the bottle he’d just cracked open, “isn’t… spicy, is it?”

Baizhu looked at him. Just looked at him.

Chongyun went red and said, “You’re not Xingqiu! It should be fine! I’m sorry!” and started chugging it as if the drink might chase away the embarrassment as easily as the popsicles did.

“Take it easy!” Childe laughed. “It takes a lot of money and effort to get this. You should savor it.”

“Savor,” Qiqi echoed.

She managed to get her bottle open and raised it in a solemn toast. Amused, the others copied. Childe lifted his bottle to his lips to drink. Xingqiu paused, tilting his own bottle as if fascinated with the consistency, and then with precise and marvelous timing whispered, “Cocogoat.”

Childe snorted coconut milk out of his nose.

Chapter Text

Childe was woken by a knock at his apartment door. He was a light sleeper by nature, quick to rise and quick to be coherent, so when he answered the door the agent awaiting him may as well have believed him awake for hours.

“Report,” he said.

“A messenger has just arrived for you,” replied the agent, with a smart salute. “She entered the harbor without being seen, and Ekaterina has ordered her to stay in this building until you’ve dealt with the issue. She’s brought intelligence reports.”

“From where?” said Childe.

“Inazuma, sir.”

Childe frowned. “Does it have to do with my last mission there?”

“She didn’t elaborate, sir.”

Childe didn’t like that very much. “I’ll be down in ten minutes.”

He was downstairs in five, after pulling on his uniform. There were several parlor rooms on the ground floor of the building, meant to be apartments themselves but left with doors open and comfortable furniture inside to facilitate relaxation and mingling outside of work, away from the prying eyes and ears of Liyue Harbor. One of these rooms was now guarded by armed agents, while inside Ekaterina and Felix set out tea. The messenger was a Fatui mirror maiden.

“Well, well, well,” said Childe, as he sauntered in. “I wasn’t expecting a familiar face. Branka, right?”

Branka bowed, graceful but reverent. “I’m honored that you remembered me, Lord Harbinger.”

“Of course I did! We Hydro users should stick together, shouldn’t we?” said Childe, dropping into the open chair opposite her.

It wasn’t just her element that stuck in his mind. When he’d been sent to Inazuma to check on Scaramouche’s potential hiding place (they’d called him in since only a Harbinger could be trusted to escape alive from another angry Harbinger), Branka had been the most reliable resource for directions and local intelligence. It hadn’t been her job—she was meant to be tracking down information about the Sacred Sakura’s roots—but the whole situation regarding that Mystic Onmyou Chamber domain had been sheer chaos at high speed, and she’d stepped up to the task without hesitation. He didn’t easily forget competence.

“So, what’s got you crossing the sea?” he asked. “If you’re here on leave to appreciate the tourist spots, I doubt you’d have come in uniform.”

“That’s true, sir. I’m not on leave at all,” said Branka. “I’m here with a request to report our dealings in Inazuma to you.”

Childe raised one incredulous brow. “Are you having trouble forwarding your missives to Snezhnaya, or are you asking me to take charge of your operations?”

“The latter, sir.” She bowed again, hands clasped in her lap to fight her nerves. “After the abolition of the Vision Hunt Decree and the ending of the war, the Fatui position in Inazuma has been very precarious. Previously we had two Harbingers in charge, but as you know, Scaramouche has vanished, and La Signora…”

“Passed,” Childe said with a grimace.

He didn’t know the details of Signora’s death beyond it resulting from a duel before the Raiden Shogun’s throne. The one thing he did know was that the Tsaritsa would never, ever forgive the Shogun for killing her. As for Childe… he hadn’t gotten along well with Signora, and he’d been especially bitter over her role in Liyue’s contract, but he too felt an undercurrent of resentment when he thought of it. Signora had not been hers to harm. If he ever faced the Shogun himself, he would certainly be aiming for revenge.  

“We have no guidance,” said Branka. “Our agents have tried to man their posts and keep up their intelligence operations, but we have no goals, no one to report to. We have fighting squads stranded as far as Watatsumi Island, unable to withdraw because their last orders were to stay or be killed for insubordination, and the islanders are actively hostile to their presence. A higher-ranking officer called Efim Schneitzevich has attempted to take control, but his plan is to go in disguise as the opposing sides and poison Inazuma’s land, to take vengeance for La Signora’s death and attempt to reignite the war. From my understanding our influence in the war was simply a method of gaining the Electro Archon’s gnosis, and that’s already done. Inazuma already knows how the Fatui were involved in the delusion manufacturing and manipulation of their politics; no matter how cunning a disguise Efim uses, we will be the first suspect. To move forward with Efim’s plan may damage any of Snezhnaya’s links to Inazuma permanently. We may drive them to war with us instead. Such a drastic plan— Forgive me, Lord Harbinger, but I and the others vowed we wouldn’t proceed until we had a Harbinger’s, or even the Tsaritsa’s, input!”

Archons. Poisoning Inazuma’s citizens? Childe had thought he’d messed up international relations when the whole Osial debacle had been in control; the sigils of permission had only temporarily lifted the seal, the Qixing were alert, the Archon meant to arrive quickly, and while Fatui agents had gone up to the Jade Chamber to sell the ploy, twice as many had laid in wait in the harbor to minimize damage if needed and Childe had plenty more sigils to restore the seal at any time. Osial had only been bait. For someone to go in with the specific intention of killing off Inazuma’s most vulnerable people… it wasn’t a fair fight. It was downright heinous.

“What is Efim doing right now?” Childe said urgently.

“He’s giving orders to his subordinates, but they’ve allied with the rest of us and are stalling in setting anything up,” said Branka.

“Good. You have my order as a Harbinger, there will be no poisoning. No aggression toward non-combatants whatsoever,” said Childe. “If Efim tries to move forward with it, you have my full authority in putting him down. Felix, some paper, we’ll make it official so the bastard can’t make excuses—”

“Right away, sir,” said Felix, and rushed to draw up the document.

Childe rubbed at the bridge of his nose. “As for standard operations, have you reached out to the homeland for instructions?”

“We have, but it’s been many weeks with no resolution,” Branka sighed. “Our contacts at Zapolyarny Palace have indicated that the Tsaritsa is in seclusion, mourning La Signora’s death. She’s issued no orders, and the other Harbingers have chosen to proceed with their own operations.”

It felt at once like a puzzle piece had fallen into place, and suddenly everything made sense.  

The Tsaritsa was mourning.

The Tsaritsa may have seemed cruel, but she loved, and she loved deeply. No other Harbinger had died in action before, and Signora had been her loyal follower ever since the fall of Khaenri’ah; of course she would grieve with the same strength as her affection. She wouldn’t be in any shape to read reports or issue orders. No one but the Tsaritsa would dare reassign Harbingers, so that explained why Childe was still on standby in Liyue. The other Harbingers wouldn’t move on their own, either; if any of them had been involved in Liyue’s “step two,” they must’ve chosen to wait on the Tsaritsa’s approval before moving in, and surely all of them had taken a look at the sinking ship of Inazuma and refused to stake their reputations on something already lost.

Well, Childe’s reputation was already in tatters.

“I’ll take charge,” he said. “I won’t leave Liyue without the Tsaritsa’s order, but we are the closest nation so if nothing else it’ll be the most convenient for you.”

“Thank you, Lord Harbinger,” Branka said with a bow that was far too low. “Sincerely, thank you.”

They spent several hours that morning hashing out what needed to be done, and even after they’d finished the little breakfast trays wheeled in to them, Childe knew there would be many more hours ahead.

“We can finish compiling the information for you, my lord,” Ekaterina said as the trays were rolled out again. “Felix and I will create proposals to delegate tasks to the agents in Inazuma and bring them for your approval once we’ve cross referenced the movements of the other Harbingers and their troops; it wouldn’t do well to interfere with any other schemes. In the meantime, sir, your absence will surely be noted by the harbor…”

“And if they don’t see me outside they’ll be sure I’m scheming somewhere inside,” Childe grumbled, but as important as this was he did like the idea of less scheming and paperwork. “I’ll head out, then. It was good seeing you, Branka!”

Having said his goodbyes, Childe returned to his room. He was just looking to pick up some extra mora (who knew where he’d be running to today), but stopped short. Amid the glow of the subrosium, noctilucous jade, cor lapis, and starsplinter iron… was another kind of rock. Another kind of rock that had not been there when he’d left earlier. This one was small and jagged, a luminous blue with pink and purple facets, and it absolutely oozed the idea of rare luxury. Childe made an ugly noise. He snatched one of the new pieces up and threw open his door.

“Somebody get me a Geochanter!” he called.

Three Geochanters descended on him within a span of thirty seconds.

“Present, my lord,” said the oldest of them. “What do you need?”

“I need a sweep of my room with special attention paid to the newest additions,” said Childe, and held up the stone.

“Oh!” All of the Geochanters leaned in, eyes gleaming.

“What a strange elemental signature.”

“It’s definitely from Liyue. Liyue has all the strangest rocks.”

“It’s not exactly Geo as a power, though. Could be used as an ingredient in something but definitely not the source of anything in and of itself…”

“Well, go check if it’s an ingredient, then, you dunderheads!” said a Cryo cicin mage, who’d showed up alongside an Anemo boxer even without being called.

Within three minutes he had nine agents of varying specialties combing through his room. 

“Sir, there are no elemental traces beyond yourself and the agents who came in just now,” the Anemo boxer reported.

“There’s a heavy Geo concentration in the room, but really that can be blamed on the stones themselves. The clarity and vibrance of the collection directly correlates to stronger presence, even in the most mundane of these ores,” said the oldest Geochanter.

“No spells or traps were set up,” added a Pyro skirmisher.

“There’s no sign of forced entry. All windows remain locked from the inside and no one was reported approaching your door, either,” said the Cryo cicin mage.

“So you’re telling me it’s another locked door gift mystery,” Childe groaned.

“Yes, my lord. Unfortunately.”

Childe pinched the bridge of his nose. “Raise the alarm and cover the rest of the building. If this secret admirer got in, he could’ve overheard or taken things relating to our work. We need to ensure no information was leaked and see if the intruder is still somewhere in here.”

“Yes, sir!” they all cried, and hustled away.

Childe pinched his nose even harder, made a hissing sound, and turned on his heel. He left the building (the guards were a little more hesitant to step aside for him, good on them for being on the alert and suspicious so fast) and made his way down to the merchant docks. He beelined for Ivanovich’s stand. Ivanovich saw him coming and quickly paled.

“Ah, Master Childe. How can I be of assistance?”

Childe marched right up to him, held up the new stone, and said, “What is this?”

Ivanovich put his hands to his face.

“My lord,” he whimpered. “How are you getting these things?”

“Secret admirer, and he’s a pain in the ass,” said Childe. “Do you recognize it?”

“I do,” said Ivanovich. “It’s an archaic stone. Radiant grade. They’ve only been able to pull dull ones out of the Chasm for years! They started to think no more existed! How—How many—”

“Enough,” Childe said vaguely.

Ivanovich whimpered again. “My lord, whoever your secret admirer is, they rival the Tsaritsa in wealth and power. Just one of the varieties of ‘gifts’ you’ve shown me should make a man rich beyond measure, especially if they’re flippant enough to be freely giving it away. He must be the king of merchants.”

“Yes, yes, I know, you’ve mentioned as much before! But surely with this—” Childe stilled. “Wait. A king of merchants. A king of stones, you might say.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“A… Rex Lapis, if you will.”

“Ah, I dare not stray into heresies, sir, but if we are speaking in the most literal meaning of the words…”

Could it be Zhongli? Surely not. The rocks had been appearing even before Zhongli had returned to the harbor, and kept appearing even after Childe had been so rude at Wanmin Restaurant. Besides, why would Zhongli gift him rocks without any explanation? There was no reason for it at all.

Childe shook his head in exasperation. “Do you know of anyone who’d match this wealth, with the sheer variety of rare stones? Any merchants?”

“I’m afraid not,” said Ivanovich. “The closest I could think of is a member of the Qixing. Even if they don’t do the mining themselves, they’d have the power and influence to consolidate the ore.”

Childe really hoped it wasn’t the Qixing. If some member of the Qixing had broken into the Fatui apartments and overheard Branka’s request, they might be under the mistaken idea that Childe was gathering forces for an attack; they might think it was retaliation against their own consolidating of power in the Guili Assembly. Every possible outcome for that was horrible.

Well, this was all the more reason to be seen very far away from the other Fatui, to make sure no one thought he was in any position to scheme with anyone.

So, Childe set off through the harbor again to look for a bright, shiny distraction.

When paying this level to detail, however, he realized something very odd: the mask trend had spread.

Yesterday Childe had only glimpsed it with the fishmonger and parasols, but when he walked down the streets of Liyue this morning, replicas of his mask were everywhere. It was added like some kind of punctuation on the ends of signs or otherwise pinned up over doorways. All of the locations were businesses, but that was where the similarities ended. It didn’t matter if it was a restaurant or antique shop, a tiny family business or Xinyue Kiosk, he just could not escape the sight of his own mask. It wasn’t set up like something for sale, either, just… there. Why. And why weren’t the copious amounts of new tourists unnerved by them? The masks screamed Fatui, but even from here he could see a woman from Fontaine pointing excitedly to the mask over an antique shop and dragging her husband inside. He’d thought at first that the masks were a sign for locals to know where he’d be going, but this made no sense to him at all.

“Why?” he muttered to himself, passing the stairway to the teahouse he’d hid in yesterday that also had his mask displayed.

Too many places were marked to be potential ambush sites for the Jade Chamber competitors. Or maybe it had become a trend? The likely places got more customers, so all the unrelated places started to jump on the bandwagon for more mora?

“My lord,” said Nadia, falling into step beside him.

“Are you giving me a report this early in the morning?” Childe murmured.

“More of a warning as we’re compiling information,” said Nadia. “Please, for the Tsaritsa’s sake, don’t go to Third Round Knockout.”

“Excuse me, what?” said Childe.

“Iron Tongue Tian tried to bribe some agents yesterday to get information about you. I’m certain he’s trying to come up with a new story.”

Childe stopped walking to stare at her. “Iron Tongue Tian. The same one who was so happy to paint the Fatui as villains in his Osial story?”

“The very same,” said Nadia. “He’s unnervingly enthusiastic right now.”

“The agents didn’t give him anything, did they?” said Childe.

“They were drunk,” said Nadia.

That was an explanation in itself. Childe was definitely the most popular Harbinger among his subordinates—even other Harbingers’ spies liked to play nice with him—and once they realized he wasn’t the sort to kick them around on a whim, the agents tended to fawn. On one memorable occasion he’d checked in at Mondstadt’s Goth Grand Hotel (he needed to figure out what was going on with them now that Signora was out of the picture), and drunk agents had regaled him with stories of his own accomplishments. Directly to his face. So blackout drunk they hadn’t recognized him. He’d found it hilarious, and only later realized it was a trend. If anyone went up to a drunken pack of Fatui and expressed positivity toward Childe, the Fatui would immediately gush about anything that made him sound cool; if someone approached with scorn, the Fatui would either ignore them or have to be talked down from a bar fight.

By Nadia’s wording Childe suspected Iron Tongue Tian had approached these Fatui soldiers with the fawning method. He probably had more than enough material now to twist.

“It’s just a fad. It’ll go away soon,” Childe groaned.

“A fad?”

As an answer, Childe pointed at the mask posted to the signboard of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor. Hu Tao happened to be arranging her coupons on the board at the same time, and shot them an overly wide smile and wave.

“Pleasure doing business with you! Think you’ll be in the market for more coffins anytime soon?”

“Director, please,” the undertaker Meng whined from the doorway.

“You know I’d never go anywhere else for my coffin needs,” Childe called back.

“Most people go to Bubu Pharmacy for their coughing needs, but I’m glad you’re a man with taste!” Hu Tao cackled.

It was at this point that the Ferrylady came out to despair over insensitive coupons, and with that distraction both Childe and Nadia set off at double their prior speed.

“I think the merchants are trying to take advantage of my sudden popularity with the Jade Chamber contest,” Childe grumbled. “Iron Tongue Tian is just following the trend. The sooner the Jade Chamber is finished, the sooner this will be over.”

“I’m not certain it’s that simple,” said Nadia. “Iron Tongue Tian isn’t the only storyteller who’s been asking about you.”

“Who else, then?” he sighed.

It could be any number of teahouse staff, really, but—

“Miss Yun Jin came to the bank yesterday.”

Childe felt suddenly cold. Yun Jin had looked at him yesterday as if she was realizing things, and he hated the idea that she had so many pieces to put together now.

“When was this?” he asked, feigning normalcy.

“In the evening. Yun Jin, Shenhe, and the Traveler were among the first contestants to bring Wonder Core materials to Hanfeng Ironmongers, and immediately afterward Yun Jin went to the bank. She requested to set up interviews with several agents at different levels of the organization to speak about the Fatui. She seemed especially interested in reasons for joining.”

He hated that. He really, really hated that.

“Were the interviews approved?”

“Andrei and Ekaterina agreed that positive attention from someone so well-known and respected in the harbor would go a long way toward improving the reputation of the Northland Bank, but they are not fools,” said Nadia. “Anyone selected for the interviews will be sympathetic and charismatic, but also well-trained at keeping secrets. I suspect your approval will be needed on the final list.”

Childe nodded to himself. “Good. They should keep in mind that as young as she is, Miss Yun Jin is very clever and pays close attention to word choice. She’s trapped frauds in their own words on more than one occasion. Don’t underestimate her.”

“Of course, sir.”

By this time they’d crossed the bridge and entered Chihu Rock. Childe kept close to the edge of the square, as far as possible from the open-air seating of Third Round Knockout.

“Anything else to report?”

“Nothing at the moment, sir. Please take care,” said Nadia, and melted into the shadows.

Childe chose to walk on, out of the harbor and to the construction site.

Whoever Ningguang had hired to work on the Jade Chamber, they worked fast.

The foundation was floating, now: the Sunset Vermillionite was encased in the large, elegant stone keel of the chamber, and had been activated so it all floated overhead. The only thing keeping it from soaring into the heavens during the rest of the construction was a multitude of heavy metal tethers anchoring it to the ground. Wooden hoists dotted the mountaintops as workers hastened to put together the living quarters of the chamber atop its base.

On the ground, the festival atmosphere had intensified. Hundreds of people craned their necks to get a better view, kameras flashed, gawkers giggled amongst themselves, and the food stands had doubled in number while hawkers pushed their wares. Stages had been set up as well, drawing in anyone who got bored of construction workers. Almost half of the people present were foreign tourists. Most were Inazuman (Branka had likely stowed away on one of the tourist ships), but there were fashions from all over Teyvat present.

“Did you hear that a single woman carried in that rock in the base?” a man from Natlan was saying to his companion. “That huge thing! And she brought it in one-handed, without breaking a sweat! Liyue’s Adepti are really something…”

What would these people say if they knew Shenhe wasn’t an Adeptus? Childe was musing on that when a spray of fireworks and a guitar riff caught his attention.

A few rows away, one of the stages was hosting the finale of Xinyan’s show. She strummed her guitar one, two, three times, colored sparks plumed from the stage’s sides, and the drummer thundered through the last few notes. Xinyan threw up her hand in some kind of rock and roll symbol and cried, “Thanks for coming, ya’ll! It’s been rockin’!”

The crowd clustered around her (mostly people from Fontaine, already familiar with the music genre) happily applauded. Xinyan bowed, downright glowing in excitement. Some kind of Qixing official stepped onstage to catch their attention and said, “That was, ahem, rock and roll, with Xinyan. A musical style that is, ah…”

“Going to take Liyue Harbor by storm!” cried Xinyan, to tumultuous cheers.

“Yes. That,” the Qixing representative said dryly. “The next musician is a more traditional representation of Liyue, to share with you the beauty of the erhu…”

The audience seemed just as happy to be exposed to the new music. Everyone on the stage shuffled, new musicians coming up to take the place of the old. Xinyan gave her drummer a high five before swinging her guitar onto her back and hopping off the side of the stage. She looked around, taking in the sights now that stage lights weren’t halfway blinding her, and fixed on Childe.

“Red!” she cried, flinging up a hand again and hurrying toward him. “Wow, you’re a sight for sore eyes! I wondered if I’d see you around here!”

“Hey, Xinyan,” he greeted. He was happy to see her; he’d hunted monsters through turbulent domains of death plenty of times, but few of his fellow fighters were ever as lighthearted about it as she’d been, so he’d appreciated her very much. “Seems like just yesterday we were hanging out with Shiki Taisho! I thought you were sticking around Inazuma for a while. Was it too much chaos for anyone to enjoy the music?”

Xinyan winced but fell into step beside him. “Yeah, it’s a real bummer. When the tour fell through so did the venues. I was hoping if I showed up they’d let me play anyway, but it didn’t work out. Most of the people I came across were still antsy even about their neighbors, let alone outlanders. Not great for spreading the excitement. Some of them were cool, though. The Yashiro Commission let me set up and jam out in their compound. I think I got a few rock and roll converts there. I figure if I could get Mister Zhongli, I can get anyone!”

Zhongli had once invited Xinyan to play at a funeral. Hearing about that several months ago had sent Childe into hysterics, which was only compounded when Zhongli defended himself by saying she needed a break, as her music sense was being unfairly stifled by the bourgeoisie… as if he hadn’t ever looked at himself in a mirror.

That memory reminded him to be a little sour right now as he glanced at the stage they were leaving behind.

“By the way, that announcer was being rude as hell. Do you need me to beat him up for you?”

Xinyan laughed and waved him off. “No way! This is my first official, approved performance in Liyue Harbor. I don’t think they’ll be too happy to give me more if they start losing teeth over it.”

“I could be sneaky about it,” he wheedled. “They’d never even know you’re linked.”

“Thanks, Red, but no thanks,” she chuckled. “Maybe it doesn’t seem like much from the outside since they only let me play so I could lure in the Fontaine crowd and get them stuck with the erhu, but it works the other way around, too! Everybody who came to hear traditional music got a taste of my rock and roll. Who knows, maybe there’s a new fan created today! And even if there isn’t, it was cool to know that people from the birthplace of rock and roll appreciate my style. It was fun!”

“You’re too nice,” said Childe.

“Momma says I’m just stubborn. Too stubborn to accept a grudge,” said Xinyan.

“That’s an interesting way of putting it,” said Childe.

“Isn’t it? Hardly makes sense at all,” said Xinyan. “So, what do you think of the sights, here? Isn’t that just the biggest piece of Plaustrite you’ve ever seen in your life?”

They chattered away, catching up over the near-month they’d gone without seeing each other as they meandered through the crowds. It was nice. They picked up some food as they went, but among the various stalls selling Jueyun chili chicken, Xinyan was adamant that they buy from a stall that had one of Childe’s mask replicas on it. He eyed the stall with distrust even as she bit into her food.

“Mmm, I knew it would be good! Try some of this, Red. I make mine spicier, but this is a great take on it, too! Remind me to invite you over sometime so you can try my version…”

Childe had heard stories about Xinyan’s ‘Rockin’ Riffin’ Chicken’ recipe before and was quietly under the impression that those spice levels would literally kill him.

“Ha! Yeah! I’ll be sure to remind you,” he said, vowing never to do so.

Xinyan hummed happily as she picked up more of the food, but her chopsticks paused as she seemingly remembered something. “Oh, yeah, speaking of food. Xiangling wanted to ask you something—”

“If it’s about Zhongli, she should keep her mouth closed,” said Childe.

Xinyan scoffed. “See, that’s why she’s hesitant to ask. But I figure it’s better to be upfront about this sort of thing: are you okay with her putting up one of those masks on Wanmin?”

Childe grimaced. “She’s cashing in on the trend too, huh?”

“Well, yeah,” said Xinyan. “You’ve been to so many places, if Wanmin doesn’t put one up it’s almost business suicide.”

“What exactly are you talking about?” said Childe.

Xinyan’s head tipped in confusion before her eyes widened. “Oh! You don’t know what this actually is, do you?”

“No,” Childe grumbled. “People weren’t very helpful when I asked.”

Xinyan laughed. She laughed hard enough that she had to stop walking and double over. Childe stopped next to her, crossing his arms in irritation.

“It’s not that funny.”

“It’s— It’s— Archons!” When she finally straightened she had to wipe a tear from her eye. “That must’ve been so confusing for you! Oh, golly, if people started putting up my merch like that without any explanation, I’d think I was going crazy!”

“Well, what is it, then?” said Childe.

“It’s a recommendation system,” said Xinyan.

“A what,” said Childe.

“Recommendation! Like getting a star in the Steambird,” said Xinyan. “You’ve got money, you’ve got taste, and you’re something of a celebrity. The idea is that anywhere you’ve gone is quality. It helps that you’ve visited a range of restaurants and shops while you’re here, so there’s a recommendation for any budget! It’s super popular with the tourists right now.”

That fit in with the idea of a fad he’d assumed, but… really? Seriously?

“It’s more like Zhongli’s recommendations,” he said bitterly. “He’s the one who dragged me around to all those places.”

“Sure, but Mister Zhongli was pretty adamant it should be your name on it,” said Xinyan.

Childe blinked in surprise. “Zhongli started this?”

“Yeah! He had the idea a while ago but now that there’s so many new people for the Jade Chamber he was able to push harder and get it some traction,” said Xinyan.

“Why?” Childe demanded.

“Maybe to get you some good PR?” she guessed, but didn’t seem overly concerned. “Fatui aren’t really popular in most of Teyvat and it got especially bad here in Liyue for a while.”

For good reason, Childe wanted to scream. Aloud he only said, “Okay, but… this?”

“Sometimes it’s the little things that make all the difference,” said Xinyan.

By this point they were crossing the bridge back into Chihu Rock—Xinyan had earlier mentioned something about gathering more supplies so that on her next turn onstage her guitar would spew fireworks on its own—but. Alas. It was not to be.

In the blink of an eye, an Adeptus was standing directly in front of them. Xiao wasn’t wearing his mask or carrying a polearm at the moment, but he was far from happy. He glared at Childe as if he had some Adept ability to kill with a glance. Xinyan stopped short, blinking in surprise. Childe shifted fast to a more defensive stance and bared his teeth in a grin.

“Well, well, the Conqueror of Demons returns. Are you here for me to finish kicking your ass?”

As much as he wanted to fight, this was horrible timing. Did this really have to be in front of Xinyan? Did it really need to have the yet-ignorant crowds so close behind them?

Xiao’s expression soured even further. He didn’t say anything.

Childe raised a brow. “Cat got your tongue?”

“Shut up,” Xiao snapped. He sucked in a deep breath. “I am here… here to…” And then he stopped again, eyes closed as if he were in deep pain.

“To…?” said Childe.

Xiao snarled and disappeared.

Wait, what? That was it? Childe looked around to be sure the Adeptus wasn’t lurking around a corner or on a nearby rooftop, but no. He really was gone.

“Huh. That was weird,” said Xinyan.  

“No kidding,” said Childe.

“Are you two friends?” asked Xinyan.

“What about that said ‘friendship’ to you?” said Childe, incredulous.

Xinyan shrugged. “He approached you without trying to fight you, didn’t he? As far as I’ve heard from Lumine, the Vigilant Yaksha’s pretty reclusive.” Her pondering expression widened into an excited, wobbly smile. “I just saw the Vigilant Yaksha up close! That’s bragging rights. Wait until I tell Chongyun.”

“Is Chongyun friendly with him?” Childe grumbled, starting to walk again.

“Ha! No,” said Xinyan. “He thinks Xiao is cool, but Xiao said something about exorcists being weak so he gets all touchy about it.”

“I can imagine.”

“I think the only person who can claim Xiao as a friend at this point is Lumine, but that’s not surprising. She can make friends with anybody she sets eyes on.” Xinyan perked up again and started to wave. “Oh, hey, speaking of friends, that looks like Yun Jin! Hey, over here!”

To his horror it was Yun Jin at the street food stall next to Second Life, getting some kind of milk tea. At Xinyan’s shout the singer looked up with the straw already in her mouth; she blinked in surprise before her focus sharpened.

“Yun Jin’s really nice, but we don’t get to hang out much,” said Xinyan, oblivious to the way Childe was sweating more at the sight of an opera singer than he had been with a Yaksha. “Her family and troupe think rock and roll is a bad influence, but Yun Jin’s a fan! We share singing tips all the time, plus we do embroidery! She’s intimidating onstage but the sweetest girl in person. Have you met her? I can introduce you right now.”

“Uh, not necessary,” said Childe.

“Are you sure?” said Xinyan.

“Master Childe?” Yun Jin called, already hurrying toward them.

Yeah. No. Childe was out.

“You know what, I think I left something on the stove,” he said quickly, sidestepping to the bridge railing. “I’d better go fix that, you know, before the Qixing decide I’m up to some dastardly plan to destroy Liyue Harbor again. I’ll catch you later!”

“Wait!” said Yun Jin, running faster.

Childe did not wait. He swung himself over the railing and dropped down into the gorge. Xinyan and Yun Jin both screeched a little when he failed to pull out a glider, but that was fine. A glider would’ve just given away his position. Instead he returned to pure Hydro energy again and skimmed away across the surface of the water.

He left all awkward confrontations well behind him, navigating all the way to the opposite end of Chihu Rock… only to realize the crowds had intensified on this side of the bridge. A few more boats had come in, and tourists packed the streets. There was nowhere near the docks that he could avoid being seen crawling out like a bathysmal vishap, and nowhere to sneakily appear along the gorge’s sides except… Wangsheng. Even now the funeral parlor was being given a wide berth. Well, desperate times called for desperate measures…

Childe scaled the manmade wall and took shape again behind Wangsheng’s bulletin board. He peered around its side for any witnesses. The little courtyard remained empty.

Was anyone in Wangsheng at this time of day? He couldn’t make out anything through their windows. The last thing he wanted was for Zhongli to spot him and think he’d come for some kind of absolution, and with his current streak of luck that would be exactly what happened.

Childe moved quickly. He crouched as he passed the windows to keep from being seen before straightening, nearly at a run as he stepped out onto the main street—

“Look! There he is!”

Childe immediately retreated three steps and leaned against the wall. He tried to make it look casual but he was pretty sure he failed miserably. There came the sound of rushing steps, and then an excited face—thankfully not familiar—came into view.

“You’re that Harbinger, aren’t you?” said a woman in Sumeru styled clothing, pointing at his head. “That’s the mask on all the shops!”

Childe grimaced. “It… does look pretty similar, doesn’t it?”

“Can I take a picture with you?” said the woman.

Wait. What?

“Why?” said Childe, baffled.

“You’re a celebrity, aren’t you?” said the woman. “I’m documenting all the important things I’ve seen on this trip. I’ve got pictures of the Jade Chamber, Liuli Pavilion and Xinyue Kiosk, Captain Beidou, Xiangling in Wanmin—” Her eyes downright sparkled. “It would be so cool to get one of you, the source of this super-helpful recommendation system!”

Childe didn’t really like that. He was, after all, a Harbinger. The Tsaritsa’s vanguard. Was this a potential breach in security? But… then again, his cover had been blown for a long time. And maybe this would add a little goodwill toward the Fatui.

“Uh, sure?” he said, eyes flicking back at the funeral parlor. “Let’s just make it fast, okay?”

The tourist was thrilled. She tucked herself in against his side (wow. Personal boundaries?) and held up her kamera angled at the two of them. Childe threw on his perfected haha-I’m-not-an-evil-Fauti-what-are-you-talking-about smile, and after about five clicks of the kamera she was satisfied. She held the little machine tight to her chest.

“A picture of a Harbinger!” she whispered reverently, as if he were some harmless idol like Mondstadt’s Barbara. “I wonder how long it would take to get pictures of all of you?”

Childe set a hand on her shoulder and said, with feeling, “No. Don’t do that to yourself.”

“But as a collection—”

“My coworkers suck. They won’t agree to pictures.”

The very idea of Scaramouche and paparazzi made his head hurt. At best, the other Harbingers would find fans annoying; at worst, they might resort to violence. 

“Quick question: do you think anyone else would be interested in pictures of me around here?” he asked.

“Oh, definitely!” said the tourist.

“Great!” he chirped, and resolved to escape from the harbor entirely.

He hustled through the rest of the crowds northward, cheerily giving out excuse mes, pardon mes and the like but never slowing at any point until he was across the bridge and into the wilderness.

He avoided the ruins of the Guili Assembly, instead veering west off the main roads. There weren’t any Millelith stationed on this route—all of them were already manning the Assembly ruins for their clandestine project—so Childe was left in peace. He cleared out a few hilichurl camps, used some stray cicins for target practice, and kneecapped a ruin guard for parts before finding himself at an even temper again. He ended up sitting on a rock near the banks of the river that fed into Luhua Pool, in the shade of a cluster of trees.

“That was a pretty good one,” he said to himself, tugging lightly at his collar to get some more airflow; some days in Liyue were stiflingly hot, and it was always worst just after he’d worked up some sweat in a fight. “Could’ve been faster, though. Maybe if I came at it from the back, next time…”

He trailed off, watching the way sunshine caught on the water.

It was quiet here.

Peaceful.

He was reminded, suddenly, of the serenity of ice fishing.

It had been years since he’d last gotten the chance to do that. There was no ice in Liyue to support such an activity, he couldn’t so easily abandon his post to visit Dragonspine, and besides, he hadn’t felt the need for it.

When other people heard about that little hobby of his they tended to be confused. Why should the bloodthirsty Tartaglia waste his time sitting on a frozen lake with no excitement for hours on end? If anyone asked, he’d laugh and say it was an opportunity to train his endurance. The truth was that it provided much-needed calm.

When he’d been small, he’d followed his father out for ice fishing. It had been a bonding activity for them, on top of providing more food for the table. Little Ajax hadn’t minded the cold nipping at his face or the time it took to chisel the hole in the ice or wait for any fish to bite. It mattered much more that they were out and away from any worries—no arguments from home, no bad news from town, no wild animals since his father had scouted the place earlier—so it felt safe and almost suspended from lackluster reality. His father would sit with him and tell him all kinds of exciting stories, and his mind would run rampant as he pictured himself in all those lofty roles.

Out there on the ice, he’d always been safe. Hopeful.

After he fell into the Abyss, it never happened again.

 Sure, after he’d reached some stability among the Fatui he’d tried again. But the ice was empty and the wind was cold, and that sense of safety never returned. Going through the motions let him remember, though.

Maybe that was why he’d settled so easily here in this new nation. Liyue was just about the furthest thing you could get from Snezhnaya’s snowfields, but he’d had that chance to linger, to be safe, and for someone to sit beside him to regale him with stories. Until now he hadn’t even realized the parallel. But… in Liyue he hadn’t been looking forward to time freezing and impossible future adventures. He’d been fully content in the moment as he lived it.

How strange.

How depressing.

It made the sting of betrayal all the worse. 

In the here and now, as he looked out at the warm waters, he guiltily wished that he could hear Zhongli’s stories. For everything to feel right again.

Something nudged at Childe’s hand.

He leapt to his feet, casting around for any sight of a threat, but no one was there. The only thing out of the ordinary was…

“A starconch?” he muttered, confused.

Because there was a starconch on the rock where he’d been sitting. It hadn’t been there when he arrived, and there was no reason for it to be all the way here when they were naturally found washed up on the eastern beaches. Had someone dropped it? He squinted at the sky, but no, there was no sign of haphazard gliders today. Weird. Cautiously, he picked it up.

It was a very nice starconch. Its shell was an array of soft blue tones, all wrapping into a pearlescent white star in the middle of its swirl. The star itself was small, but he’d seen merchants clamoring over such quality before.

The empty shells are brought ashore by the tides, Zhongli had said once, while they were perusing the marketplace. They are organic items, produced by sea snails and continuously growing. While similar no two are quite the same, as the snail’s diet and surrounding water quality affect one’s formation. They are rare to start with, as even when the snail dies its shell may be claimed by other sea life and never reach shore, but the shades of blue, distinctness of the stripes, and size and quality of the star pattern may shift its price from a child’s pocket mora to the entire vault of the Northland Bank. To the average person this ‘quality’ is unimportant, though. When most people find a starconch, they will hold it close to their ear. It is said that inside it, you can hear the longing calls of the sea.

Childe gave a soft huff of laughter as he turned the starconch over in his hands. What need did he have of more expensive trinkets? He’d already sent clutters of starconches back home when he’d first arrived in Liyue, so it couldn’t entertain his siblings either. It was better to leave this suspicious shell right where it was. But then again… He brushed a thumb over the star, contemplating, and then slowly, slowly, raised it to his ear.

“Lord Harbinger.”

Childe lowered the shell immediately and tucked it behind his back, expression calm. “Report.”

“Yes, my lord,” said Javert, who had popped up out of nowhere. Either he’d gotten way more talented at that in a short amount of time, or Childe was more out of it than he realized. “I’m here to give an update on the Jade Chamber contest. The materials needed are apparently much more common than anyone realized so will not pose a problem in sourcing. Additionally, seemingly per your request, the Traveler shared all information she had on the creation of the Wonder Cores. Master Zhang is working on a very large number of orders from multiple contestants, but the Traveler, Yun Jin, and Beidou remain in the lead. Our current intelligence indicates that Lady Ningguang will set a cap for the number of Wonder Cores allowed to be made, so the contestants will be moving on to the next required item quickly.”

“How quickly? Are we talking hours or days?” asked Childe.

“We believe hours, my lord,” said Javert.

“Steps have already been taken to protect our privacy, correct?’

“Yes, sir.”

“Has anyone come around asking about these Adepti Sigils yet?”

“Questions are beginning to be asked, yes, but none have been brave enough to speak to the Fatui directly yet.”

Childe gave a mirthless snort. “Who have they been asking, then?”

“Various local informants. There are a number of related commissions proposed on the Adventurers Guild’s job boards but none seem to have been completed yet. Agents have also confirmed that several contestants have set out to Jueyun Karst themselves.”

“How brave of them,” said Childe. “Stupid, though. How much do you want to bet they all get eaten by the amber on Mount Hulao?”

Javert did not comment on a losing bet. “Given the… enthusiasm shown on the previous items, I was advised to report this to you as fast as possible. As our leader and the most well-known to the public, you will likely be targeted for information.”

“Not that that’s any different from the last two items on the list,” Childe grumbled. “Anything else you want to tell me, that’s different from what I already learned this morning?”

“That is all, sir.”

“Good. Dismissed.”

Javert gave a short bow and disappeared again.

Childe flopped back on the rock and fought the urge to groan. He’d known this last, most annoying item was coming up, but he dreaded dealing with it.

“I’m going to be reassigned,” he told the leaves above him. “I’m going to be reassigned soon and I’ll never have to deal with this again.”

But soon was not now, so he dragged himself back up and set out toward Liyue Harbor again. He was halfway back by the time he realized that he’d taken the starconch with him. He stopped short, studying it a little longer. It was definitely strange for it to have showed up the way it did. Maybe it was some nefarious step in someone’s plan? He glanced around for somewhere to dispose of it and spotted yet another odd thing.

Off on the other side of the road, there was a man sprawled over a large rock. Clashing with the vivid red maple leaves of his robe was the minty hue of an Anemo vision at his shoulder. Childe cocked his head, curious. Anemo? He’d seen strong Anemo users fly through the air even without a glider. Was this the person who’d dropped that starconch? The closer Childe walked, the more he was sure; this was Kazuha, the Inazuman vagrant taken on by Beidou and her crew. Their main anchor point was Guyun Stone Forest, which was littered with starconches. 

“Hey there,” Childe greeted, strolling up alongside him. “I don’t suppose you dropped something earlier?”

Kazuha did not reply. He was face down on the rock and didn’t appear to be breathing.

“Hello?” said Childe.

Still nothing. Visions didn’t glow for dead men, though, and he didn’t appear otherwise injured. Childe cleared his throat. Loudly.

“Ahem.”

Kazuha finally stirred. He made a very small, very confused noise, then propped himself up on his elbows to blink blearily around.

“Good afternoon, comrade,” said Childe, brandishing the starconch. “You dropped something.”

Kazuha accepted the shell, still seemingly half asleep.

“Ah,” he said softly. “This is a beautiful specimen. One might search all the beaches in Liyue for a hundred years and never see such a fine starconch again.”

“Then it’s a good thing you’ve gotten it back,” said Childe. “Say, I wonder if you could enlighten me on something? I know the Alcor does some supply runs beyond Liyue Harbor. Have you seen any strange activity near the Guili Assembly ruins?”

Kazuha shook his head. He sat up fully and held out the starconch again. “I am a wanderer. I have the clothes on my back and the sword in my hand, and I have no need for anything else. This starconch is not mine.”

“Well, it’s not mine either,” said Childe. “About the Guili Assembly—”

“I hope you will take it anyway,” said Kazuha. “It would be heartbreaking to have a beautiful shell like this be lost and never again appreciated. Besides, even if it wasn’t yours before, it was meant for you.”

Childe raised a skeptical brow. “Says who?”

“The leaves and the wind.” Kazuha smiled. “It was given to you freely and without expectation, but with hope.”

“Okay,” Childe said slowly, taking the starconch back.

To his knowledge no Anemo user could talk to the trees or wind itself (they weren’t Barbatos), but he wasn’t about to annoy him when he wanted information. Thankfully Kazuha seemed satisfied. Kazuha stretched his arms lazily overhead, checked the sun’s progress in the sky, and slipped down from the rock.

“I’m not normally involved with supply runs for the Alcor, so I have no knowledge of any movement in the Guili Plains,” he said. “The only strangeness I know of is Captain Beidou’s participation in the rebuilding of the Jade Chamber.”

“Yeah, I was pretty confused when I heard she was helping. I thought she and Ningguang hated being publicly associated with each other,” said Childe.

“It doesn’t appear to be a simple relationship,” Kazuha agreed. “Captain Beidou is constantly tricking and evading the Millelith Ningguang sends to spy on her, but also takes secret missions directly from Ningugang herself. She will disparage her, then praise her. As soon as the crew believes she feels one way, Captain Beidou acts another.”

“Then maybe it’s not strange at all that she’s helping.”

Kazuha gave another smile, something secretive now, and Childe realized he’d been given some kind of hint.

“Have the leaves and the wind mentioned anything else beyond my secret admirer?” he asked.

“I smell a storm from the east,” said Kazuha. “The Alcor has sailed through many storms before, though, so we know the precautions to take. I wouldn’t worry about this one.”

He left shortly thereafter, and Childe returned to the harbor in deep thought.

A storm.

It was the same phrase Cloud Retainer had used with Lumine, and what Xiao had mentioned before disappearing. So something really was afoot, something dire enough to prepare all those medical supplies. Beidou was in on whatever it was—Beidou, who took orders from Ningguang, who Cloud Retainer was observing. It was the humans moving for this with the Adepti standing aside, but what other than Adepti could they be preparing to face? Kazuha had said east, not southeast, so whatever enemy they were looking for was coming from the open ocean instead of somewhere like Inazuma.

Childe’s first, horrifying thought was Osial. Thankfully the odds of that were astronomically low. His forged Seals of Permission had only been able to channel godly power for a short time, so even when all that shit had gone down after the Golden House, he’d known Osial would be a threat for less than an hour. After a knock on the head(s) from the original Jade Chamber, that had been doubly true. The Adepti had already combed Guyun Stone Forest to ensure the seal was secure again, and Zhongli certainly wouldn’t stand by if he thought there was a problem, either. Nobody could crack that open now that there were so many eyes on it.

The Fatui weren’t a threat anymore— sure, they still prowled Liyue for the Northland Bank’s operation, but they’d downsized significantly since the gnosis had been taken. The Tsaritsa had what she wanted and there was no need to threaten the goodwill they had with Zhongli; even if he wasn’t an Archon anymore, he had powerful friends to influence. The Fatui had moved on to grander plans in other nations.

The Abyss Order? No, he’d seen those mages flounder in water enough times, there was no way they’d risk their strength out on the waves without their hypnotized supports.

What did that leave? Pirates? Surely if there was some pirate fleet capable of spooking the Crux, let alone Liyue Harbor, Childe would’ve heard of it by now?

The whole thing was incredibly frustrating.

Even more frustrating was the way his thoughts derailed when Xiao popped up directly in front of him again right next to the stairs to Yujing Terrace.

“Are we really doing this again?” Childe said flatly.

“It must be done,” Xiao growled, but still didn’t whip out a weapon or prepare to lunge.

“Yeah, about that, what must be done?” said Childe. “Both you and Cloud Retainer mentioned storms. Is that what you’re dancing around?”

“Pay no attention to such things,” said Xiao. “I am here to—”

And then he clammed up. Again. It was like the very idea of the words he was trying to say tasted bad.

“You’re looking pretty constipated,” said Childe.

“Silence!”

“Yeah, sure, I’ll be quiet and you tell me what you want.”

Xiao struggled a little longer with his words before giving up, snarling, “Why did it have to be you?” and then poof. Gone.

“Oh, believe me, I ask myself that every day,” Childe griped to the empty air.

“Why indeed.”

Childe’s frustration bubbled even more and he sent a glare up the stairs. “Shenhe. How rare, to see you without your babysitters.”

Because for the first time, she’d appeared entirely alone. Shenhe looked dispassionately back at him, and yeah, maybe it was because she was physically further up on the stairs, but he had the distinct impression that she was looking down at him. The idea had him bristling.

“What do you want?” he growled, turning to face her.

“It’s been made apparent to me that the only language you understand is a fight,” said Shenhe. “That’s convenient, because I want to fight you.”

No way. No way was his perfect chance at a fight going to just fall into his lap like this.

“Oh really?” he said, brows raised.

“You earlier challenged the Traveler to a battle in the Golden House. As the arena is still open, I intend to cross blades with you there. Unless you’ve lost your nerve?”

“Far from it,” Childe said with a grin. “Lead the way.”

She turned and he followed.

They didn’t speak to each other during the walk but attracted plenty of attention. With Shenhe being a ridiculously strong ‘Adeptus’ frontrunner of the contest and Childe being the diplomat who might’ve almost drowned the city, they were instantly recognized. Unlike earlier, though, no one approached them. No, the crowd parted for them instantly and any stragglers scrambled to get out of their path. It was probably because of the palpable bloodlust the two of them were radiating. Shenhe’s face couldn’t be seen from his angle but her shoulders were tense in just the right way to remind him of that swordswoman in the Abyss, and Childe nearly trembled in delight.

Finally, he was getting his worthwhile challenge! And not only had his worthy opponent picked a fight, Shenhe showed full intention of following through! Not like that disappointment with Xiao. Just the memory of that little fiasco made him scowl (on a completely unrelated note, a trio of sailors caught sight of his face and fled into the nearest teahouse).

They left the harbor, skirting the main crowds of the Jade Chamber construction, and walked up the more secluded road to where the glittering Golden House loomed out of the mountainside. More Millelith than usual guarded the route. They all hesitated at the sight of the newcomers; while very much disliked, Childe was a regular sight around here for his fights with the Traveler. Lumine generally had free access anywhere in the nation so she and her companions had never been stopped from entering. Without her around the Millelith were clearly unhappy with Childe’s presence but they didn’t actively attack, probably because an ‘Adeptus’ like Shenhe was the best possible alternative. The newer Millelith glanced at the old, who shook their heads and gestured subtly to stand down. Why should they care if an Adeptus was going to ‘punish’ an enemy of Liyue?

Shenhe didn’t spare them even a glance. She strode over the decorative ponds, up the stone stairs, and pushed open the grand doors.

If the outside of the Golden House was impressive, the inside was jaw dropping. Legend had it that Rex Lapis had built the Golden House out of mora. At first glance the shadowed ceiling and darkened walls could be dismissed as regular building material, but up close an observer could make out the outlines of the old, burnished mora coins stacked up like tiny bricks. Golden banners draped the ceiling and lanterns hung in archways leading to treasure rooms heaped with shimmering new mora. The whole place thrummed with latent power, every single one of the mora pieces eager for a magical reaction.

That electricity in the air and the fact that the patterned floor was a downright stage had Childe’s blood racing in excitement. He skipped down the stairs and onto the floor, stopping only at the cloud lined alcove that had once held the Exuvia. He pulled his bow from the ether as he turned back.

“Rules?” he called, tone playful. “Weapon restrictions? Limits on where we can hit?”

“Why should I care about any of those things?” said Shenhe, spinning her own polearm from the ether. “I didn’t invite you to a children’s bout.”

“Rough and unrestricted, I like it,” Childe laughed. “How about when we stop? Are we quitting at first blood? Because that seems a real shame under the circumstances…”

“No such limitation,” Shenhe insisted. “To abandon a fight at the first sign of blood will satisfy no one. We fight until one of us yields.”

Oh, Childe loved this.

“Good luck! I don’t plan on yielding to anyone.”

“I have never yielded to anything in my life,” Shenhe shot back.

For a moment they both stood still, facing each other across the polished floor.

Childe, impatient and speed-based, was inevitably the first to move. 

He raised his bow for three rapid fire shots of Hydro. Shenhe vanished with a crackle and reappeared five feet to the left, snowflakes trailing behind as she softly alighted from the elemental jump. One of those, huh?

Childe dropped to one knee and fired a volley of arrows upward. They fell in a homing hail but Shenhe danced through their impacts, freezing their spray before they could touch her. It was almost annoying how easily she avoided getting a riptide mark. But that just made her a more exciting opponent! Childe’s teeth bared in a vicious grin as she closed in fast. He jumped at the last minute. The spear sliced the air below him while he aimed the bow directly at her face and shot. A torrent of Hydro drove her back. He sent two more rapid shots before dropping back to the floor. The bow vanished to the ether. Raw Hydro seethed over his hands as he lunged.

The essence of Hydro was versatility—water can take any shape, and all that—and no one exemplified this better than Childe. He laid into her mainly with water blades and shifted seamlessly to other Hydro-formed weapons as he spotted openings or needed a better block without the slightest pause. This combined with his speed tended to be overwhelming for most opponents. But Shenhe was a woman was high standards. Perhaps she’d sparred with Xiao; she fended off the flurry of attacks as if this speed were normal and lashed out with blows that, while narrowly missed, were strong enough for her polearm to leave gouges in the floor and walls.

Neither of them stayed in place. They ducked and weaved, elements crashing and crackling.

Shenhe ducked under the swing of his Hydro spear. “You appear to be enjoying yourself.”

Childe laughed. “Don’t tell me you’re immune to this! I’ve seen how quick you are to jump into a fight yourself!”

“It is simply what I’m good at,” Shenhe replied. “It also happens to be the most effective option.”

“But that’s not all it is!”

Shenhe flickered out of sight again, gliding away from a blow in a sheen of Cryo and Childe followed close behind, copying her move with Electro in the slightest pull from his delusion.

“Isn’t it exciting?” he said, still more thrilled at Shenhe’s surprise. “Doesn’t it feel right? Doesn’t your blood sing?”

Shenhe’s eyes narrowed and she said, “It’s true.” She gestured with one hand and summoned a ghostly talisman spirit, and the air around them chilled. “My master wouldn’t like to hear it, but it is indeed what feels most correct.”

Freezing power surged and the talisman spirit lunged. Childe zipped out of the way and they crashed again with greater power. The overconduct reactions shook the building and made the mora around them rattle like rain. Childe danced through the chaos, the happiest he’d been in a very long time.

This definitely made up for the whole headache of the Jade Chamber. Finding worthy opponents was rare; finding a worthy opponent who not only readily agreed to a fight but understood the thrill had been near impossible. Sure, other Harbingers were plenty powerful but on the rare occasions he could bait them into a fight they either scorned or scolded him. The reason he’d been so excited to be assigned to Liyue was to face the casual martial power of the Adepti. The promise of a fight with Rex Lapis on top of that…

What would it have been like if I had fought Zhongli?

A wave of self-hatred crashed into him and his step faltered. Shenhe pressed the advantage. Childe’s mask was almost knocked off his head.

“I believe now is the time to talk,” said Shenhe, ironically not slowing down in the least.

“Talk?” Childe scoffed, taking a swipe with an Electro blade. “We’re already in the middle of something!”

“When else will you talk without running away?” Shenhe challenged.

“Are you calling me a coward?”

“I’m calling you slippery. Ever since we met you’ve been escaping one thing or another.”

“I’m not escaping—”

“You are fleeing from every member of Liyue Harbor who gives you a second glance, even if they genuinely wish you to stay.” Her eyes narrowed and she huffed. “On second thought I will say it bluntly. You are a coward.”

Childe’s lip curled and he shifted to a spear to knock hers away. “I suppose it takes one to know one!”

“You are the worst kind of coward,” she shot back. “A hypocrite.”

“That’s rich coming from you, Miss Eat-One-Bite-And-Abandon-The-Table."

“You see only what you wish of me.”

“And what makes you think you know anything more of me?”

“Because we are the same.”

Childe scoffed. “I don’t know what kind of compliment you think that is, but—"

“It isn’t a compliment. It is fact.” Shenhe shifted her attack, a quick swipe at his legs that he zipped away from again. “You run because you’re afraid.”

“I run because I’m sane enough to value my kneecaps.”

“I’m not referring to this fight. I speak of people. You fear what they think of you.”

Really? Childe wanted to roll his eyes but didn’t dare give that kind of opening. “I’m Fatui. Scandal and hate are just part of the lifestyle.”

“But it hurts you,” she insisted. “You’re unafraid to show apathy, but when those who matter approach you won’t even show that.”

“Just what about me is apathetic?” said Childe. “Seriously, who told you that lie and how sad are you to believe it?”

“Apathy to self,” said Shenhe. “What does anything matter when you’re just a weapon?”

Maybe it was a shot in the dark, but it stung.

“Do you think I’m any different?” Shenhe hissed. “Do you think that first time I came down from the mountain, when I found ruins and nothing but my father’s raving journal, that I was pleased? Do you think I stood in Liyue’s crowds and felt anything but alone?”

“That isn’t the same,” said Childe.

“How is it not?” she challenged.

“You have people desperate to have you back. I’ve seen your family combing the entire countryside just for the chance to speak with you again,” said Childe.

“You have people reaching for you, too,” said Shenhe. “That Zhongli—”

“Don’t say—”

“He searches for you with more zeal than all the exorcists who searched for me!” said Shenhe. 

With a snarl he hurled himself at her, and she met his charge. Their polearms caught, the two of them glowering at each other and locked in identical stances.

They were the same.

They were opposite.

They were mirrors.

“Don’t,” Childe snapped.

“Don’t what?” Shenhe’s breath fogged under the intensity of her element.  “You were angry that I had living relatives and selfishly said that I had everything without caring. Meanwhile you have people who wish to speak to you too, and you push them cruelly away. Do you not want those connections at all? Do you claim to be above them somehow?”

“Of course I want them,” he snarled. “I want so badly it might rip me apart!”

“Then why do you deny them now?” said Shenhe.

“Because I’ve had enough!” said Childe. “You’re right! I’m just a weapon for people to pick up and throw away whenever it’s convenient. I’ve tried reaching out to people and been rejected at every turn. But I’m not like you. I was never some poor little girl abandoned in a cave for three days. I’m a Snezhnayan who marinated in the Abyss itself—doubly hated! I’m no damsel. There’s nothing left here worth salvaging. So you’d better hope you’re nothing like me, or you’re in for a life of misery!”

He readied himself for the next bout—surely such a vehement rejection would annoy her—but it didn’t come. Shenhe gripped her polearm tighter, blinking furiously. Her eyes went sort of out of focus, and her expression broke from anger to perplexity.

“What—What is—” She felt at her face, at the frustrated tears that had started flowing, and made a disgruntled noise. “What did you do? What Hydro ability is this? Turn it off.”

Well, shit.

Childe forced himself to exhale all his own frustration and let his spear dissolve.

“We can’t keep going if you’re like that,” he muttered.

“What’s going on?” said Shenhe. She dismissed her weapon and put both hands to her eyes like she might be able to keep the tears in by force.

“I’m guessing you felt enough for it to get through the red threads,” said Childe.

“Make it stop,” she hiccupped.

Childe hesitated, then looped his arms around her. Shenhe stiffened.

“What are you doing?”

“It’s a hug.”

Shenhe contemplated this a moment before relaxing a little, and Childe tightened his grip in response. After a few moments more, she sagged entirely and threw her arms around him too.

“Ribs!” Childe wheezed, tapping her back quickly. “Too tight! Ribs!”

“Apologies,” said Shenhe, and dialed back her hug to a more reasonable strength. He was definitely going to bruise, though. Ouch.

With this their fight was well and truly over. For all his reputation as a villain Childe had no desire to beat up someone so distraught, and Shenhe wasn’t the type to try tricking him with crocodile tears. He was not a coward, though, and didn’t leave. It didn’t feel right anyway. They sat at the edge of the staged floor, feet dangling off the platform not unlike a couple of children at a fishpond, except instead of fish they were looking down at piles of countless mora. Childe kicked his feet, absently watching the way light shimmered over the coins not unlike the display of all those rocks waiting in his apartment. This gave Shenhe the privacy to regain control of her breathing and wipe away most of the tears. The last one froze into a perfect little orb of Cryo. She held it away, studying the ice like it might be some crystal ball.

“It felt longer than she said,” she whispered.

Childe closed his eyes and leaned back on his elbows. “Like three months in that cave, when they told you it was three days?”

“Exactly like that.” She turned to look at him, contemplative. “You were truly gone that long, though, weren’t you?”

Childe managed a slight shrug. “Nobody believed it.”

“That power under your skin, even under that Electro… it’s the Abyss, isn’t it?” said Shenhe.

“Was it that obvious?”

“Not to most, I think,” she murmured. “The Adepti wanted to be sure I had a wide range of understanding when it came to other powers so that I knew how to handle them. I’ve fought many beings from the Abyss, too. But you have a different feeling from the Abyss mages or other members of that order. You feel almost like…”

“Like?” he ventured, unsure if he wanted to know.

Shenhe was quiet for a moment, then said, “The Adepti say that the Abyss is a place where enemies of Celestia were cast down, and in the darkness they festered, ate themselves, and cultivated a hatred that became poisonous to everything it touched. The miasma and karmic debt that the Yaksha fought was but a shadow of that terrible power. I believe it is from the Abyss that my father summoned that evil god, and that creature… that is what you felt like yesterday, when you asked why I had the opportunity without caring about it.”

Childe’s blood ran cold. He had felt like a monster? He’d come face to face with Abyssal beasts before, and even the memory of them was horrifying.

“It wasn’t the same, though,” said Shenhe. “The feeling was similar, but the intent was different, and besides, you have the competing elements. You feel like the Abyss, defanged by Electro and wrapped up in cleansing Hydro, to the point of you not being malice at all. You are simply an Abyss dumpling.”

Childe wheezed. “A dumpling?”

“Or perhaps a rice ball,” said Shenhe.

“Neither of those sound right.”

Shenhe ignored him. “That strange power of yours was cultivated through that powerful grudge but has been made your own. It’s strange. The Abyss Order is far weaker, but their cultivation has kept the hate. How did you manage to leave its cycle?”

Childe laid back on the floor, fingers flexing nervously. “Intention probably had something to do with it. They wanted to destroy Teyvat. I don’t.”

“Then what is it you wanted?”

“To go home.”

Shenhe considered this for a long time. Slowly she laid down next to him, linking her hands together over her stomach as she stared up at the vaulted ceiling.

“I knew that my home was gone,” she whispered. “I felt it slipping for a long time. It started when my mother was sick. Even after her death I thought perhaps my father would look up from his studies and smile at me again, but that hope slipped away day by day. When he finally led me to that cave and summoned that evil god, he told me so calmly that everything was my fault and that the only way of repenting was to pay it back in my blood. And I was not surprised. I was hurt. Of course. But it was a logical conclusion to the way he’d been acting.”

Just as it had been the logical conclusion when Childe’s father, prioritizing his ‘normal’ children, would hand over a troublemaker to a group who would break the ‘bad habits’ out of him. Childe’s eyes stung, but he looked determinedly at the ceiling, too.

“I wondered if maybe he was right,” Shenhe continued, barely audible now. “If maybe I should just… let it happen.”

“Dying would mean not having to face the struggle,” Childe murmured. He’d been tempted a few times to give up while in the Abyss.

“But I was too afraid to die,” said Shenhe. “You were too, weren’t you?”

“I was,” said Childe. “But more than anything, I wanted to go back. I thought it would be okay if I died in the process, as long as I could make it back to my family. I didn’t want to die alone in the dark.”

Shenhe gave a small, wet laugh. “I didn’t have that. I only had the fear.”

“I’m sorry,” said Childe.

Shenhe brought a hand up to her face, as if reveling in the new tear slipping out of her eye. “There wasn’t any hope. I never— I never had that. It was just three straight days of thinking, I don’t want to die. I didn’t know where I’d go if I survived. I didn’t know if I’d make it out of that cave only to starve. Just… not yet. Not yet. There are some days when I wonder if I escaped that place at all.”

“Did it leave traces on you, too?” Childe guessed.

“Not physically,” said Shenhe. “But I haven’t… since then, I haven’t… There’s been no hope at all. After Cloud Retainer saved me, all I felt was misery and anger. The Adepti tried to save me from that negative energy by sealing me with red string, and after that I didn’t feel anything at all. I feel like a puppet going through motions.” She tipped her head to look at him. Her expression was still immovable, but her iridescent eyes were heavy with grief. “You were right when you said that I didn’t try, when I came to Liyue Harbor. Food. People. Everything. Cloud Retainer sent me here because she thought reconnecting with human society would be good for me. I know it’s because she worries that she and the Adepti can’t relate to me properly as a human, so she wanted me to gain friends and support from those like me. It is logical. It’s a kindness. I know she will be disappointed when she learns how little I’ve done, but I couldn’t bring myself to do anything. I can’t feel anything, after all. What if I ate that food and spoke to those people who were supposed to matter, and nothing changed? What if all those things that should have made me happy were as empty as everything else? I couldn’t bear the idea.”

“It sounds to me like you do have some hope, then,” Childe said quietly.

Shenhe’s brow furrowed. “What?”

“Thinking that maybe things can be better, and that you have potential to be happy. Isn’t that hope in itself?” said Childe.

“Is hope supposed to be so bitter?” said Shenhe.

Childe gave a mirthless snort. “For some people, maybe not. We aren’t so lucky.”

“How can you stand it?” asked Shenhe. “Hoping, and being disappointed?”

“I’m what you’d call a glutton for punishment,” he chuckled. Shenhe kept watching him, unamused. He sobered quickly and looked away. “There’s an old saying in the Fatui: give a starving dog a bone, and it’ll guard your home for the rest of its life.”

“You’re not a dog,” said Shenhe.

“It’s the same principle,” said Childe. “The Fatui welcomed me because they knew they could use me. Gave me a place to go and goals to meet. I can hope that my family will want me again, but when that falls through, I have duties to complete. I’ll fight, I’ll rack up some rewards, I’ll get an approving word from the Tsaritsa, and I’ll try to approach again, family will kick me out once more, and the cycle restarts. Because they did love me once, and I can’t forget that. I can’t let them go. They’ll tolerate me at a distance and take my money, so my dumb brain keeps hoping, you know? Kindness with ulterior motives is still more kindness than I’d ever get otherwise.”

“I don’t think I like your family,” said Shenhe.

Childe gracefully ignored that. “It’s easier if you can find something else to drive you beyond the hope. The Fatui’s pretty convenient for that, even if it lands me in bullshit like the Osial debacle. I’m still convinced someone else was supposed to take over and dropped the ball. I guess that’s what happens when a coworker dies.”

Shenhe closed her eyes and sighed. “I’m sorry it was the Fatui who took you in. If our places were switched…”

“There’s no use thinking about hypothetical futures,” said Childe.

“But I can be frustrated that the ones who found you did not love you,” said Shenhe. “I can only imagine what you would be, if someone like my master had been the one to find you instead.”

A part of him considered the idea. Wondered if in some alternate universe Cloud Retainer would have puffed herself up in pride to share his own childhood stories. It was a fantasy that could only hurt right now, so Childe pushed it away with a snort and said, “Didn’t we just cover this? If someone like your master found me, I’d have turned out like you.”

“I confess, that’s why I sought you out today. I knew you were similar to me and wanted to see just how much. I wanted to understand you, and perhaps myself in the process,” said Shenhe.

“Ha! I get it. A mirror is only good for your appearance, it’s other people who will reflect your person,” said Childe. “I meant what I said, though. I’m not like you.”

“But—”

Childe sat up again, avoiding her eyes. “We started in similar places but our actions since then are what define us, and those people we surround ourselves with are very different. You’ve been set up for success. A hard one, to be sure, but the people you want to reach out to understand where you came from and feel great empathy for you. You will be accepted. And maybe it’ll take some time for it to feel right or normal, but that’s how relationships go. It’s rare to be able to ease into them quickly. Sometimes the most precious and enduring ones have some hiccups along the way. And that’s okay. You’re going to make it.”

Shenhe exhaled slowly. “My master and the Traveler said as much. But I don’t think I would have trusted it from anyone but you.”

This was very sweet but also very weird. She really shouldn’t have trusted so easily. Luckily for her Childe wasn’t going to pounce on that blatant weakness. He stood and held out a hand.

“Come on. You have things you need to do, don’t you?”

She took his hand and let him heave her upright. “I do. Thank you for the spar.”

“No problem!” said Childe. “If you’re ever up for another round—” hopefully with no tears, “—by all means reach out! Such opportunities for battle are quite hard to come by, these days.”

They made for the door and Childe was feeling pretty good about this whole thing when Shenhe stopped just before the exit. She looked contemplative, and Childe slowed to match.

“Is something wrong?”

“I would like to propose a deal,” she said.

Childe rolled his eyes. “I wondered how long it would take you to start talking contracts…”

“I’m not asking for anything so formal,” said Shenhe. “Simply… to hold each other accountable.”

“That sounds foreboding,” said Childe.

“I had the opportunity to speak with Ningguang earlier,” said Shenhe. “In truth, the reason my master sent me to Liyue Harbor during the Jade Chamber contest is because I was meant to to contribute Adepti Sigils. I may not be an Adeptus myself, but I’ve been taught in their arts. Because of this, and because the Traveler had nothing to ask, Ningguang judged me to be one of the three winners. For my question… I asked if she thought I could ever fit in, in Liyue Harbor. She told me that Liyue Harbor is very inclusive, and as long as I respect the rules no one would turn me away. But she also said that the key is whether or not I myself could develop a sense of belonging. To feel fond of a place and feel part of it needs a reason. A person. An experience. An atmosphere. I simply need a reason to stay. She said she hoped I found one soon.”

“That’s… far kinder than I’d expect from the Tianquan,” said Childe. Certainly, if he’d asked her the same question she’d have scoffed and told him to board a boat immediately.

“It perplexed me,” said Shenhe. “After you and I talked, though, I think I better understand it. I can belong. I simply must allow it to happen.”

Childe perked up. “See? I’m not spouting nonsense after all if the Tianquan agrees—”

“I believe it goes the same for you,” said Shenhe.

He sighed. “I just told you…”

“The contract,” she interrupted. “I propose that we both give ourselves permission to belong.”

“Shenhe—”

“Permission alone,” she insisted. “I don’t intend to force your hand otherwise. But as you said it may take time, and this is the first and most crucial step. If you truly believe that I can belong in this place, then the same must be true of you. So, we will both give ourselves permission and rely on each other if we have doubts. Is that agreeable?”

Childe shook his head in exasperation. “You know what? Sure.”

“Really?” said Shenhe, surprised by how fast he’d given in.

“Yeah. But only permission, right now,” said Childe.

After all, if this gave Shenhe the confidence to reach out that would save Childe a lot of annoyance, and she and everyone she knew would be much happier. As a man who honored all promises he would of course play along, but he wasn’t laboring under any misconception that it would work for him. She didn’t have to know that right now, though. 

Shenhe smiled. It was small but completely broke the unfeeling mask of her expressions up to this point. “That is all I ask.”

They parted ways just outside the Golden House.

Shenhe moved off toward the hotels near the construction site. Presumably the Traveler was there and waiting with dinner; the sky had gone dark, so it was certainly late enough. They’d probably sit down to eat together and feel very clever and accomplished about everything going their way.

As for Childe… Well. He had some very fancy rocks waiting for him, didn’t he? Probably some paperwork, too. And tired, frustrated coworkers.

Ugh.

He trudged back into the harbor and toward the Fatui quarters. As he crossed the bridge Anemo shivered through the air, and he found himself facing Xiao for a third time that day. This time neither of them said anything. Childe set his hands on his hips and cocked his head in silent challenge. Xiao’s hands flexed in and out of fists. Eventually he huffed and disappeared.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Childe scoffed.

He walked the rest of the way to the Fatui building without trouble but when he entered, he found everyone inside torn between panic and exasperation.

“What happened now?” he groaned.

“We may have found your secret admirer’s identity,” said Felix, leaning out of the same room they’d used as a meeting chamber that morning.

Childe went to join him and looked into the room. A Geochanter was sitting on the couch, looking dazedly off into space while a Hydrogunner checked him over for injuries and a Pyroslinger stood by with his head in his hands.

“It seems like Pyotr here was kidnapped last night,” said Felix. “He and his friend were out drinking. Their shifts started late today so no one noticed his absence, and when he failed to appear it was assumed that he was struggling with a hangover. Unfortunately, it turns out that he was abducted shortly after he and his friend parted ways.”

Someone kidnapped one of his men?

Oh, hell no.

The anger that had faded surged anew. Childe turned his sharpened gaze on Felix and said, “Who?”

The tone made everyone tense, except…

“Yelan,” Pyotr sighed.

Sighed. Like a lovestruck maiden.

“You idiot!” the Pyroslinger mumbled into his hands. “You massive idiot—”

“Yelan?” Childe echoed, stepping closer. “And what did she want from you?”

“She tied me to a chair,” said Pyotr, dreamy.

Childe faltered. “She… tied you to a chair.”

“And stepped on me.”

It was hard to make out expressions under the bandage mask, but damn. He was completely besotted. Childe could understand being attracted to power but this was a little much. He glanced at the Hydrogunner, but the other man just looked embarrassed.

“He’s a little roughed up, but light bruising’s really the extent of his injuries,” said the Hydrogunner. “You keep too close an eye on your people, my lord. She wouldn’t risk your retaliation by harming him too badly.”

“But she did kidnap him,” said Childe.

“It was great,” said Pyotr.

“It pisses me off,” said Childe. “Pyotr. Look at me. What did you tell her?”

“I said her eyes are beautiful,” said Pyotr.

“Oh, Tsaritsa,” cried the Pyroslinger, throwing his hands up in the air. “My lord, he’s being a fool right now but he gave me a full report when I found him. Practically a word for word account of the night.” He looked like the memory gave him great pain. “To summarize, she knocked him out, took him to a windowless office where he woke up tied to the chair, and then proceeded with nonviolent intimidation tactics. She said something about knowing what games we were playing and that her patience ran out. When she saw the reaction she was getting from him she leaned into that as a tactic and he spilled all the details about that Kliment guy’s godly treasure hunting, which doesn’t matter because Kliment’s a dumbass who can’t so much as dig up a cabbage, plus he went to Sal Terrae with the Traveler and Mister Zhongli who are both on the Qixing’s watchlist already, so there’s no way Yelan didn’t already know those things. When she wasn’t satisfied with that, he rambled about how some more idiots in Mondstadt tried allying with the Lawrence Clan for some kind of hostile takeover bid and how mad you were that they’d tried something so pointless and doomed to fail anyway, except that’s already been shut down too, and the Knights of Favonius knew it, therefore their allies the Qixing already knew it, too. He just covered things that they already solidly knew until Yelan got tired of it, knocked him out again, and dumped him.”

“Sweet Tsaritsa,” Childe muttered, shaking his head.

“When he mentioned you, she’d tried to dig for more information on you specifically,” said the Pyroslinger. “He gave her the extremely valuable secret that you have a Hydro vision.”

All eyes in the room went to the Hydro vision on Childe’s belt, made all the more obvious by the way his uniform coat fell open at the bottom and revealed a sizable triangle of skin just above that vision.

Felix coughed to pull the others’ attention away again. “If Yelan has an interest in your movements, it’s entirely possible that she could be the person gifting you those stones. She was stationed at the Chasm for a while, therefore having access to these rare and expensive ores, while having the Qixing’s budget to assist. Having a vision of her own she would be able to track down starsplinter iron. She and her team are well versed in stealth, break-ins, and information gathering, so it’s very possible that the ‘admirer’s’ mysterious gifting method is a result of their tactics. The stones could have been left as a kind of distraction to mislead us. Otherwise it’s possible that Yelan is monitoring what you do with the stones to trap you in some kind of scheme: fraud or theft accusations, selling without a merchant’s license… The possibilities are endless.”

Childe had seen Yelan exactly once: she’d been sitting at a table at the Yansheng Tea House, watching the passersby on the street; he’d only known it was her because she was absentmindedly doing a little hand trick with a pair of dice, and more importantly she was wearing the mantle of whitesilk fur that had originally been meant as a robe for the Tsaritsa herself.

Pantalone had thrown such a fit over losing that.

He’d bragged about it so much that Childe had quietly wished something would go wrong, and when it did he was torn between elation (finally, an ego check) and mortification (of all things to lose, the Tsaritsa’s gift!).

Yelan’s grudge seemed to be with Pantalone specifically, but to most outsiders the Fatui seemed like a monolith; she might’ve decided that messing with any harbinger would satisfy her. How annoying!

“If she wants information on me, she should just kidnap me directly and be done with it,” Childe grumbled.

“My lord, you’re much too big a fish for that,” said Felix.

“A fish is a fish is a fish!” said Childe.

“Yes, but she’s also well aware that you’d try to gut her before she got any useful information from you, and you’re significantly more trouble to contain than a standard skirmisher,” said Felix.

“Not to mention how the Tsaritsa would react,” said the Hydrogunner, paling.

“Yelan is not an idiot, and kidnapping you is an idiot plan,” said Felix.

“Do you think she’d kidnap me again?” said Pyotr.

They all ignored him.

“Is everything falling apart for you again, Lord Harbinger?”

Childe stilled and aimed his sharpest smile at the door. “Ah, Yusupov. Here I thought you were out doing your slimy little diplomat act somewhere in Yujing Terrace today.”

For most of the world the Fatui did seem like a monolith, grouped together with their citizens and government officials, but this was not actually the case. The military detachment and the diplomats were not the same thing. Diplomats could order around military personnel, but in most cases the two sides distrusted each other. In some delegations they hated each other, which got their plans bungled more often than not, and in Liyue Harbor it was worse than usual. To say that Childe was a standard-bearer was putting it lightly—he was a Harbinger, didn’t treat the people he worked with like shit, and had worked his way up through the ranks so was generally empathetic with their plight—so the Fatui fighters were loath to leave his command. It practically took a crowbar to peel enough away for any of the diplomats’ shenanigans, because suddenly Childe was supposed to approve any troop allocations (and he didn’t hate Liyue, so he vetoed anything that seemed cruel beyond reason; why were these diplomats even crazier than he was about conquering the world, and with so much less honor, too?), or there was too much paperwork to be bothered with, or there were ‘coincidentally’ new debts to gather… Yeah. The actual diplomats hated Childe, and Childe hated them right back.

One of Childe’s absolute least favorite of the diplomats was Yusupov: grayed beyond his years with a near permanent sneer, the man even spoke like the villain of a children’s stage performance. When people raved about how all of the Fatui were evil, surely Yusupov was the image in their mind.

“Not to worry, my lord,” Yusupov said smugly. “You may have destroyed Shenzhnaya’s influence in Liyue, but I will be rectifying that shortly.”

He swanned out of the building with a conceited laugh.

“Where is he going? What is he doing? It’s something stupid, isn’t it?” said Childe. “Theofan!”

There was a clatter, and then Theofan, another member of the embassy, stuck his head out of another room. “Yes, my lord?”

“You’re pretending to be his second in command, right?” said Childe. “Make sure that whatever this is doesn’t get tied back to the embassy. If this has to blow up, make sure it shows as a rogue operation.”

“I’m already working on it, sir,” said Theofan.

“Good,” said Childe. “I doubt Pantalone would like this blowing up any more than I do.”

It was not a secret that Theofan was one of Pantalone’s subordinates, not Childe’s. As part of the Fatui’s clear favoritism and his own straightforwardness, Childe was aware of all the spies from the other Harbingers among his number. He didn’t care about them much as long as they didn’t interfere with what he was doing and most seemed to have picked up on that. When Theofan had first arrived, he’d gone straight up to Childe and told him point blank that he was Pantalone’s spy; Childe had shrugged and said, “Cool. Give me a heads up if there’s some operation of his that I’m not supposed to be stepping in.” And that was it. Most of the ‘spies’ in his ranks tended to work as double agents, just as happy to feed him information about their masters as they were to report his own movements.

“Of course, sir,” said Theofan. “I would also like you to know that I’ll likely be returning to Lord Pantalone once the operation is complete.”

“So long as you’re not leaving loose ends, that’s fine by me,” said Childe.

“Thank you, sir,” said Theofan with a bow. “I’ve already delegated my tasks to other members of the department so everything will continue to run smoothly for you. I’ll be off, now.”

“I wish you glorious victory, for Snezhnaya and yourself,” said Childe.

“To you as well, my lord,” said Theofan, and left in a hurry.

Childe rubbed at his temples, fighting back a headache as he turned back to the room. “Where were we?”

“Just wrapping up I think, my lord,” said Felix said carefully, and the others started looking shifty, too.

Childe scowled. “We were very far from being done—"

“We wished to update you on our knowledge, but any further steps require the proper research,” said Felix. “We will investigate to ensure that any actions taken are done correctly. We wouldn’t want to waste more of your time with mere conjectures, after all, so we’ll report to you once it’s all compiled. Until then you should get some rest.”

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing,” said Childe.

Felix radiated innocence. “And what would that be, my lord?”

“Getting rid of me,” Childe scoffed. “I’ll bet you want me to just go upstairs and go to bed.”

“And sleep well,” said the Pyroslinger.

“And remember to eat dinner!” said the Hydrogunner.

“And dream of Yelan,” Pyotr sighed. The Pyroslinger whacked him over the head.

Felix ignored them all. “A well rested Harbinger is the most formidable one, my lord. The men look forward to seeing you at your best.”

“Of course. My best, for no reason,” said Childe.

“None whatsoever,” said Felix. “We will bring our findings to Nadia and Vlad to coordinate. Ekaterina has taken control of the Inazuma situation but we’ll keep her up to date with our findings as well. Please  be patient with us, and we’ll bring you our results as quickly as possible.”

Childe rolled his eyes. “Yeah, sure, whatever. Goodnight and don’t get kidnapped again, or I’ll have to drag you back here myself.”

He went up to his own room and took a deep, calming breath. So much bullshit today. So very much bullshit. But at least he didn’t have to worry about it for the rest of the evening. He made a simple dinner, took some time to relax, and as the night grew deeper and the hotel quieter he finally shuffled off to bed.

He dreamed about the ocean. In the dream he was walking a beach, the same rocky shoreline he recognized from childhood. Yes, that particular stack of stones was near Morepesok. When he was small and his parents brought them all to town, his siblings would scatter for their own amusements and Childe would be left alone pretending to be a mighty warrior patrolling the border with a trusty sword made of driftwood. That stack of stone had once served as his watchtower. It all fell neatly into place in his memory… but the cold was not there. Was it strange for a dream to be missing it? Snezhnaya’s chill was all-encompassing, after all. But it wasn’t the only thing wrong. There, in the sand: a starconch. The only starconches in Snezhnaya were the ones he sent home. It shouldn’t be there. But he picked it up—so, so blue, the star in its swirl glowing like the stars of the Abyss—and held it to his ear.

Permission, it whispered.

That resonated a little too well with his day and startled him awake. His eyes fluttered open, and he saw… a scaly snout.

All dregs of tiredness fled from him in an instant. Childe reared back with a snarl, automatically forming watery daggers with his vision. The culprit moved just as fast, coiling away from him in the air. It took a moment for him to realize it was a dragon: a dark brown dragon, with a golden mane and tailtip, curving horns and spines down its back glowing like cor lapis. It was Rex Lapis. An itty-bitty Rex Lapis the size of a housecat, which had been stealthily placing another starconch on his pillow.

“Zhongli?” Childe spluttered. “What are you— Where did you—”

Zhongli flicked his tail and stared him down with luminous eyes. It was intimidating even from such a small form; when he’d been a full-sized dragon, had the Qixing shook under his gaze at the Rite of Descension? For a moment the air was heavy with potential, as if the ex-Archon was about to breathe some prophecy into being right now… but instead, he said simply, “Good evening,” and zoomed for the window.

“Oh no you don’t!” Childe hissed, and his daggers immediately shifted to the form of a bow.

Childe wasn’t great at using bow and arrows, but the short blasts of Hydro energy had Zhongli ducking away just long enough that Childe beat him to the window and pulled it shut, right before he could make his escape. Zhongli stopped so fast he bunched up in the air and eyed him ruefully. If he really wanted to get out, he could—there was a door on the other side of the room, and he had power enough to bring down the whole building on a whim—but he stayed floating in place.

“My apologies for waking you,” he said.

“What are you doing here?” Childe demanded.

Zhongli’s eyes went to the starconch and then back to Childe’s face. “I believe that is a trick question.”

“Why are you here?” said Childe.

“…I believe that is a trick—”

“Zhongli,” Childe growled.

Zhongli was quiet a moment, then said, “They are gifts.”

“Gifts,” Childe repeated. “Gifts that you’re just breaking into my office and my home to leave around?”

Zhongli curled up a little tighter. “I did not intend to make you uncomfortable. I wanted to be sure you saw them, as my earlier, more distant attempts seemed to have been missed or otherwise carried off by the wrong people. I could not be sure that you had ignored them purposefully, so determined they must be secure and visible instead.”

Childe rubbed at his face, feeling very tired. “Why are you even leaving gifts in the first place?”

“Barbatos has informed me that I have, quote, fucked up,” said Zhongli.

Childe coughed out a laugh. “Really?”

“Yes,” said Zhongli. “I would not normally condone such phrasing, but upon reflection I suspect that it gets the truth across in a more vivid and truthful manner than I was originally comfortable with.”

For another moment he was silent; then he apparently decided that the topic required a little more gravitas than his current shape provided and shifted. In an instant, instead of the dragon it was Zhongli’s human form standing there with eyes downcast. Childe forced himself not to react, but… he was close. Really close.

“Barbatos is far more in tune with humanity than the rest of the Archons,” said Zhongli. “He is a flighty and fickle creature, but when it comes to the hearts of the people under his protection he rarely errs. When I told him what had transpired in Liyue over the past few months, he in addition called me ‘a blockhead god with all intelligence but no sense,’ and insisted that I come under his tutelage at the next Windblume festival, as I am otherwise ‘hopeless.’”

“Harsh,” Childe chuckled.

“I do not think so,” said Zhongli. “He confirmed my many transgressions against you.”

Childe’s grin faltered. “Oh, really.”

He didn’t really want to talk about this. Not at some ungodly hour of the night or morning, anyway. Unfortunately Zhongli had decided to get this over with, because he met Childe’s eyes now and spoke more firmly:

“I have wronged you in many ways. I withheld information from you due to my contract with your Tsaritsa, which impacted you on a professional and personal level. I have stolen from you your time, your money, and your reputation. I cannot say that I regret the contract, as it allowed me the retirement I had been hoping for and granted Liyue some measure of safety against my own erosion… but the steps taken, and what effect it had on you, I do feel remorse for that. I should have mitigated the backlash. I should have directed you to leads for your mission sooner. I should have been more honest with you. I became… complacent in your company. I did not actively undermine the contract, but likewise I did not push for it because I didn’t like the idea of you leaving at its end. In retrospect I have been little more than a leech. I did nothing to deserve your goodwill and everything to earn your scorn. For this I am truly sorry. These gifts—” he gestured at the starconch, “are meant as an apology, reparations, and an invitation of reunion. It is a long way from earning back all the mora you spent on me, but I must start somewhere.”

…Huh.

Childe hadn’t anticipated him being so straightforward about this. Then again, he was Geo-aligned—steady and honest—and an unshakeable martial god on top of that. Of course he would tackle his problems head on if he had the chance. It was somewhat relieving to know that Zhongli normally operated in a way he understood, instead of the backstabbing route of the other Harbingers. Childe reviewed the words in his mind, picking out the more important bits.

“A reunion,” he checked.

“If it so pleases you,” said Zhongli.

This was… a lot. Childe rubbed at his head with one hand, trying to come to terms with it all. Zhongli seemed to take this silence as a rejection; his head ducked slightly, voice quieter and heavier.

“I understand if there has been too much between us. After having wronged you so much, the last thing I wish to do now is trouble you. Only say the word, and I will keep my distance from you. I can leave right now if you wish.”

The idea sent a spike of anguish through Childe’s chest. He rubbed harder, free hand coming up to cover his face, too.

For three months his heart and brain had been in a tug of war over Zhongli. He was desperate to see him again. Frothing with hate. Hurt. Bitter. Wanting. The easy route would be to reject him again. With Zhongli gone Childe could try building back up the shield around his heart, but… hadn’t he already had three months to do that in, with no result? He was still crashing and burning as soon as Zhongli appeared, and with the conversation he’d had with Shenhe…

Permission.

“No,” he croaked. He stepped back and collapsed onto his bed again, both hands over his face now to hide the grimace. “No, that’s… Not that. Please, not that.”

There was a soft, questioning rumble. Zhongli knelt before him and rested a hand on one of Childe’s knees, trying to coax him into looking up.

“Childe? Childe, look at me. What is it that you need? I will do anything you request of me. Simply name it, and I will do anything in my power.”

“Don’t say that,” said Childe.

“Why should I not?” said Zhongli. “I wouldn’t make the offer if I were not sure of my intentions.”

“I’ll ask for more than you can give,” said Childe.

“Try me,” said Zhongli.

He was acting dumb on purpose, wasn’t he? Anger and embarrassment clawed again at Childe’s throat, but he swallowed it down. Took a deep breath. Embraced it. Exhaled and let it go. He opened his eyes to look miserably at Zhongli from between his fingers.

“You are everything I’ve ever wanted,” he whispered.

Zhongli blinked in surprise, and Childe promptly covered his eyes again. He couldn’t take it. He couldn’t bear to see discomfort or disgust from Zhongli the way he’d always seen from his family. But it was stupidly late at night and he was sitting on the edge of his bed in his pajamas with an Archon at his feet and a hoard of expensive rock gifts around them, and it was already such a surreal situation he couldn’t keep the rest of the words in. He just… fell apart.

“It’s dumb. I know. It’s so fucking dumb. But you’re just— How can you be so perfect? You hit every standard. You’re hot. And you’re a warrior god, so you could probably kick my ass in a fight and I’d thank you for it, and I’m so tempted to take the Traveler up on her commission invitations because I’m desperate to see you in action. I bet you could make decapitating a hilichurl look like art, or something. And you’re so smart. It’s no wonder you know so much when you’ve lived so long, and maybe you talk about some boring things, but the way you talk, it never feels boring. I can hear how much you genuinely care about all these inconsequential things, and… and I guess that’s what six thousand years of love for your country sounds like, and it sounds amazing. And I loved listening to it. and—” Shame and embarrassment was rising in his throat, threatening to choke him. Childe’s fingers curled, nails digging into his forehead as his voice became a whisper. “And I… have always loved stories. You’re the ultimate warrior-storyteller. The best of everything I value. Your only flaw I can pick out is how you never have your damn mora with you, which makes no sense because you’re Morax, how can that even be possible? But I liked that anyway, because it made me feel like there was a place for me to belong in that picture. With—with you. I know that’s not the case. It’s dumb. I’m just one foreign mortal in your six thousand years of life, maybe a blink in your existence, and you’ve probably seen hundreds of people like me during that time. It’s inconsequential at this point. But for now… for just a little bit longer… please don’t leave again.”

For a long moment there was silence. Childe was starting to debate the merits of turning into a Hydro orb to flee again, and jolted when gloved fingers wrapped around his own.

“It is true, there have been many people like you before,” Zhongli murmured. “Gods, humans, and all in between. They have been proud, strong, clever… but none of them had ever captured my attention, or taken the time to know me.” Gently, he pulled one of Childe’s hands away from his face. “None of them changed the course of my life by freeing me from my godly chains.” The other hand too he pulled away, even if Childe put up a halfhearted resistance. “In none of those men had I ever seen an equal who understood me in those ways even Adepti struggled to, and hoped that perhaps they could become a harbor for my own soul.”

He squeezed both of Childe’s hands, then released them to cup Childe’s face instead. His eyes were so warm, so gold, radiant with the same affection that bled through the richness of his voice. Childe found himself leaning in subconsciously, craving more even when it was supposed to be impossible.

“A heart of stone is a heart nonetheless, and you have made mine beat faster ever since your arrival in Liyue,” said Zhongli. “For thousands of years I lived in the past. Even when predicting at the Rite of Descension and in guiding my people, my thoughts strayed always to what was already gone. I was consumed by it. The idea of retirement brought to mind the secession of my burdens, but it always felt to me like an end. I had no plan beyond fading into the background and observing. But then I met you, and now I find myself looking forward again. The loss of my gnosis was not an end but the beginning of a new chapter in my life, and even those things I have long loved are revitalized. When I pass Hanfeng Ironmongers, I think not only of the storied history of its blacksmiths, but also of the time you presented Master Zhang with so much cor lapis and requested a weapon made from that, and then grew frustrated when no forging diagrams would accommodate it.”

“I— Well, in Inazuma they make weapons from amethyst, and that’s nowhere near as impressive as cor lapis,” Childe muttered, flushing.

Zhongli simply smiled. “When I sit down to a meal I remember your first reaction to Jueyun chilis. Likewise, your first few interactions with Xiangling’s experiments were so memorable, almost as endearing as your excuses to avoid them now that you’ve grown savvy to her tactics.”

Childe tried to duck his flaming head but Zhongli’s hands made that difficult. “What is this, embarrass Childe hour?”

“When I pass by shops with toys, I remember how avidly you speak about your siblings, and the care you show when picking out souvenirs. When you speak of what you love, I can hear it in your tone. I could spend millennia listening to your laughter. And when I see the glaze lilies of Yujing Terrace, I am reminded not only of dear departed friends, but also of that time you sang so quietly to that blossom among the bamboo…”

Oh, Archons, no.

“You heard that?” Childe whined.

“I did,” Zhongli chuckled. “I was quite charmed. I hope you will share with me the rest of the song, for I’m afraid I wasn’t familiar with it.”

Childe groaned and tried to turn away, but Zhongli gently steered him back to look eye to eye.

“What I mean to say is that I miss your presence everywhere I go,” he said. “In those times when I am alone, I wonder to myself how you would react to the entertainment nearby. I wonder how much better the experience would be if you were there by my side. My selfish wish is that, now that my responsibilities as an Archon are over, I might spend more time in your company. You are a singularity, and I adore you.”

That— That couldn’t be right. This was a dream. He hadn’t woken up yet.

“You’re lying,” Childe said hoarsely.

“I assure you, I am not,” said Zhongli. “If anyone should be asked to stay… it is I who must beg it of you. Stay with me, Childe. There is no need for you to look for some role to play in order to belong. Your existence alone is all I wish for.”

Childe stared at him, searching for any sign of deceit. He found none. Zhongli looked entirely earnest.

Could it be true?

He decided, suddenly, that he didn’t care. He had no pride to salvage, he has stupidly in love with this man, and everything he wanted was being offered right here on a silver platter. He was not going to self-sabotage anymore.

So, he did the next best thing.

He flung himself off the bed and into the surprised ex-Archon’s lap, throwing his arms around him. He kissed with clumsy, bruising enthusiasm, but Zhongli caught him and steered it into something slow and comforting. It was great, but part of Childe’s brain was still screaming over how inconceivable this all was. He clutched at Zhongli’s lapels and whined, and felt the other man’s smile.

“Is that a yes?” Zhongli laughed, and kissed him again.

“Yes,” Childe gasped between kisses. “Yes, yes, yes—"

Zhongli held him tigher and holy shit, yeah, this man is not human, but that Adeptus strength was so confusingly soothing that Childe was overwhelmed with it. He pressed his face into Zhongli’s shoulder, squeezing his eyes tight against the emotions building up in his chest. Wow, he really had no idea what to do with those when they weren’t anger. He took a rattling breath and asked, “If this is how you really feel, why were you gone for so long?”

“The Adepti advised me that I should give you space to process the events,” said Zhongli. “We… may have overestimated the timing on that.”

“How long were they telling you to wait?”

“Mountain Shaper was adamant that I wait at least ten years.”

Most of the confusingly bubbly feelings evaporated right then and there. Childe reeled back and spluttered, “Ten years?”

“It did seem excessive.” Zhongli nodded along like this was only mildly unreasonable instead of complete abandonment. “He was speaking from his own experience, of course, though it has been closer to one hundred years now and Cloud Retainer has still not forgiven him for breaking that invention of hers. I believe she had referred to it as a ‘toaster’…”

“Ten years, though?” cried Childe.

“The other Adepti are unfortunately not so in tune with the passage of time as humanity understands it,” said Zhongli, going just a little pink. “Regrettably, even I have my mistakes in that regard… I certainly wasn’t going to wait a decade, though. The very idea seemed torturous. But likewise, I had already transgressed against you and had no wish to pressure you further. I resolved instead to wait until you seemed amenable to reconciliation. The gifts were meant to speed the process, but when Cloud Retainer shared that you had asked her about me, I thought perhaps that was my sign.”

Childe shook his head, amused and exasperated. In retrospect, of course that all made sense. “I wondered why so many Adepti were so lenient with me…”

“You’ve won many of them over,” Zhongli chuckled. “Cloud Retainer especially. She was very suspicious of you at first, but after your conversation she now sings your praises and needles me about treating you right. Madame Ping and Yanfei also made a point of giving their approval.”

Childe snorted. “Not Xiao, though, I’m guessing.”

“Xiao takes time to warm up to anyone. But if Cloud Retainer expresses her favor for you, I’m sure Xiao will come around too,” said Zhongli.

“It’s no skin off my back if he doesn’t,” Childe quipped. “Who knows, if he doesn’t like me maybe it’ll be easier to get a fight out of him.”

“Please do not antagonize my last Yaksha,” said Zhongli.

“Maybe I won’t have to. Maybe I can get another worthy opponent to fight me in his stead,” said Childe. “What do you think? Do I have a chance at fighting Morax himself?”

Zhongli grinned, something a little too sharp and sly for his regular consultant persona, and said, “I think that can be arranged.”

“Good! That was the main goal on my list of things to do in Liyue, whether the Tsaritsa wanted it or not,” Childe laughed. But then he sobered. “Speaking of which… Can I ask you about your contract with her?”

Zhongli’s hands tensed on his waist, only for a moment before he forcibly relaxed.

“You may,” Zhongli said slowly, “but I am very limited in what I can answer. I cannot share some of the important details, per the rules of the contract itself. As the god of contracts I am utterly bound by it. No matter how much I wish to share it with you, some information I am physically incapable of giving.”

“I understand,” said Childe. “Really I’m only interested in my role, because it’s been bugging me. Why is it that I was left out of the loop at all, when even other Harbingers knew what was going on?”

Zhongli’s shoulders slumped just a little with relief; clearly this was something he could speak on.

“As I understand from the Tsaritsa, it was a matter of your efficiency. You seem to tailor your fights depending on who or what you’re facing, especially if civilians are involved. If you had been told that this was a test for the people of Liyue, you would have set up a challenge a human would be expected to overcome. They would have succeeded, but my worries would not have been eased. When you were told to fight the oldest of the Archons, you wholeheartedly threw yourself into the greatest challenge you could think of, something that could bring down gods. It was the overwhelming odds that I’d feared. The Tsaritsa couldn’t trust any other of her Harbingers to set that stage and set it so well.”

Oh. Well. That soothed some of the hurt he’d been carrying around for three months. It hadn’t been a mistake; the Tsaritsa trusted him.

“I am sorry for the deception,” Zhongli murmured. “Per the contract, none of us were to share with you your purpose or my identity until the test was completed. I had agreed to those terms long before I met you, and at every dinner I wished I could be honest—”

“Hey, don’t worry about it. I told you, I understand,” said Childe. “Your contracts are some of the things I like best about you. Where I come from, we’re really big on promises. And what’s a contract, if not another word for promise?”

Zhongli blinked at him. Slowly, he started to smile, and it was small and warm and Childe had to avert his gaze to keep from doing anything embarrassing.

“Then I would like to make a promise to you, Childe,” said Zhongli. “Is that permitted?”

“What? Uh, sure?” said Childe.

By habit he held out his pinky finger, and Zhongli wrapped his own around it.

“Childe… I would like to make you a promise that from here on I will be forthright with you, and that I will cherish you. You are precious to me, and I never want to have such misunderstandings in our way again. Is this acceptable?”

“I—well—” Childe coughed, embarrassed. “I appreciate that, but really, you don’t have to do any promises about… cherishing. Not for me. I really don’t deserve—”

“You are infinitely deserving of care, and I consider myself lucky to be in such a position to offer it,” Zhongli interrupted. “This promise is not a chore to me, Childe. Please do not think that I offer this for any reason beyond my own affections.”

Childe swallowed a lump in his throat. “Then— yeah. Yeah, okay.”

“Then the promise is made,” said Zhongli. “I have heard from the Traveler that there is a Snezhnayan rhyme to fully establish this? I believe she heard it from your brother.”

Childe’s face went redder than his hair. “We really don’t have to!”

“If it is important to you, I would like to indulge,” said Zhongli.

Ugh, this man… Childe ducked his head in embarrassment but recited, “You make a pinkie promise, you keep it all your life. You break a pinkie promise, I throw you on the ice. The cold will kill the pinkie that once betrayed your friend, the frost will freeze your tongue off so you never lie again.”

Zhongli nodded his approval and said, “Additionally, should I break this promise I will also suffer the wrath of the rock.”

“Isn’t that a little overkill?” Childe laughed.

“Perhaps, but it seems fitting to invoke both Snezhnayan and Liyuean tradition in this case,” said Zhongli. His eyes had gone brighter, shining almost like lamps in the dark room, but it was by no means threatening. They crinkled at the corners with fondness as he brought a hand up to trace Childe’s face again. “That is my promise for the future. For now, though… For now, may I hold you? For just a little while longer.”

Childe huffed out a laugh. He closed his eyes and pressed his cheek against Zhongli’s palm.

“Yeah. You can hold me for as long as you want.”

Chapter Text

When Childe woke it was to the feeling of fingers running through his hair.

Any Fatuus worth their salt would immediately be on edge, but he was not. On any other day he’d have blamed the many shiny rocks for getting him used to such a heavy Geo presence, but right now… why even bother with the posturing? He opened his eyes with a smile on his face.

“You stayed.”

“I did,” said Zhongli.

They’d both ended up on the bed. Childe had gone under the blanket to sleep while Zhongli (an Adeptus with a much lower need for such things) had sat on top of those blankets and leaned against the headboard. How long his hand had been buried in Childe’s hair and worsening his bedhead was a mystery, but Childe couldn’t bring himself to care. He shifted closer and hummed, “Are you free for breakfast?”

“If breakfast is very soon, yes,” said Zhongli. He ran his thumb against Childe’s brow and Childe fought the urge to melt; judging by Zhongli’s dumb little smile, he could tell.  “Regrettably, Hu Tao has set up an early consultation this morning. Were you thinking of anything specific you’d like to eat?”

“Anything’s fine,” said Childe. “Maybe if we leave through the window we’ll have time to sit down at Wanmin and—” A knock sounded at the bedroom door and he slumped. “…And that’s a no.”

He pushed himself up, stretched with a wince, and called, “Who is it?”

“Felix, sir,” came the muffled response. “Ekaterina has finished compiling the Inazuma information and wished to present it to you as quickly as possible. I also have several Geochanters ready to inspect any new ‘gifts’ that may have appeared overnight.”

“Give me a minute,” said Childe. He slumped against Zhongli’s side again. “Are there going to be any more rock presents today?”

“Your subordinates sound invested in the topic. Will they be disappointed if there aren’t?” Zhongli chuckled.

“Absolutely devastated,” said Childe.

“Then it would be cruel of me to deprive them of conversation.”

Zhongli held up one hand. The stones around them began to glitter as more Geo concentrated itself above his palm. It felt like being on the edge of a whirlpool with the might of the ocean dragging to its middle, but… different. Like aggressive quicksand? Whatever the case, it was disorienting. Childe had to brace one hand against Zhongli’s shoulder as the energy coalesced into physical form. He’d chosen noctilucous jade, but not a simple one. As Zhongli’s fingers flexed the forming stone changed color, curving, warping… until it had created a starconch made entirely out of jade, complete with stripes and lustrous star in the center.

“Archons,” Childe whispered. “Did you really just—”

“We are fortunate in that I had already planned and practiced the formation of this construct, otherwise it would’ve taken far longer,” said Zhongli, but despite the words he preened under the attention. “I’d hoped to present it if you’d accepted the natural shell from yesterday. Do you like it?”

“It’s amazing!” Childe picked it up. It was smooth, impossibly all a single piece, and he could still feel the wild buzzing Geo of its creation against his skin. “Does it speak like the shells do?”

“You will have to tell me,” said Zhongli.

Childe grinned. “Thank you,” he whispered into Zhongli’s ear, and kissed his cheek. This was call of the sea enough for Zhongli to huff out a laugh.

“Sir?” Felix called from the door.

“Coming!” Childe called again, and crawled out of bed. “Yeah, no breakfast. Maybe dinner instead? We could do dinner.”

“I look forward to it,” said Zhongli. “You’re still interested in Wanmin?”

Childe scoffed. “When am I not?”

“Then I will meet you there tonight. Until then, be well.”

And Zhongli dissolved. In another ridiculous Adeptus display, he shifted into a shimmering cloud of Geo; it swirled playfully around him and then out of the ajar window, which closed and locked itself in his wake. So that was how he’d done it!

“Sir?” called one of the Geochanters, clearly concerned by that sudden elemental intensity.

Chuckling to himself, Childe went to open the door.

“It’s fine, comrades,” he said, holding up the jade starconch. “This right here is the most recent little gift.”

Felix and the Geochanters gaped. One of the Geochanters raised a hand as if to touch it but stopped short.

“Holy sweet Tsaritsa.”

“Is that jade? Archons, I think that’s one big piece of noctilucous jade…”

“But that isn’t possible!”

“My lord,” said Felix, voice calm but face in a grimace, “I think… it is safe to say that your secret admirer may not be human. Or at least, that they are involved with the non-human. An Adeptus, perhaps.”

“It was an Adeptus,” Childe said easily, and they all looked even more concerned. “Oh, don’t make those faces at me. It turns out this was a misguided attempt at apologizing for the Osial thing and all the backlash.”

“Why would they apologize for that?” asked one of the Geochanters.

“Did they… notice the remnants of our backup positions?” Felix guessed. “To realize that you wanted to protect the harbor instead of destroy it?”

“Let’s just say they’re very aware that we didn’t kill Rex Lapis and they feel pretty stupid about thinking we did,” said Childe. “I got the brunt of the attention so they focused on me, but they’ve realized they were adding to stress and apologized. If they appear again they’ll be coming through the front doors.”

“Are you sure you wouldn’t like us to survey the room? Just in case?” said Felix.

“If I say no you’re just going to be paranoid about it, aren’t you?” said Childe.

They guiltily said nothing. With a roll of his eyes Childe waved them on in. Predictably they found nothing new but the starconch, and left in much better spirits.

“So it’s the end of an era,” Vlad joked when Childe came down to the first floor for his meeting. Word had clearly gotten around fast. “Did you ever find out how that Adeptus did it?”

“They came in like a whopperflower,” Childe replied as he walked past.

“…But sir, whopperflowers come out of the ground,” said Vlad. “Both your office and your apartment were on upper levels of buildings…”

Childe just winked at him and closed the door to the meeting room.

Ekaterina and her little team had indeed compiled all of the Inazuma reports in record speed and deadly accuracy. She laid these out for Childe to review, and there was little he needed to do beyond sign off on all of the troop movement.

“I should give you a raise,” he said, with one last flourish to the order assigning Efim Schneitzevich to one of the particularly dreary barracks in the homeland; one letter to Arlecchino about how badly her ‘child’ was about to mess up the already-unstable Inazuma situation, and he was sure Efim would swiftly regret being born.

“You say that all the time, sir,” said Ekaterina, organizing the signed documents.

“And you deserve it every time. I’m glad I poached you from Signora.”

“You and me both, sir.” She eyed him over the papers. “You seem to be in a much better mood today.”

“Getting that secret admirer thing out of the way helps a lot,” said Childe. “Also I slept like a baby.” With the Prime Adeptus for company. He’d really stayed the entire night. The memory had him fighting a goofy smile, so he cleared his throat and bowed his head to better inspect the papers. “Maybe it’s little things, but I’m happier for it.”

“I think you’ll also be glad to hear that the Jade Chamber contest is winding down,” said Ekaterina. “The Adepti must have been more active in the harbor than we’d realized, because the needed sigils are all gathered up.”

“Have the winners been announced?” said Childe.

“Not officially, but we believe they were Shenhe, Yun Jin, and Beidou. The Traveler was of course also a contender but declined any prize,” said Ekaterina.

“I know about Shenhe and Yun Jin’s questions, but I wonder what Captain Beidou would want to ask Ningguang,” Childe mused.

Ekaterina looked aggrieved. “Nothing you want to know, sir.”

“Really?” said Childe. “Because if she was asking for ways around Ningguang’s patrols or exemptions we could take advantage—”

“It’s not, and really, you don’t want to know,” said Ekaterina.

Childe threw up his hands in surrender; Ekaterina of all people wouldn’t hoodwink him, so there was no point in pressing.

“I still recommend that you stay away from the bank for the next few days,” she said. “Without that official announcement there are several contestants still looking for ways to obtain the sigils at the last minute, and even once the announcement is made I’m sure they’ll be desperate enough to press their luck.”

“I’m sure I can find somewhere to make a scene today,” said Childe. “Is this all?”

“It is, sir.”

“Great. See you later.”

He stole the last of the breakfast pastries they’d been sharing and left, glad to be rid of paperwork no matter how much of it Ekaterina had already completed.

Now, where to go? If Zhongli was stuck with a consultation he couldn’t stop by the funeral parlor. There was no one else he was particularly interested in visiting, and no big local events to attend like the auction. The only thing left was the Jade Chamber fiasco itself. He resolved to brave the chaos for five minutes—he could scout out the changes and then flee toward Dunyu Ruins to hang out with the agents stationed there or something—but this plan was waylaid.

Almost immediately outside the doors Childe found an old man loitering, laden with fishing tackle.

Oh no, he thought instinctively, another Jade Chamber contestant.

OH NO, he thought with more feeling, when the old man’s identity clicked in his brain.

“Sir?” one of the guards whispered, looking ill. “Sir, I think that’s one of the Qixing! One of the big ones!”

One of the big ones! Ha! That was putting it lightly. This unassuming old man was Uncle Tian, the Tianshu. He was one of the most influential members of Liyue’s seven stars.

“How long has he been here?” Childe murmured.

“About ten minutes,” the guard replied, just as quiet. “He’s stalling for time but considering how he’s been arranging that tackle box it’s pretty convincing…”

For the Tianshu to be staking out the Fatui apartments personally, and so obviously, was a very bad thing indeed. Childe summoned a smile to his face and sauntered over to take care of it.

“Good morning, sir! Sorry, but did you drop something?”

Uncle Tian looked up with an easy smile. It looked genuine, but he was well known to be a sneaky man who lured idiots into letting their guards down. His face was sort of haggard, though. Childe didn’t remember him looking so pale and sickly… unless that was a trap in itself.

“Ah, simply being sure I’d brought everything from home today,” said Uncle Tian. “What excellent timing, though! I’d hoped to be able to speak with you, young Harbinger.”

Childe’s grin widened to show more teeth. “How unexpected! And what would bring the Tianshu out to meet me? I’m sure the Liyue Qixing would’ve been more than happy to invite me for an official meeting if there was anything amiss.”

“If I were here as one of the Qixing that would be true, but I’d hoped to talk on a more personal note,” said Uncle Tian. “You see, the other day I had lunch at Wanmin Restaurant, and had the most extraordinary calla lily seafood soup!” 

“…What?” said Childe.

“Imagine my surprise, when I asked Miss Xiangling how she’d created such a wonderful dish, and she told me it was made by a visiting dignitary!” Uncle Tian laughed. “I wondered if I could bother you for the recipe.”

This was not what Childe had been anticipating. He glanced back at the guards. One guard shrugged, clearly as confused as he was, while the other ducked into the building mumbling about fetching pen and paper.

“Sure,” said Childe. “I can’t claim that it’s anything on the level of Liyue’s fine dining options, but I suppose if you’re looking for something different, a little Snezhnayan flair could work.”

“Please don’t sell yourself short, young man. It was wonderful! It had… Ah, how does Miss Xiangling put it? Boom shaka-laka.” Childe snorted—half surprise and half real amusement at the wording—and Uncle Tian seemed even more pleased. “I’m very fond of fish soup. I’ve tried just about all the kinds that can be found here in Liyue Harbor, and this, I think, is my favorite. The last one I enjoyed so much—” His smile dimmed somewhat. “Hm, let’s say there was a different kind of Snezhnayan flair involved. I’m afraid I’ll never have that again.”

Childe raised a brow, incredulous. “What kind of Snezhnayan flair was that, sir?”

“One I am confident will not be included in your recipe, and one I don’t think either of us needs to worry about anymore,” said Uncle Tian.

It was Yusupov’s doing, wasn’t it? Childe knew that shitty diplomat had been up to something… He didn’t get the chance to drill for more information, though, because Uncle Tian had already moved on:

“Miss Xiangling told me that you prefer sourcing your own fish for this soup. Is that true?”

“When I have the time, certainly!” said Childe. “Fishing is great. It gives me a chance to meditate and refine my skills.”

“I did hear that you’re quite fond of fishing!” Uncle Tian chuckled. “Of course, when such facts are coming from rumor… well, sometimes those have only the slightest grain of truth. I’m more willing to believe Miss Xiangling than Iron Tongue Tian in these matters. I think I also heard, though, that you’ve been quite the fishing trendsetter in a few other nations. My granddaughter recently gifted me this, for example…”

From the tackle box he pulled a fishing line stabilizer, and Childe lit up.

“Oh! I’ve got one of those. Picked it up in Fontaine during a business trip. I’ve got no idea why they weren’t popular. I mean, it’s a self-adaptive tension stabilizer, that’s a godsend when you’re dealing with all the different sizes of fish, especially in Snezhnaya.”

“I’ve heard it’s quite the hot commodity now,” said Uncle Tian.

“Is it? Well, good for them,” said Childe.

Uncle Tian smiled like he was enjoying some inside joke. “Have you had the chance to fish much here in Liyue?”

“Not really. It got very busy very fast,” said Childe.

“Well, if you have the time I’d like to remedy that. As an avid fisherman myself, I know some of the best spots in Liyue,” said Uncle Tian.

Childe stared at him. “Are you serious?”

“I am.”

“I’m not giving you any secret information about the Fatui, so if that’s your angle—”

“Of course you’re not. Harbingers don’t rise to such a high rank by being liabilities.”

“Exactly. And complimenting my rank and cooking isn’t going to lower my guard around you.”

“If it did, I would be disappointed.”

Childe narrowed his eyes, annoyed and confused. “Then what’s in it for you? Certainly the rest of the Qixing would be less than pleased to hear you’re fraternizing with the enemy.”

“The enemy, hm?” said Uncle Tian. “Some of us are observant enough to see the forest instead of just the trees. I know what you Fatui are up to.”

“Funny, the last few people who said they know what the Fatui are up to were a lot more eager to kidnap my underlings,” said Childe.

“Then they sadly didn’t have the bigger picture,” said Uncle Tian.

“I’m pretty sure you’d be fired if the Qixing could hear that,” said Childe.

Uncle Tian shrugged. “The Fatui’s lot is an uncomfortable truth, but a truth nonetheless. But we all have roles in the play of the gods, don’t we?”

“Acknowledging your role while onstage can get an actor fired,” Childe said lightly.

“Duly noted,” said Uncle Tian. “But I do not begrudge you your role, young man. Let those who see the trees think that I’m gaining your trust for information. But for we, who see the forest… Let us simply enjoy our time fishing.”

Childe gave an incredulous laugh. “You really do just want to go fishing, don’t you?”

“But of course! Unfortunately my regular fishing companion is gone, the same as that fish soup. I’m afraid I’m not used to doing this on my own anymore, but I’m still quite particular about my company. It’s a careful balance to strike between patience and interest, and I can think of no one more suited than yourself, if you would humor me.”

“Well, if we’re being straightforward here, I’ll admit I’m interested,” said Childe. “Not for today, though. I’m not sitting somewhere exposed for however many hours while Jade Chamber contestants are still trying to find me.”

“I suspect they’d be far more effective in scaring away the fish than they’ve been with the Jade Chamber,” Uncle Tian agreed.

“Exactly! Very annoying,” said Childe. “So, once this whole Jade Chamber mess blows over, I’ll reach out and let you know when I’m free. Deal?”

“I look forward to it. In the meantime I wish you luck in avoiding them all.”

By this time the guard had returned with paper, and Childe scribbled down the recipe for a Prize Catch. Uncle Tian went on his way in a very good mood.

“That was strange,” said the first guard.

“You’re telling me,” Childe grumbled. “Report to Ekaterina if you see anyone else suspicious nearby.”

He left too, but not so fast that he didn’t hear one guard whispering to the other, “Does Wanmin really serve Lord Tartaglia’s recipe? …Do you want to go there for lunch?”

Childe shook his head in despair. He hadn’t considered that soup might bring him even more popularity. Why was Xiangling even telling people he made it? Couldn’t she have just said he was some anonymous Hydro user? Maybe he should stop by Wanmin today and tell her to stop talking about him. He could forgive the mask thing since every restaurant seemed to be trying to emulate that, but anything beyond that was bound to cause trouble for the both of them.

He turned his feet toward Chihu Rock. As expected the crowds grew thicker the further he went—surely on their way to the building site— but starting around the bridge from Feiyun Slope, they were all stopping and pointing upward. What an annoying roadblock! Childe sidestepped and wove between tourists, thankful that whatever had their attention had them rapt enough not to notice him.

“Is that what a Liyue Adeptus looks like?” said a woman from Fontaine, hands on her face as if she couldn’t contain her awe. “Look at those feathers! It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen!”

“This is the sort of story you have to tell your grandchildren! Do you know how rare it is to see an Adeptus in person?” said her companion, who was tastefully wearing some Xinyan merch.

“I will! Suddenly I understand why that Dvorak from the Iridescence Tour was so passionate, searching for traces of Adepti so many generations later…”

“Oh! It’s coming down! It’s coming down! Archons, it’s coming this way!”

Startled, Childe looked up as the crowd began to shout in alarm and glee.

Cloud Retainer was descending from the sky, her plumage all the more vibrant in the sunshine. With ethereal grace she turned on the wind, extended her wings and alighted on the rooftop of the building opposite Yanshang Tea House. Her head arched proudly, and she turned to look at the crowd that had now gone silent in anticipation.

“Human!” she called, shattering the whole pretty picture. “Human, you would not believe what one has heard!”

“Uh…” Childe looked at the stunned people around him. “Which human are you referring to, exactly?”

Cloud Retainer scoffed. “Which do you think? Come up here at once!”

Childe hesitated, then decided, hell with it. This would not be the weirdest thing he’d done this week. He climbed the building. To the other observers Cloud Retainer seemed to wait still and dispassionately, but once Childe threw himself onto the shingles, he could see that she was downright shivering with anticipation.

“One has discovered something tremendous!” said Cloud Retainer. “Something momentous! Something splendid!”

“And what would that be?” asked Childe, unsure why an Adeptus would apparently come to him bearing good news.

“In our last conversation, you will recall that one spoke of Ganyu,” said Cloud Retainer. “One was saddened and frustrated with her lack of visits, as all communication seems to be limited to the driest of business topics, and always she seems quick to flee when one reminisces… One had expressed vexation in how there seemed no enjoyable distraction here, not even a courtship to fill her time— But lo! One has made a discovery. There is a courtship.”

Oh, sweet Tsaritsa. She was here to gossip.

Childe was about to be subjected to romantic Adepti gossip.

Was this reality? How many of Liyue’s scholars would kill to be in his position right now? How many of the people in the streets below were watching and wondering what was going on, green with jealousy that it was the Fatui Harbinger of all people that might be receiving Cloud Retainer’s divine wisdom? This was great: civilians squirming, Qixing panicking over how to handle public enemy number one gallivanting with a treasured protector, and worming his way into the Adepti’s good graces, all in one go. He couldn’t have planned it better if he tried. He swung up his legs for a more comfortable position and aimed a smile with true glee at her.

“A courtship, you say!”

“Indeed!” said Cloud Retainer. “A courtship that, now that one’s eyes are opened, could not have been denied!”

“That’s great! I’m amazed she’s kept it quiet, though,” said Childe. “Ganyu’s a very well-loved member of the Qixing. I’d have thought that any news about her love life would be prime gossip material, and if I’ve learned anything about Liyue recently, it’s that gossip spreads fast.”

“It is no surprise, really, when the courtship is subtle,” said Cloud Retainer.

“…How subtle are we talking, here?” said Childe.

“Ganyu is shy with her approach,” said Cloud Retainer. “She is taking her time.”

“……And what does taking her time look like?”

“It is adorable,” Cloud Retainer gushed. “Ganyu becomes red and flustered at each interaction, while speaking so highly of that person at all other times! Why, when one once thoughtlessly disparaged that person’s behavior, Ganyu heatedly interrupted this one to declare that person’s virtues!”

Someone Ganyu knew well, who other Adepti wouldn’t normally approve of?

“Keqing?” Childe guessed.

Cloud Retainer spread her wings triumphantly. “The very one! So you see their compatibility and affections clearly as well!”

“I don’t know about that,” Childe said quickly. “While I may be a diplomat, our paths haven’t really crossed… And we’re thinking about the same Keqing, right? The Yuheng? Electro vision? Very purple? Casually blasphemes on a daily basis?”

“In an era without an Archon presiding over Liyue, such behavior is exemplary to ensure strong leadership of the people. Or so Ganyu says,” Cloud Retainer grumbled, but recovered her enthusiasm fast. “In any case, such disregard of the gods is favorable this time, as that makes it clear that the warmth Keqing shows Ganyu is due to respect and affection for her opinions and personhood, rather than whatever can be gained from divinity.”

Childe nodded slowly. He could make sense of that. “I suppose my next question is whether this courtship, if it’s so subtle, is actually requited.”

“Assuredly so!” said Cloud Retainer. “One has observed that, while normally brusque, Keqing consistently takes a gentler approach to Ganyu. She too holds a great respect for her! At one time she visited Mount Aocang to deliver gifts from the Liyue Qixing, and, while Ganyu was present, asserted to this one all of Ganyu’s talents! Ah, at that time Ganyu put sunesttias to shame, and was so overwhelmed with excitement that she fled the mountain entirely and hid herself between two rocks…”

The idea had Childe wheezing with laughter. Were all Adepti so awkward around their crushes?

“One believes that Ganyu has selected a very good potential mate!” Cloud Retainer declared. “This Keqing is strong in mind and ability, with ambition, compassion, and a healthy worry for Ganyu’s overworking habits—one is ashamed to admit that one is likely the unfortunate role model of such behavior, ahem—and has frequently given Ganyu gifts! The Qingxin flower is, after all, one of Ganyu’s favored snacks.”

Childe could picture it now: the confident, overthinking Keqing presenting a beautiful bouquet to Ganyu, proud of herself for making the right move, only for Ganyu to inexplicably take a big bite out of the flowers. The inner panic must’ve been amazing.

“I love it,” said Childe, grinning wide enough that his cheeks ached. “Did you just hear about it? Did Ganyu tell you?”

Cloud Retainer’s neck twisted in a sulk. “Ganyu did not tell this one. Since meeting one with the Traveler, Ganyu has proved exceedingly difficult to pin down. No, this one heard tell of it from Moon Carver. To think that she would bypass one to speak to Moon Carver about mates! Foolishness!”

Childe’s grin got wider as he leaned closer, chin propped up on his knuckles. “Moon Carver doesn’t strike me as a very romantic guy.”

“There is not a romantic bone in his body!” Cloud Retainer agreed hotly. “If Ganyu were to go to him for advice, he may tell her some silly proverb about the patience of mountains, and she may never take any initiative! One has had enough of romantic fools asking Moon Carver and Mountain Shaper for advice! They are Adepti, but they are fools! More foolish than the romantic fools!”

“You sound like you have a lot of romantic fools running around Mount Aocang,” said Childe.

Cloud Retainer sent him a foul look. “One does not appreciate the irony.”

“Excuse you?” said Childe, before his brain caught up with him. He could feel his face going red, but luckily Cloud Retainer was too hung up on her adoptive daughter’s plight to worry about his.

“When dealing with Adepti, one may take one’s time, but humans do not have so long a lifespan. If Ganyu is to remain at Moon Carver and Mountain Shaper’s pace, Keqing will be an old woman by the time they confess to each other, and they will have perhaps a decade of happiness before she dies. If Mountain Shaper had his way, Ganyu would wait still longer! And what if Keqing, with such limited time, seeks happiness elsewhere? Those fools will ruin Ganyu’s future. Ah, if only Yanfei’s parents were here to share their guidance. They handled things properly, and look at them, exploring the world together and in love…”

She shook her head and leaned closer. Childe leaned back, but she had a significantly longer neck, so he was left teetering with them beak to nose.

“This is where you come in, human,” said Cloud Retainer. “One cannot depend on other Adepti in this case, so you shall assist in one’s goals!”

“Uh,” said Childe, suddenly regretting coming up here. “Are you sure Xiao wouldn’t be a better option?’

“Xiao!” Cloud Retainer reeled back in offense. “You think Xiao would be any assistance? Xiao, who pined silently for thousands of years after a flute solo?”

“No!” Childe gasped in delight. “He did that?”

“Yes!” cried Cloud Retainer.

“Stop,” said Xiao, who was suddenly on the roof with them. The mask covered his face, but his ears were red. “Cloud Retainer, there is no need for you to be so familiar with this Fatui—”

“There is a desperate need! Without assistance, one’s progeny will be doomed to a life of loneliness!” said Cloud Retainer.

“The Fatui doesn’t need to be your assistant,” said Xiao.

“Where shall one find assistance, then? One is surrounded by idiots on all sides!” said Cloud Retainer.

Xiao made an offended noise that was completely at odds with his usual determined grumpiness.

“Name one Adeptus who is not an idiot in this situation,” said Cloud Retainer, ignoring him.

Xiao hesitated. He’d probably been about to say “Rex Lapis,” but clearly Zhongli was little better than Moon Carver in this instance. Instead Xiao straightened himself and said, defensively, “Madame Ping.”

“One applauds this variation from your usual hero worship,” Cloud Retainer said disdainfully, “but Madame Ping, when advised of the situation, simply laughed and refused to act further.”

“You think he’s any better?” said Xiao, pointing his spear at Childe.

Childe happened to be wheezing again, near tears with laughter.

“The Fatui Harbinger has at least expressed interest!” said Cloud Retainer.

“You wish to encourage the Fatui’s interest in the Adepti?” Xiao challenged.

Cloud Retainer scoffed. “We are far beyond such silly protests! Has this Harbinger not already spent two years sating an interest in Zhongli?”

“That’s very suspicious wording,” Childe snickered.

He couldn’t be mad about it, though, because Xiao was sputtering like he’d swallowed a lemon and it was the funniest thing he’d heard since the whole cocogoat debacle.

The two Adepti held each other’s gaze for a while, sizing each other up, and then…

“I’m telling Ganyu,” said Xiao, and vanished in a flash of Anemo.

“Do that! Go on, do that!” Cloud Retainer cried, flapping her wings in a rage. “One knew you would be worse than useless!”

“Tragic,” said Childe, shaking his head. “I suppose if he’s off to warn Ganyu, any plans I may have helped with aren’t going to work…”

“As fast as the Conqueror of Demons may be, his movement is not instantaneous. There is still time. Come!” said Cloud Retainer.

“What? Whoa, hang on a second—"

Cloud Retainer wasn’t interested in his protests and took off immediately. A weird tingle shot through Childe’s body and suddenly he was weightless, being drawn after her like a kite. He had none of a kite’s grace though, wobbling and rolling as they flew higher and the crowd below cheered.

“Are we really doing this?” he cried.

“Of course!” said Cloud Retainer. “We are fortunate that one knows just where Lady Keqing will be.”

Keqing’s location was, predictably, in Yujing Terrace. Where else would such a notorious workaholic be? Cloud Retainer gently deposited the two of them behind Gentry Maocai’s residence and peered around the corner at Yuehai Pavilion. There was the Yuheng at the top of the steps, talking with a member of the Millelith. It probably had to do with the supply movements in the Guili Assembly, and for a moment Childe wished Cloud Retainer had placed them somewhere closer to eavesdrop.

“Hark! There she is,” said Cloud Retainer. “If Ganyu cannot be reasoned with, we shall speak instead with Lady Keqing.”

“Okay, what’s your plan?” said Childe.

“You will speak to her,” said Cloud Retainer.

“Yeah, that’s not going to go well,” said Childe. “I’m Fatui, remember?”

“If the Adepti can change their minds about you, so can a human as cunning and flexible as Lady Keqing,” said Cloud Retainer.

“Maybe, but not instantly,” said Childe.

Cloud Retainer huffed. “Very well! Then you will present her with this.”

A slip of paper unfurled itself from thin air, decorated with beautifully precise brushstrokes and radiating divinity.

“No,” said Childe.

“No?” said Cloud Retainer, affronted. “Do you not understand what this is? A Sigil of Permission is far beyond standard Adeptus Sigils in value! Where an Adeptus Sigil is a fragment of power to be utilized as a battery, a Sigil of Permission is essence, protection, and blessing of the Adeptus itself! This clear proof of favor grants access to all of Liyue, from the peaks of Jueyun Karst to the negotiating rooms of Liyue’s rulers! No Adeptus has granted a Sigil of Permission since the days of the Archon War! This is the highest of honors!”

“Yeah.” Childe winced. “See, I know that because I’ve had one before.”

“From Zhongli?” said Cloud Retainer, intrigued. “It is understandable that when Rex Lapis is believed to be dead, the Liyue Qixing may question the retention of his marks of favor no matter how blatant…”

“It wasn’t given to me. I actually got it from a debt collection on the Yanshang Tea House,” said Childe. “But I told Zhongli about it and he didn’t confiscate it, so…”

Cloud Retainer’s eyes narrowed as she read between the lines: Zhongli didn’t confiscate it because he wanted me to use it to access places I’d never be able to reach otherwise like, say, the seal of an angry god of the vortex. Luckily she was either blaming Zhongli for the mess or prioritizing Ganyu’s presumed-relationship, because she merely huffed and the Sigil of Permission disappeared again.

“In that case the Liyue Qixing are bound to assume that you have stolen any sign of favor one might bestow on you and render the exercise a failure even before it begins. You shall leverage your own talents, then. As a Harbinger one imagines you have many skills to bring to bear here.”

“Well,” said Childe, thinking about how every single Harbinger and politician he’d met hated his guts.

“Quickly now,” said Cloud Retainer, and pecked his back.

It hurt! Childe hustled out of their cover to avoid her beak. This placed him irrevocably in the Millelith’s line of sight, and he could see at least four polearm-wielding guards stiffen at the mere glimpse of him. Shit. He glanced back, and Cloud Retainer flipped a wing as if to say, Go on! Yeah, he had no plan and he was screwed. He was a master of faking it, though, so threw on a smile and beelined to intercept Keqing as she reached the bottom of the stairs.

“Harbinger Tartaglia,” she said, eyes narrowed.

“Honorable Yuheng,” Childe replied. “I wondered if I could trouble you—”

“No,” she said, and kept on walking.

Childe’s smile became a little terser but he walked beside her. “Sorry, but that’s not an option for me. It’ll take just a little bit of your time.”

“I refuse.” Keqing didn’t bother to look at him. “If you want to talk to me about your person or that blight on the city that you call a bank, you’d have scheduled a meeting. If you didn’t schedule a meeting with me, then your concerns are out of my purview and I have no desire to pull any strings for you. I don’t do ‘favors,’ and I certainly don’t associate with Fatui.”

“Well then, it’s a good thing I’m not here for anything political or to do with myself,” said Childe. “My dear Yuheng, I’m here about you.”

“If you’re trying to propose something, it’s not worth the attempt. My answer remains no.”

“Even if it has to do with Secretary Ganyu?”

At that she did stop, and sent him a glare so icy it was a wonder she didn’t have a Cryo vision.

“Secretary Ganyu is no fool who would fall into your traps, Harbinger or not,” she huffed.

“Easy, comrade, I’m not making a threat,” said Childe. “I’m just looking for information is all—”

“No.”

“It’s not even information that could prove useful in politics!”

“No.”

Childe was really fighting to keep the smile on his face, and said through gritted teeth, “Only a confirmation! If you say yes, that’s great! If you say no, I’ll leave it alone. If you say nothing at all, I’m taking that as a yes.”

“And just why would I agree to such a thing when you’re already ignoring my refusal?”

“Because I’ll keep bothering you until I get an answer, and my fellow Harbingers would be happy to vouch for me being very determined and very annoying.”

Keqing looked downright disgusted. “Fine. Ask your question, but only the one.”

“Great!” said Childe, clapping his hands. “Do you like Ganyu?”

This was so far off from what Keqing expected that her whole aggressive façade cracked apart. For a moment she gaped at him, and with the realization that oh he’s serious, her face went red.

“Why in Teyvat would you ask that?” she snapped, a little too high pitched. “It’s no business of yours what the Qixing think of each other!”

She kept on blustering about how the seven stars of Liyue were a united front that no petty infighting (which of course did not exist) could separate, blah blah blah, but it was clear from her intensifying blush that she knew exactly what he meant, and she wasn’t saying no. Childe turned and gave an enthusiastic thumbs up toward the little garden where Madame Ping usually sat; Cloud Retainer was hiding in the shadow of the large rocks there, and fluttered her wings in delight.

“I-Is that Cloud Retainer?” said Keqing, following his gaze. “You’re asking for… I thought the Adepti hated you!”

“I know, weird, right?” said Childe. “How fast opinions change. But hey. We’re looking at your opinions right now. So. Ganyu.”

Keqing’s eyes flicked between the Harbinger and the Adeptus, piecing together the seemingly impossible. Eventually she came to a conclusion. She folded her arms, cleared her throat, and radiated ‘business.’

“Secretary Ganyu is a much-loved and most valuable member of the Liyue Qixing. She may appear quiet and easily flustered, but under that façade is an iron will and extreme efficiency carried out with the utmost respect for everyone she associates with.”

“That’s great, but from what I hear you’ve already sung Ganyu’s professional praises to Cloud Retainer once before,” said Childe. “What I’m getting at is what you feel about her as a person.”

Keqing shifted her stance a little, the only sign of weakness. “The Adepti know that I’m not entirely fond of them. I respect what they’ve done for Liyue through its history but they embrace that past too tightly, to the point of resisting change and thinking themselves high above the mortals they protect. Even the honorable Cloud Retainer is guilty of this. Just because she is a talented inventor doesn’t mean she’ll be the only one in existence; anyone with a vision has the capability of ascending to godhood, and even those without visions can have talent surpassing hers. Mortality does not mean ineptitude or stupidity. Humans have value too. Their thoughts and actions are not meaningless, and we have the capability—the right—to make our desires known and govern ourselves properly.”

“You and I are on the same page there,” said Childe. “These gods have some pretty big blind spots sometimes, don’t they?”

Keqing nodded, quick and shallow as if annoyed that they agreed on something. “Many of our interactions with Adepti follow this pattern. They’re quick to jump forward with ‘solutions’ without gathering proper evidence or even pretending to listen to opinions from those they’re affecting. They hold themselves aloft as if they’re disgusted to associate with us. This of course contributes to their mystery, but it also contributes to resentment. They interfere with things they aren’t part of. Rex Lapis was… considerate. And he kept them in check. But with him gone, if they hadn’t been forced to unite with us in the face of Osial, I’m sure they would’ve clung to their old ways and built resentment and miscommunication enough for Liyue to fracture.”

So you’re saying me trying to drown this city was the best thing that could’ve happened to it, Childe wanted to tease, but now was not the time.

“Even now the future is uncertain. It’s too soon to know whether we’ll be able to work properly with the Adepti or eventually tear each other apart. But Ganyu isn’t like that,” said Keqing. “From the very beginning she chose to stand alongside humans instead of distancing herself. Generations upon generations of the Qixing have known and adored her. She speaks to us as equals. In our minds she makes the Adepti approachable, but all the more admirable for it. She is real, and she is kind, and if the other Adepti are like her, then we can welcome and trust them, too.”

The words themselves weren’t in depth and didn’t stray far from professionalism, but when Keqing talked about Ganyu her eyes and her voice softened into something that did feel wistfully personal.

Wow! This really was reciprocated, wasn’t it?

Childe had no time to look back at Cloud Retainer to see if she’d caught this, because one of Yuehai Pavilion’s front doors slammed open. The thing was massive, had probably been impossible to slam in any way in the however many hundreds or thousands of years it had stood, but those hundreds or thousands of years likely hadn’t seen an Adeptus frantic enough to throw away their dignity. Because there Ganyu was, wide-eyed and panting. She looked at Childe with dawning horror. Childe grinned with all his teeth.

“Lady Keqing!” cried Ganyu, rushing out to meet them. “I’d been looking for you, um— I didn’t realize you were familiar with this particular Snezhnayan diplomat!”

“I’m not,” said Keqing.

“Th-then why—”

“He’s speaking with me on behalf of Cloud Retainer,” said Keqing, inclining her head at Cloud Retainer’s not-so-secret hiding place. “It seems there’s some hope for the Adepti after all. They appear to be doing research on better interacting with humans and wanted a mortal perspective on the groundwork you’ve already laid.”

“Yes,” Childe said meaningfully, “we’re very interested in Keqing’s opinion of you.”

“I have of course been explicit about my thoughts,” said Keqing, but was taken aback as Ganyu visibly paled. “Wait, what’s wrong? I told them you were an ideal ambassador—”

“One could stand to hear more,” said Cloud Retainer, strutting to join them. “After all, one is very curious about Ganyu’s relationship with certain mortals.”

“The Qixing at large?” said Keqing, lost. “Or perhaps a different demographic?”

“Try a little closer to this plaza,” said Childe.

“Oh, Rex Lapis preserve us,” Ganyu whispered.

Cloud Retainer drew herself up, neck arched proudly. “One must take full advantage of the opportunity to discuss this with Lady Keqing, considering Ganyu has neglected to share news of her progress even when asked.”

“Really? That doesn’t sound like Ganyu,” said Keqing.

“It’s really nothing, you don’t have to worry about it,” said Ganyu.

“Even when one has asked for information on multiple occasions!” Cloud Retainer went on. “How is one meant to procure a plan of action when one is missing such vital details?”

“We don’t need a plan of action!” said Ganyu, a borderline whine. “Cloud Retainer, please—”

“Cryptic, isn’t it?” said Childe, turning to Keqing again as the Adepti squabbled. “Let me act as a translator for these glorious illuminated beasts… You know that Cloud Retainer is kind of a mother figure for Ganyu, right?”

“I had gotten that impression,” said Keqing.

“And you’ve met Shenhe, right?”

“Of course I’m aware of the winners of the Jade Chamber contest.”

"Of course! Well, Shenhe is another one of Cloud Retainer’s adopted daughters who’s just now leaving the nest. And you’ve said it already, Cloud Retainer’s a recluse! If she’s coming to Liyue Harbor to support one daughter, she’s going to make the most of it and work with the other daughter at the same time before she goes back to hiding on Mt. Aocang. Right now she’s tremendously worried about the two of them having friends!”

“…Friends?” Keqing echoed, baffled.

“That’s really not an issue!” Ganyu squawked. “Master Childe, if you’d please—”

“Many Adepti cling to the past because it’s when they were happy,” said Childe, keeping eye contact with the Yuheng. “Immortality is a gift, but it’s also a curse where you see the things you love die and be forgotten. It’s painful. The city changes faster, so a lot of them stay in Jueyun Karst among their own kind because they at least won’t die of old age, but they can slip into isolation without realizing it, and they can lose grasp of time. Ganyu and Shenhe have a more human understanding of time, and Cloud Retainer is very worried about them being lonely or without meaning in their lives. Shenhe’s a work in progress, but Cloud Retainer heard that there’s a certain spark of excitement in Ganyu’s life right now, so she wanted to see it for herself and support Ganyu if needed. She’s very invested in Ganyu’s happiness.”

Keqing nodded slowly as she considered this. “And you are supposedly invested in Ganyu’s happiness enough to interfere?”

“Personally I’m more invested in Cloud Retainer’s happiness, but that involves Ganyu by proxy,” said Childe. “You can see here why Cloud Retainer wanted someone else to act as her mouthpiece, but you’re right, I’m a weird choice.”

“Who else could one turn to? Xiao?” Cloud Retainer scoffed.

“The Conqueror of Demons is much more helpful than you realize,” Ganyu grumbled.

“You were looking for what makes Ganyu happy, but I was trying to hype her up as an ambassador… I’m sorry, but I don’t think I’ll be your best resource for this,” said Keqing. “But… I’m glad you have something like that, Ganyu. You deserve all the happiness you can find.”

Ganyu’s face did something complicated, like she hopelessly adored the woman before her but was too exasperated or resigned to properly acknowledge the sumpterbeast in the room.

“Please tell me I never looked like that,” Childe whispered to Cloud Retainer.

Cloud Retainer ignored him. She leaned closer to Ganyu and said, “We have crossed the threshold into a new age. Is it not well to begin that age with an auspicious truth?”

Ganyu fidgeted. “Perhaps, but…”

“If it is indeed not truth then one will not interfere,” said Cloud Retainer. “One’s only hope is that you are happy, with someone who cherishes you. But one believes it is not your happiness alone that can be sealed with this.”

Ganyu bit her lip and clasped her hands together to keep them from shaking, but this lasted only a moment; in the next she'd found resolution. She straightened, took a deep breath, and turned.

"Lady Keqing."

Keqing blinked in surprise. "Yes?"

"I have to admit something to you," said Ganyu. "In the many years I have served as secretary of the Qixing, you are one of the few who truly worried for my wellbeing. At first I disliked you for your criticism of Rex Lapis, but the more time I spent with you, the more I realized that it wasn't that you disliked him— it was that you felt we and humanity should strive to match him. You fully believe in the ability of Adepti and mortals, you want them to grow and do their best. You work so hard, but when something goes wrong you don't get discouraged, you go back to the drawing board and devise an even stronger method. You are determined and resilient and challenging, and everything I have ever admired in humanity. When they say I have a spark of excitement in my life, it's you. I... would like to know you much better. And become closer. If you are interested in pursuing such a thing."

Keqing's face was completely flushed, but she otherwise kept her composure. "I see. And... when you say become closer, do you mean..."

"Lovers," Ganyu replied, and then looked mortified. "No! No, that's too fast, I'm sorry! Date! I meant dating."

"Oh. Well. Then. I. I feel the same," said Keqing.

"You do?" said Ganyu.

"I do," said Keqing. "We'll need to set up a time for our first date. There's not much overlap between our schedules, but perhaps this will get you out of the office. If we make it a recurring event you might even find a semblance of a work-life balance."

"That's a little hypocritical coming from you," Ganyu chuckled.

Keqing shrugged, unrepentant. "Perhaps it's someting we can work toward for the both of us."

"Oh, one is thrilled!" said Cloud Retainer. "If the Conqueror of Demons is watching now, he shall have to eat his words—"

“Hey, Keqing, a word of advice,” Childe interrupted.

Keqing scowled at him. “What?”

“Adepti are shit at communicating,” said Childe. “I haven’t met a single one who can say things straightforwardly. Part of the mystery around them is probably because they don’t finish their own sentences or they expect you to read their minds.”

Ganyu spluttered.

Cloud Retainer puffed herself up. “One is fully aware of the fools and their foolish attempts to advise Ganyu! But rest assured, this one is not a part of Childe’s generalization. One shall always be forthright with you.”

Whether you want to hear it or not, Childe thought, rolling his eyes fondly.

Aloud he said, “Don’t believe that any of them have a problem with you unless you’ve asked it to their faces. It’ll save you a lot of headaches.”

Keqing seemed caught somewhere between annoyed and thoughtful. “How long have you been an expert in Adepti communication?”

“Since we started bonding!” Childe teased, and circled Cloud Retainer’s neck in a one-armed hug. And wow, they really had been bonding, because Cloud Retainer allowed it.

Keqing blanched. “C-Cloud Retainer, you can do so much better!”

“Wait, what?” said Childe.

“One appreciates your concern, but it is unneeded,” said Cloud Retainer. “This one has no such interest in Childe. He is simply a fine conversation partner. Besides, he is already claimed.”

“Oh! Then… it worked?” said Ganyu.

“What worked?” said Keqing, looking back and forth between them.

“Exactly how many Adepti knew about that whole situation?” said Childe, grimacing.

“All of them,” said Cloud Retainer.

That was simultaneously super embarrassing and also incredibly in character; of course once Zhongli started talking about something he was enthusiastic about he’d keep going on about it to anyone and everyone.

“Ah, Keqing, I’ll tell you later,” said Ganyu. “Over… lunch, maybe?”

Keqing bit back a smile. “I’d like that.”

“And that’s our cue to clear out,” said Childe, steering Cloud Retainer away.

“Really? When only now it is confirmed and can be acted—” Cloud Retainer caught sight of Ganyu’s expression and stopped, visibly restraining herself from keeping on that same thought. “Ah, so it is. So it must be. Certain Adepti will have to regale their master with news of the proceedings at a later time, as one will be waiting for this with bated breath. At that time Lady Keqing will be free to visit as well, and one shall return the favor by regaling her with tales of Ganyu’s youth—”

“Cloud Retainer,” Ganyu whined.

“But in the meantime one shall make haste to Jueyun Karst, to reiterate to Moon Carver and Mountain Shaper that their romantic advice is…”

“Trash?” Childe suggested.

“Precisely,” said Cloud Retainer. “One is encouraged to have such a discerning companion. Your assistance is appreciated, Childe. Would you like to accompany one to provide an eyewitness account of their idiocy?”

“I would, but I’ve got plans for dinner tonight and I’d hate to miss them,” said Childe.

Besides, while he seemed to be on the good side of many Adepti he wasn’t ready to go into a large group of them without heavy backup yet.

“One shall arrange a meeting on some other occasion, then,” said Cloud Retainer. “Enjoy your dinner. One shall be happy to tell you of Moon Carver and Mountain Shaper’s foolishness later.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” said Childe.

“As for yourself and Ganyu…” Cloud Retainer turned to Keqing. “Your paths have crossed, and that in itself is a blessing. Be good to each other.”

“We’re really not at that kind of stage yet!” Ganyu mumbled, hands over her face.

Keqing on the other hand took it as seriously as some edict of the Tianquan, and vowed, “I will.”

Ganyu pressed her hands harder against her face and made a shrill, happy-embarrassed noise. Childe was willing to bet she wanted to go and hide between two rocks again.

“Good. That is all one had to say.”

Cloud Retainer flapped her wings and lifted off into the sky. Even before she was out of sight, Childe hightailed it down the stairs and back to Feiyun Slope before the two lovebirds could try talking to him further. He was halfway down when— Poof.

“Really?” Childe groaned. Xiao had materialized again, close enough that he had to back up a little. When was this going to end? “Are you going to try chewing me out about Ganyu? Because you should really take that up with Cloud Retainer. I wouldn’t have been involved if she didn’t literally drop me into it—”

“No,” said Xiao.

“No?” said Childe. “Then I suppose you’re here again to not talk and waste my time?”

“I am here for the same reason I appeared before you previously. It is foolish of me to have taken this long. All the more foolish considering Cloud Retainer’s treatment of you already.”  Xiao took off his mask. He looked annoyed, sure, but way below his baseline annoyance. On him this might be downright pleasant. “I am here to apologize for calling you detritus of the polar seas. And for so readily believing the worst of you.”

Huh?

Childe glanced around to see if anyone was lying in wait, and said, “Are you, uh, being put up to this?”

Xiao raised an unimpressed brow. “You believe anyone can threaten me into saying something I don’t want to?”

“I mean, the alternative is that you actually like me or something—”

“Absolutely not,” said Xiao. “I dislike you very much.”

“But you’re taking back your cheap shots? How very sportsmanlike,” said Childe.

Xiao gave a jerky nod. “I don’t like you, but… you make Zhongli happy. So. I’ll get over it.”

That was… surprisingly heartwarming? Childe’s smile was a little too genuine as he laughed, “Is that so? Are you welcoming me to the family? Are we going to be friends now?”

“No,” said Xiao, but his ears had gone pink again. “I apologized. That’s all. Goodbye.”

And poof, he was gone again.

Childe cackled and descended the stairs in a much better mood.

In the main roads of Liyue Harbor the crowds had impossibly thickened. Many tourists of course flocked to the businesses displaying copies of Childe’s mask, but the main flow was directed toward the Jade Chamber construction site, and for very good reason.

“It’s almost completed!” a man was shouting from one of the bridges spanning the main road. “If you still want to see it, now’s your chance! The ascension ceremony is scheduled for this afternoon! The Jade Chamber will never be so close to the ground again!”

This afternoon? Those builders really did work fast! It was nice to know the end of Childe’s competition-induced suffering was near, but he wasn’t quite out of the woods yet.

Childe returned to Heyu Teahouse. Now that he didn’t feel like crawling out of his own skin, the place had returned to the perfect harmony of being really obvious while remaining socially unacceptable to bother him in. It was true that the plentiful tourists whispered and glanced excitedly at his table, and that Fan Er’ye was pleased enough with his association that he came to check in on Childe personally when his tea was served, but otherwise Childe was free to relax and listen to Teamaster Liu Su’s latest story.

“As you all know, the Guhua Brotherhood suffered a decline and became the Guhua Sect, and the Sect too withered and became the Guhua Clan as we know it today…”

The little corner of his mind that always gathered information and threats was intrigued—didn’t he know someone associated with the Guhua? Was it Xingqiu?—but most of his thoughts were consumed by his upcoming dinner. Because it would not just be dinner. Childe had three months of wining and dining to make up for, and his mora pouch was a little too heavy for his liking. He had to do something nice. Something impressive! He couldn’t really match that jade starconch on such short notice, but he could damn well try!

He should make reservations… Actually, no, all the restaurants in the harbor were trying to take advantage of the tourist crowd, so even if Childe wanted to bribe with an obscene amount of mora they’d still be in a packed and loud restaurant. Meddler that she was, Xiangling would be thrilled for them to turn up at any time and probably try to get them the most secluded table in Wanmin, but what could be considered secluded with these kinds of crowds? Wanmin would be a quick stop, food only, and then they’d be off to the rest of their evening.

A date.

The idea had him giddy.  

He’d never been on a date.

What did people do on dates?

Flowers, he thought immediately. I’ll bring him flowers. I’ll get a bouquet. Zhongli likes silkflowers. There are different kinds of silkflowers with different smells. Rex Lapis likes the old lady one. WHAT IS THE OLD LADY ONE?

His little moment of terror (how could he not know Zhongli’s favorite scent? Hadn’t he pocketed a vial of its perfume with a bad excuse about it “helping keep the anger fresh” or something? Was that vial labeled???) was interrupted by someone sitting next to him.

“Hey, Red!” Xinyan whispered. “Glad to see you didn’t drown!”

“You thought that I, a Hydro user, could drown?” said Childe, amused.

“Maybe! The world’s all kinds of crazy right now,” said Xinyan. “Is it okay if I sit here? I’ve been walking all the way from Lisha and this is the first free chair I could find.”

“Sure, I could use the company,” said Childe. “Just be sure to defend me against any crazed Jade Chamber contestants. It's already over and I hear they’re still after me.”

Xinyan pressed a hand over her mouth to stifle a laugh, glancing at Liu Su to make sure he wasn’t bothered by their discussion. Liu Su was much more focused on a woman with a red hat and monocle, likely a reporter from the Steambird.

“Now, this is not well known, but the Guhua Clan's Way of the Rain Cutter is the art of forming blades out of water, countering hard blows with soft strikes—”

“It’s hard to believe the Jade Chamber’s reconstruction is already done,” Xinyan agreed. “Part of me is sad to see such an exciting thing end, but on the other hand it’ll be nice to be able to breathe on the streets again!”

“Did you get any other concert opportunities?” said Childe.

“I sure did! I feel like I’ve been singing nonstop, it’s great!”

They got more tea and settled in for a nice, easy conversation. Xinyan talked about her singing, how she’d had the chance to gain new fans and meet with musicians from other nations, and how someone from Natlan was adamant that they hang out at the Iridescence Tour whenever that came to fruition. She mentioned how some lesser-known members of the Yun-Han Opera Troupe had done a short demonstration to promote their upcoming premiere, but mercifully did not ask why Childe threw himself off a bridge to avoid Yun Jin yesterday. Instead he managed to turn the conversation around to the harbor’s shops, and as a result confirmed that yes, Bolai was still selling fancy silkflowers. Childe would need to pay him a visit later.

The sun had passed its zenith and clouds had started to roll in by the time the Steambird reporter hurried out of the Teahouse. Childe twisted in his seat; the view was obscured by more pillars and walkways, but he could glimpse the mountains and the distant shape of the Jade Chamber.

“Looks like it’ll be ascending soon,” he said. “You’re sure you don’t want to try getting a last-minute spot to watch?”

“I’d probably get trampled, and let’s face it, we’ve got a pretty good sight on it from here, don’t we?” said Xinyan. “At least from here we won’t just be looking at the bottom.”

True enough.

Childe kept his eyes on the Jade Chamber, fingers drumming on the table. Maybe it was all the importance of the contest messing with him, but he felt a prickle of unease. Everything was leading up to this moment. Now would be the perfect time for something to go wrong. Mentally he counted through the Fatui on duty, their locations and orders; several had been assigned to monitor the Jade Chamber already so precautions had been taken, but still…

It was easy to tell when the ascension ceremony began. A hush swept through the crowd, starting at the construction site and spreading slow into the harbor. Conversations were reduced to whispers, everyone craning their necks to see the Jade Chamber and straining their ears as if they could hear whatever Ningguang’s speech was even at this distance. Even Liu Su broke off his story. For almost ten minutes Liyue Harbor was suspended in eerie quiet, and that made it all the more obvious when the speech concluded. With a great rumbling, the heavy tethers detached. The Jade Chamber began to gently ascend, and the crowd shrieked with excitement. Childe didn’t think he’d ever seen so many kameras going off in one place before.  

Plip.

Childe’s head tipped in surprise. His Hydro vision glowed, reacting to something in the air. He looked around again at another slight sound, and realized it was raindrops. At first it was just a few, but the sky was getting darker, shifting toward the blackness of night as the rain came down all the harder.

“Oh no!” cried Xinyan, springing up and trying to save their refreshments. “It’s really coming down! We should find some cover!”

Most of the other patrons thought the same; after a moment of surprise they were all trying to tuck in under the eaves or run into the covered area up the stairs. Such was the fate of outdoor seating. Childe knocked back the last of his tea, intending to follow Xinyan to shelter, but he made the mistake of glancing out at the sea and promptly choked.

There was a massive, glowing blue snake… dragon… thing rearing up out of the water, like a less-fishy, one-head version of Osial. Every head in the teahouse swiveled to face the monster, and then back at the Harbinger near-collapsed against his table in a coughing fit.

“I had nothing to do with that!” Childe cried. 

“Obviously!” said Xinyan. “But what is that thing? What does it want?”

Everyone looked to Liu Su, because surely somewhere in the hundreds of tales he knew he’d come across something like this.

“That is the Avenger of the Vortex, Beisht,” Liu Su said gravely. “Osial’s wife.”

Childe and Xinyan were silent for a moment.

“At the risk of sounding really rude,” said Childe, “this seems… uninspired.”

“Yeah,” Xinyan said slowly, like it was a great revelation.

“It’s like how there’s a really good performance, and then someone comes out with a sequel and it’s the same thing but done badly,” said Childe.

“Exactly! They’re just ripping off the source material,” said Xinyan. “I bet Lumine didn’t even have to kick anyone’s butt in the Golden House this time!” Childe sent her an irritated look, and she shrugged. “What can I say? The wife is cutting corners.”

The Jade Chamber surged forward. The lights of its keel flickered low over the rooftops, and then it was out to sea, on a collision course just like its predecessor. Fear changed fast into joy again.

“There it goes, the Jade Chamber!”

“The Qixing are on it, we’re going to be safe—”

“Lady Ningguang really will do anything for Liyue…”

“She’s going to avenge the first Jade Chamber!”

Golden light blazed forth along the chamber’s back, a constellation of raw Geo energy that sent Ningguang’s starshatter gems shrieking out. Beisht shuddered under the onslaught. To make matters worse, a spark of Electro followed by more Geo energy from the area of Guyun Stone Forest alerted everyone to the fact that there was a cluster of Guizhong ballistae shooting from the shore, while from the other side the Alcor closed in with weaponry of its own.

“Why are they on the beaches?” said Childe. “Seriously, why are they on the beach fighting a water dragon, why couldn’t they take up positions higher in the stone forest? I know there’s good land for it higher up—”

“Maybe the ballistae didn’t have even ground up there?” guessed Xinyan.

“Then they could’ve evened it out! This way they’ll just get hit with—”

In the distance, Beisht got annoyed and started screaming. Childe could feel the Hydro energy churning all the way from here, and… yep. Just as expected.

“—That,” he said, pointing at the tsunami. “They’ll all get knocked out by that!”

“Uh, I think we’re going to get knocked out by that,” said Xinyan, as the people around them started to panic.

The tsunami wave was cresting as high as the stone forest, definitely high enough to hit the harbor and do serious damage.

“Shit,” said Childe, jumping up. “Where are the exorcists? They’re all Cryo, aren’t they? Get them and any other vision holders with a chance at stopping the water.”

“I’ll get the exorcists now!” Xinyan leapt out of her seat, too. “Do we even have time to do it?”

“Keep moving until you can’t!” Childe snapped.

He brought his fingers to his lips and gave a loud, sharp whistle. Almost instantly there came answering whistles from the streets below, and the crowd abruptly shifted as the Fatui present snapped into action. They were several months past the time they’d anticipated using Osial-mitigating tactics, but by the Archons, they had drilled it. They’d run through that defensive checklist so many times agents had grumbled that they ran it in their dreams, but none of them had ever complained about the work. After all, those who joined the Fatui did so for the good of Teyvat, but they rarely had the chance to be so obvious about it.

All the Fatui without visions or applicable skillsets cleared their assigned evacuation routes and directed the tourists and civilians down them; judging by how the Millelith were so quick to respond they’d been expecting this too, so it worked at maximum efficiency even with a tsunami bearing toward them. All other Fatui—Cryo power to freeze, Geo power for shields, anyone else who could make constructs to serve as breakers, and Mirror Maidens for each group to teleport them out at the last second—sped down toward the water to assume defensive positions. Childe himself vaulted over the teahouse railing, and with a zap of Electro from his delusion he’d landed in the wharf area below.

“On your marks!” he shouted. “We are the Her Majesty’s pride, and we will not disappoint her!”

“Yes, sir!” cried a nearby Cryo gunner.

“My lord,” Branka panted; she certainly hadn’t been privy to the plans but had redirected with all the other Mirror Maidens. “My lord, what can I do?”

“Gauge that sea monster’s distance,” said Childe, stopping at the very edge of the docks. “We break the wave first, but if Ningguang doesn’t take Beisht down fast I want you to use a mirror portal to get me up close to it before it can target the city again.”

“As you wish, Lord Harbinger!”

Constructs and shields were already going up around them as Childe held out both hands. Power seethed under his skin: vision, delusion, and Abyssal taint. The water under the dock churned unnaturally, suddenly glittering with pseudo stars as his influence sank into it. It wasn’t the designed purpose, but he’d learned that manifesting his celestial voyager could make one hell of a breaker too, and if he made it even bigger than usual…

Luckily he didn’t need to summon any Hydro whales.

Someone in the Guyun Stone Forest sent out their own Cryo energy, and the tsunami froze solid right before it could crash over the Jade Chamber. The Chamber ascended to renew its assault. Beisht thrashed, and the ice cracked.

“Steady!” called Childe, because ice or not that was a lot of water displacement they still had to deal with.

“Lord Harbinger, we have company,” said Branka.

Childe glanced over his shoulder to see a large group of white-haired exorcists approaching. Chongyun was near the front; when he caught sight of Childe he gave a quick nod of recognition, but otherwise they scattered fast to fill any perceived gaps in the Fatui line. It was a little weird that they cooperated so easily, but then again they were defending their home.

In the distance the ice broke. Massive chunks fell down into the water, only to freeze again as whatever Cryo user was out there continued their assault. The Alcor tacked skillfully through the obstacles; reports had them navigating ice floes in the sea around Snezhnaya in the past, so they were well practiced in maneuvering even as their cannons roared back to life. The Jade Chamber and Guizhong ballistae didn’t let up at all. Beisht swung her head back and forth, shooting jetstreams of concentrated Hydro from her mouth. There was no question that her attacks were dangerous, but the Qixing’s forces practically danced around her, distraction and opponent in the same moment and far too coordinated for this to have been a surprise.

“A storm,” Childe scoffed. “The Qixing knew she was coming, didn’t they? This is what their big medical order was for. Branka, do me a favor and look behind us. On one of the taller rooftops there’s probably going to be a pair of Adepti watching all this: a blue crane and what looks like a teenager with a demon mask. Do you see them?”

“I do, sir,” said Branka. “They’re not moving. Should we request their assistance?”  

“No. This is another one of their little tests. They’ll swoop in if they think the Qixing can’t handle it,” said Childe. “I’m guessing this arrangement is exactly what Ningguang wants.”

Ningguang once made a bold assertion that this is to be the era of the contract between Liyue and the humans. One is curious to see how she will respond to the coming storm. If she handles it admirably, one is willing to be a witness to her achievements. But if she does not, the Adepti shall not hesitate to seize control.

This was all a power play. Liyue had defended itself against Osial as a united front, but the Qixing were still wary of the Adepti’s claim to power and specifically asked them to stand back, so they could prove humans were an equal power to their age-old protectors. It was great progress for the Adepti to have allowed this instead of taking it as a slight. Zhongli was probably very proud, wherever he was to witness this. Childe kept his arms out and his elements ready regardless; no matter how well prepared the Qixing had been, he wasn’t going to leave them without a backup plan.

In the distance, Beisht changed tactics. The Qixing’s attacks held her near the Guyun Stone Forest, and as long as the ballistics could reach her she was at a stalemate. Logically, she decided that if she couldn’t go through them she would go around them. She twisted, descended, and vanished into a vortex. The Qixing’s attacks halted. The Jade Chamber hovered menacingly over the place she’d disappeared, but while the water remained tumultuous Beisht didn’t resurface.

For a long time they waited, and gradually the signs of Beisht’s presence began to ebb. The rain stopped. The dark clouds thinned. The vortex lost power. Childe was sure it was over when Cloud Retainer flew overhead, on a course for the Stone Forest; she was likely on the way to meet Ningguang and gloat about success.

“So it was a retreat instead of an advance,” Childe chuckled, relaxing his arms.

“Lord Harbinger,” called Ekaterina, running up to them with a spyglass in hand, “It appears that the creature—”

“Osial’s wife Beisht,” said Childe.

Ekaterina faltered. “Osial’s— You’re not serious.”

“If Teamaster Liu Su can be trusted she is, and I can kind of see it. Two angry water snake things. A match made in Celestia.”

Ekaterina shook her head in exasperation and moved on: “Beisht appears to have fully retreated from the area. All agents followed our anti-Osial protocols, though there was some friction with Millelith who were following their own disaster procedures. We’re already receiving accusations about being involved in summoning another hostile god, since we were able to react so quickly to it.”

“Great.”

“I recommend that you stay out of sight, sir, at least until the excitement dies down. I’ll take charge of our forces here and deal with any Qixing officials who come by with questions. It should be quite simple to answer them. We have a duty to safeguard the Northland Bank, and would of course have an emergency procedure for all threats we’ve witnessed. The fact that Beisht is so much like Osial isn’t our fault.”

“Still, it’s a shame we couldn’t go all out,” said Childe. “I know from practice that we could break up some pretty big elemental-infused waves, but I wanted to see just how big they could go—”

“Sir.”

“—And I’ve been cheated of the opportunity to fight Beisht myself! Branka here was totally ready to throw me at her. I could’ve taken her down. It would’ve been so much fun.”

“And this is why I don’t want you anywhere near a Qixing representative right now. They’ll take your bloodthirst as threats,” Ekaterina grumbled. “Here, take this and get out of sight. Our agents will gather more information and we can discuss our next steps over dinner tonight.”

“I already have dinner plans, though,” said Childe.

“Cancel them,” said Ekaterina. “If you go into the city tonight you’ll be a target of hostility, and if you bring someone back to the apartments Liyue Harbor’s rumor mill will destroy them if your other enemies don’t.”

Childe groaned. He’d really been looking forward to this! “Fine, I’ll cancel. Branka, could you track down Mister Zhongli from the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor? Let him know I’m not going to make it tonight and we’ll have to reschedule.”

“Wait, Mister Zhongli?” said Ekaterina, surprised. “But weren’t you—”

Childe winked at her, took the spyglass, and hurried away.

Most of the harbor’s crowds had been expertly evacuated, and even with danger past and everyone beginning to trickle back in, Millelith guards prevented anyone from getting too close to the waterfront. Baiju Guesthouse’s balcony was just inside their perimeter—empty, not being paid attention to—so that’s where Childe went. He leaned against the railing and peered through the spyglass.

As expected, the Traveller had been involved. She stood on the shores of Guyun Stone Forest, looking a little worse for wear as Paimon bobbed around her head. There were Millelith gathered nearby, headed by Keqing and Ganyu who were discreetly holding hands until Cloud Retainer broke away from her conversation with Ningguang, at which point they pretended badly that they hadn’t been touching at all. There too was Shenhe, shoulders sparkling with melting frost. Ah, she’d probably been the Cryo wielder who’d frozen the tsunami and gone on the attack. She didn’t appear to be injured. There was something about her face, though, the wideness and wonder in her eyes… Something good had happened out there, hadn’t it?

“It’s because you were happy, isn’t it?”

Childe blinked in surprise and turned to find Yun Jin standing by the stairs. How had she slipped in here past the Millelith?

“If it isn’t Miss Yun Jin,” Childe said sweetly. “I’m sure you’ve got lots of preparations to make for your upcoming premiere, so don’t mind me and run along.”

“I’ve been looking for you,” said Yun Jin. Obviously.

“I’m not a man who likes being found,” said Childe.

“I can see that,” she said with a wry smile. “Still, I feel like I have to talk to you. I’ve made a lot of mistakes recently. I’ve hurt people and been ashamed of myself when I realized it. Even now this is horribly rude of me, but I want to understand you, and I think there are things you need to understand about Liyue, and it torments me to the point I can hardly sleep. I can’t rest until I speak with you.”

“Then go ahead and speak, but I make no promises about listening,” said Childe.

“That’s fair.” Yun Jin approached slowly, as if he might flee anyway. When he didn’t she took the spot beside him at the railing, took a deep breath, and ventured, “The reason you sounded like that, when you spoke to Shenhe in the village… It’s because you were happy here in Liyue Harbor, and that was taken away from you.” 

Childe scoffed and lifted the spyglass again. “Does making up tragic backstories for people come so naturally to playwrights?”

Yun Jin didn’t answer right away. The waves kept crashing against the summoned breakers and Millileth shouted orders below them, but Childe knew better than to hope she’d given up on whatever conversation she was so keen on.

“Everyone believed that the Fatui were involved in Rex Lapis’ death,” she said at last. “Even after the Qixing revealed that he ascended to Celestia after a failed trial, that belief held fast. For a god who so many people loved and depended on to be gone… it’s hard to deal with. A lot of people wanted something to blame. When rumors started that Fatui were seen on the Jade Chamber during that battle with Osial, many people took that as confirmation of guilt. It didn’t matter how impossible it would be for mortals to kill an Archon, or how unfeasible it would be to teleport your way onto a flying palace over the sea in the middle of such a horrible storm, or how ludicrous it would be for the Fatui to want to be involved in the first place. You existed, and the Fatui have a bad reputation to start with, so you could be blamed. And so people hated you. But after Osial, nothing happened. If the Fatui truly wanted to hurt or take over Liyue, the battle against Osial was the perfect time to do it; all the defenders were away and distracted. And even afterward, as the Qixing solidified its power, the Fatui stood aside. Even though a Harbinger was here, there wasn’t movement toward any goal. The longer it went on, the more we started to realize there might not have been any action on your part at all. That we’d just assumed. It was only reinforced when we could catch a glimpse of you. After all… grief is easy to recognize, when you understand what you’re looking for.”

Oh, Archons. Was this sympathy? Childe fought the urge to cringe, focusing all the harder on the ice chunks in the water even when Yun Jin’s eyes felt like they were digging holes into him. And could she stop with the soft tone? It wasn’t like he was some widow getting bad news!

Yun Jin continued undaunted: “No one really knows for sure what happened, but we all know you and Mister Zhongli were very close. After Osial you kept a distance from each other, and both of you were miserable. You looked like you were grieving, and Mister Zhongli looked like he regretted something deeply. Our guess is that Mister Zhongli was frightened and stressed by the the Osial incident and Rex Lapis’ death, and in the aftermath he falsely accused you of being involved… and that was so painful for you that you argued and separated.”

“Are you trying to get a confirmation?” Childe grumbled. “More details for the rumor mill?”

“No. Whatever happened between you is private,” said Yun Jin.

“Then what’s the point of saying all this?” said Childe. “Of course I know the Fatui’s a big target to blame. We’re Fatui. We signed up for that shit.”

“That doesn’t mean it isn’t painful,” said Yun Jin. “I want you to understand this part of the picture—the people of Liyue—because I worry that you haven’t seen the whole of it. I think you’ve seen so much of the people who can’t accept these events, and not enough of us who’ve come to terms with reality. We worry for you, Master Childe. It was painful to see you hurting before, and all the more painful now that I have more information about you. It’s bad enough that a city seemed to turn on you, but that’s just the latest in a long line, isn’t it? As a Fatui, your work was scorned by most of Teyvat. Before the Fatui, your father—”

“Don’t talk about him,” Childe said sharply.

“He did something cruel,” said Yun Jin, quiet. “And if it reached that point, your home and childhood must have been painful, too. If that’s what it’s been all your life, then being here—losing a place you were happy, and a person you trusted so much—must have been heart wrenching. And I—I’m so sorry you went through that. I’m sorry that we were cruel, too. Mister Zhongli cares for you so, so much. I think that if he said something bad to you, he immediately regretted it, and he’s regretted it every moment since. If you asked him to do anything in the world, he’d do it for even a chance at reconciling with you. As for the rest of us, please give us a little more time to get our bearings, and we’ll welcome you with open arms.”

What was she even— A memory clicked in his brain. Childe tipped his head and laughed under his breath, “The key is whether you can develop a sense of belonging. You just need to find a reason.”

Yun Jin looked briefly puzzled that he’d known the Tianquan’s prize words, but said, “You can belong here. Please, don’t give up on happiness here.”

Childe laughed louder and collapsed the spyglass. “You’re a little late to that party! There was no need for you to come over here and say all that.”

Yun Jin glanced out at Guyun Stone Forest, and though she couldn’t see Shenhe from here she still smiled. “Perhaps I didn’t need to, but I wanted to. I’m glad Shenhe beat me to it. She’s rather remarkable, isn’t she?”

“She is,” he agreed. “Well, I’m heading out before one of those Millileth get smart and look up. Good luck with your premiere, and do me a favor: keep your nose out of Fatui business.”

“I make no promises, but I’d be greatly honored if you attended,” said Yun Jin.

“We’ll see.”

Childe returned to the Fatui apartments. He had a few hours of relaxing before the others returned, all thankfully uninjured and not jailed. He was summoned to the meeting room with his top agents to get their reports—the Qixing and Millelith were suspicious of them but not outright hostile, and they should expect some kind of meeting—and near the end a mystified Branka showed up with a large bouquet of glaze lilies.

“Mister Zhongli says he understands and would like to reschedule dinner for the day after tomorrow, since he’s worried that this unforeseen event might keep you busy otherwise. In the meantime he asked me to give you this, and to tell you, ah—”

Childe laughed at her obvious embarrassment. “He gave a very detailed speech, didn’t he? Give it to me in a nutshell.”

“In short, he misses you and is very much looking forward to speaking with you again.”

“As I thought.”

“Mister Zhongli?” Felix whispered. “Oh, thank the Tsaritsa.”  

“What was that?” said Childe.

“Nothing, Lord Harbinger!” said Felix, but the others whispered delightedly among themselves.

Childe was in a good enough mood not to call them out on that. With the meeting and dinner ended he went to put the bouquet in a vase, humming on his way up the stairs, and it may have been his imagination but he was pretty sure the glaze lilies perked up even before they got some water.

No Qixing representative came to bother them during the night, so Childe was fully prepared to have one show up for an interrogation the next day. He slipped into the Northland Bank early to sit in his office. This way, he reasoned, if the Qixing were coming to get him he’d at least have some gravitas on his side. But the morning passed, and the Qixing didn’t make a move. He was puzzled. Ningguang was a woman who didn’t waste time; it had been strange enough that she’d left him alone yesterday, but surely she would want to investigate the most important and most troublesome leader of an enemy faction in her city after they’d mobilized so obviously? Not even a letter sent to tell him off? Was she waiting so long on this just to make him squirm? He was downright relieved when Ekaterina knocked on his door just after noon and said, “Lord Harbinger, you have visitors.”

Finally! Childe pretended to be absorbed in paperwork (let those Millelith think he didn’t give a damn! Let them squirm!) and replied, “I don’t have time for visitors. If you’d help them arrange an appointment—”

“Oh? You don’t have time for me, Master Fruit Paste Bait?”

Childe looked up from his desk in surprise and grinned. “Young master.”

“My liege.” Xingqiu stood in the doorway, a mischievous look on his face and Chongyun just behind him. “I wondered if we could steal you away for lunch? I solemnly swear that it will have nothing to do with any Jade Chamber components.”

Well, it wasn’t as if he had any real work right now, and if he went out in public maybe the Qixing would hurry up whatever plot they had going. Childe gave some last minute instructions to Ekaterina and followed the two teenagers outside. Xingqiu and Chongyun had clearly planned this, because they led him straight to Chihu Rock, to Wanmin Restaurant. The tourist crowd was thicker than ever and plenty of people had been craning their necks to get a look at Childe as he passed, but luckily he didn’t have to deal with it here. To accommodate the overflow of customers Chef Mao had set up some rickety tables behind the restaurant, and one of them was being guarded by Guoba.

“Guo!” went Guoba, raising a paw in greeting.

“Thank you for holding our reservation, my liege,” said Xingqiu. “I take it that Xiangling is busy inside?”

“Guo.”

“I thought as much. Shall we place our orders with you?”

“Guo!”

 They rattled off their usual orders, and Guoba waddled back into the restaurant. Somehow this was properly communicated to the chefs, because within minutes Guoba returned with their food.

“I did say there would be nothing to do with Jade Chamber components, but I will admit we invited you out with ulterior motives,” Xingqiu said as he picked up his chopsticks. “It has to do with another invitation for you.”

“More even after this lunch? And here I thought I’d be unpopular again,” said Childe.

“I don’t think you’ll need to worry so much about that anymore,” said Chongyun.

“Quite right,” said Xingqiu. “You’ve heard about Yun Jin’s new opera, haven’t you? The Divine Damsel of Devastation?”

“I think I’m almost too aware of it,” Childe grumbled.  

“Yun Jin’s question for Ningguang was where she should debut it, and Ningguang has given her the Jade Chamber as a stage,” said Xingqiu. “Regardless of venue many of us had purchased tickets in advance, and I’ve found myself with an extra.”

“An extra?” said Childe, disbelieving. “Yun Jin’s most anticipated opera of the year, and you just happen to have an extra one of the massively expensive tickets?”

“Is that so hard to believe?” Xingqiu simpered, clearly up to something. “Yun Jin’s opening nights always have a distinguished audience, both for appreciation of the art and also for networking, as there’s no better place to find—”

“He’s trying to give you an opportunity to talk with Mister Zhongli,” Chongyun interrupted. “We heard he’s attending.”

Xingqiu choked and gave Chongyun a betrayed look. “Chongyun, sometimes these things need to be handled with more delicacy…”

Chongyun took a bite of food, unrepentant. “Some things are better straightforward. Master Childe’s already said publicly that he doesn’t like scheming.”

“Did I say that publicly?” said Childe.

Chongyun paused and thought very hard. “Didn’t you?”

Xingqiu shook his head and heaved a fond sigh. “Regardless. The last time we spoke there seemed to have been some confusion between you, and considering the Jade Chamber’s building, Beisht’s appearance, and Mister Zhongli’s strange disappearances, we weren’t sure if you’d had any opportunity to corner him for answers.”

That was nice of them. Meddlesome, yeah, but nice.

“I have, actually,” said Childe.

Xingqiu and Chongyun’s eyes lit up with interest. “You did?”

“I did.”

They kept looking expectantly at him, and when it became clear that was all he was going to say, Xingqiu said, “And?”

“And we’re back on speaking terms,” said Childe, smile widening.

“And what did he say about the chopsticks?” said Xingqiu.

“He—” Childe hesitated. Shit. “He didn’t actually say. I didn’t ask him.”

The teenagers groaned.

“You seem invested in this,” Childe observed.

“Of course we are!” said Xingqiu. “My liege, have you stepped back and thought about all the details going into this? All the people involved? The literary tropes? I must know how it ends!”

“We haven’t told anyone about the chopsticks, we promise,” said Chongyun, “but we really want to know what’s going on with that.”

“Me too, honestly,” said Childe. “It just keeps slipping my mind. They weren’t that important to me before, you know? I haven’t really factored them into any decisions.”

“Well, if you want any other information about Liyuean marriage customs or other aspects to factor in, we are more than happy to assist you,” said Xingqiu.

“I might take you up on that later. For now, though, if you think my life is entertaining, wait until you hear this—”

Childe regaled them with yesterday’s matchmaking quest. The teenagers loved it. From there the conversation spun off to how the lovebirds must’ve been involved in Beisht’s attack yesterday, to the winners of the Jade Chamber contest, to the strange antics of the contestants.

“Even now my father and brother are fending off people adamant that we have more Sunset Vermillionite,” Xingqiu sighed. “I fear this fervor will take quite a while to die down…”

“It’s not all bad, though,” said Chongyun. “I’m sure the tourism was good for the city, especially with that recommendation system in place.  Xiangling was actually hoping to make a Snezhnayan-themed dessert to pair with it, as part of a limited menu. She wanted us to taste test, so I’m a little surprised it hasn’t been brought out yet.”

“Yes, well, it isn’t the end of the world if it doesn’t happen today,” Xingqiu said with a false laugh.

“Right! I, uh, can’t stay out too long anyways, have to get back to work and all! Wouldn’t have the time to give her any proper feedback,” said Childe.

“It’s in your honor, though, so you should have some say in it.” Chongyun stood up, determined. “Please excuse me. I’ll check so see what the status is on that.”

When he was out of earshot Childe asked, “How offended is he going to be if I drop some mora and run right now?”

“Oh, there’s no need for that,” said Xingqiu. “If Xiangling or Guoba haven’t sent out the experimental dish already, it’s likely not been made and we’ll escape today unscathed.”

“If you’re sure…”

“You.”

They both startled and looked up to find Shenhe standing next to their table. Xingqiu glanced back and forth between her and the door where Chongyun had just disappeared.

“Me?” said Childe, confused.

Shenhe nodded. “You will be coming with me to Yun Jin’s opera.”

“I will?” said Childe.

“You will,” said Shenhe.

“Okay… I was already going with Xingqiu, though,” said Childe.

“Wrong. You’ll be accompanying me.” Shenhe sent Xingqiu a glare.

Xingqiu squeaked and a Jade Parcel slipped out of his chopsticks. “Y-yes, Aun— Ma’am! Ma’am.”

Shenhe nodded, as if to say, that’s what I thought.

“Can I ask… why?” said Childe, because they’d agreed on permission and shared some traumas, but that had been a one-time thing.

“I’ve been given a ticket to invite a friend. You meet the requirements,” said Shenhe.

“I what?” said Childe.

“Are a friend,” said Shenhe. “I will meet you at Yiyan Temple’s plaustrite lift tomorrow. Goodbye.”

She strode away and was gone just as fast as she’d arrived.

While they were still gawking after her, Chongyun returned to their table with standard jade fruit soup.

“It’s really busy in there and Xiangling didn’t get the chance to make that dish. She gave us these for free, though, and wanted Master Childe to know that—"

Xingqiu seized his arm and said, “You’re coming to the opera.”

“What?” Chongyun grimaced. “You know I don’t do well around songs and performances—”

“It turns out Shenhe’s the one taking me to the opera,” said Childe.

“So you’re the one coming with me,” said Xingqiu.

“There’s only so much space on the Jade Chamber, after all,” Childe pointed out.

“You’ll be in close proximity!” said Xingqiu.

“Definitely close enough to talk.”

“And she can’t politely escape!”

“As if she would be polite. If she tries to rudely escape, I’ll stop her for you!”

Chongyun looked back and forth between them, stunned. “She will? Then—I mean— I thought she didn’t want anything to do with my family?”

“It’s not that simple,” said Childe. “Looking through the lens of what family I knew loudly hated me and tried to kill me, you can understand why a family reunion is further down on her list of priorities. It’s not that she hates you, she doesn’t know enough about your family to have an opinion about them, good or bad. She just doesn’t care about it as an obligation. If you talk to her, she could change her mind.”

“Then—yes! Yes, I’ll go!” But Chongyun’s shoulders slumped. “We were trying to help you with this ticket but now it’s helping me. I feel cheated, somehow.”

Childe laughed.

When they were done with lunch Childe and Xingqiu fought over who would pay the bill (Childe won, citing seniority), and he returned to the Northland Bank. No one from the Qixing had shown up or sent any message, and none arrived in the afternoon or evening either. Childe and his agents were all confused, but it wasn’t like they were willing to go up and knock at Yuehai Pavilion to ask what was going on. They resolved to carry on as usual.

Childe went to bed that night and dreamed.

Dreaming in a world with Archons and Adepti was a tricky thing. Everyone dreamed, but no one ever had any way to tell if some sly immortal might sneak their way in. If anyone ever claimed that something had visited them, no one would believe them. Like, who do you think you are, to have an Adeptus visit your dream? Braggart. Why would immortals visit human dreams, anyway?

Childe was lucky in the fact that the Tsaritsa valued consent.

If ever I have to visit your dream, you will know me from the chill, she’d said, shortly after appointing him a Harbinger. A chill that would never enter a true dream. A chill to make your true form shiver, even before you wake.

It was something like the feeling of falling that might jolt one awake at night, but gentler, more gradual. It would drag the mind into coherence, if only for a short time: the Harbinger would then be able to understand what was happening, and accept her into their dreams with all the awareness they’d have if they were simply inviting her into their physical home. At the same time they could deny it, let the chill pass and fall back asleep without the Tsaritsa setting foot in their dreamscape. Denying the Tsaritsa was rare, but it had been done without consequence before. Scaramouche was rumored to have done it at least five times. Childe had never once denied her. 

On this night he felt the chill.

His body stirred.

Your Majesty, he whispered across the ocean of the mind.

His foggy dreams gave way. Suddenly it seemed he was in Snezhnaya, snow under his feet, water and fishing boats before him while lights glowed from the windows of Morepesok behind. The dream didn’t contain Morepesok’s people (they were all off dreaming their own dreams), but he could still smell the fish. What a kick of nostalgia. He barked out a genuine laugh and turned to look at the Tsaritsa standing beside him. She was elegant as always, her icy gown shimmering even as it dragged along the ground, her eyes pure and cold as he remembered.

Some people might believe that the Cryo Archon dragging you to a vision of your hometown might be a threat.

Childe knew she brought him here because he missed it. She was a gentle person, even if the mask she wore for the world seemed cruel.

“Tartaglia,” she said in greeting.

“Your Majesty,” he said again, with a bow. “How may I serve you?”

“It has been too long since last we spoke,” she replied. “You have reported to me diligently, but I have regretfully been… indisposed.”

“There’s no need to give me any explanations. I am yours to order, and I follow your will without question,” said Childe.

“You are my diligent Harbinger,” she agreed, “but a good servant deserves a good master, and I have been lacking. I am returning to my duties, so I am gathering intelligence from each Harbinger. Tell me of all that has passed since our last correspondence.”

He did. He recounted everything that had happened in the last three months: Signora’s departure, Liyue’s reaction after Osial, his shortsightedness in using the Foul Legacy during Teucer’s visit, his visit to Sumeru and tracking Scaramouche, the Jade Chamber’s reconstruction, the plea for help from the Inazuman contingent, Beisht’s appearance, Adeptus politics, and everything in between. The Tsaritsa listened in silence, clearly fitting this information into the larger picture she’d been gathering before.

“You have done well,” she said when he’d finished. “This information is vital to our cause, and I will follow through on the points you’ve made. Once I have spoken to all the Harbingers I will alert you of the changes to be made.”

“Thank you, your Majesty,” said Childe.

The Tsaritsa tipped her head, her gaze intense. “You have a question, Tartaglia. Ask it. If my alert does not come fast enough to solve whatever issue you face, I will give you orders now.”

“I do have a question, but it’s not to do with any changes for the future, only the past. We are meant to strive toward the future, so I wouldn’t dare look back like that.”

“Ask your question regardless.”

Childe bowed his head obediently and said, “I wanted to know… Why is it that I wasn’t allowed to know the truth of your contract with the Geo Archon? And why did it have to be me involved at all?”

“Many other Harbingers are powerful and talented enough for the challenge, but they do not have the same scruples that you do. Indeed, though Rosalyn was very clever in orchestrating the situation, I didn’t trust her to be on the ground and implementing it. The other Harbingers have something of a reputation in collateral damage.” The Tsaritsa paused, the barest smile lighting her face. “That is not to say that you don’t have such a reputation as well…”

“Liyue Harbor was rebuilt!” said Childe, almost a whine. “It was just a little bit of damage on the docks! Just a little bit of flooding! It’s not like anyone died!”

“Exactly,” said the Tsaritsa, and Childe found himself taken aback. “You damage things that can be rebuilt. You don’t target lives unless there’s no other choice, and so many times you leave your enemies alive while goading them to face you again when they grow stronger. You don’t appreciate involving the weak in any schemes, and even when you had backup plans in place, having to target Liyue Harbor and its civilians was foul to you.”

“Signora called me faint-hearted,” Childe grumbled.

The Tsaritsa gave a halfhearted scoff and looked out to the sea. Her eyes glistened with tears, but she didn’t let them fall.

“For Rosalyn and the others, they may not have collateral damage in such obvious ways as destroyed buildings, but they take lives in its place. Whether it is their own subordinates, those they suspect of knowing too much, or those they deem disrespectful… they will make those people vanish. And that would not have been permitted in Liyue. They may have looked to Morax and taken his calm for approval, and happily gone on tormenting his people. But I have seen the rage beneath the mountains before. There is nothing so terrible in Teyvat as Morax on the warpath. If another Harbinger had fulfilled our contract, Morax would have slaughtered them, driven all Fatui from his lands, and become our enemy.”

“Not a great outcome,” Childe said dryly.

“Not at all. That’s why I knew, as soon as the idea of a test came up, the only one I could trust was you. For so many Harbingers our cause is their opportunity for vengeance against Celestia. But we are fighting for the future of humanity. We fight so that no nation in Teyvat will suffer as Khaenri’ah did for Celestia’s insecurities and status quo. We play the role of villains and bear the world’s scorn for the sake of drawing Celestia’s eyes away from other potential victims. It’s a heavy burden. A thankless one. And to gain the power needed for that rebellion against the heavens, I’ve had to allow certain characters and actions that I don’t approve of.” She turned to look at him again. “But you are a man who values promises, and what are contracts if not promises made sacrosanct? Your priorities align with Morax’s in a way that I knew would gain his compliance, if not his respect. The best-case scenario was that he would be intrigued enough by your example to propose a more permanent partnership. After all, this contract was a one-time deal. But to have Morax and the Adepti on our side against Celestia…”

She believed in me.

Childe had known that, of course, but it was one thing to be languishing in hope and quite another to have it reaffirmed. She had seen him, recognized him, and believed in him even more than he’d known. No one gambled alliance with the oldest of the Archons on anything but a winning hand. His smile crept wider as she kept on explaining, proving further and further that there had been a point to all this madness.

“Once the contract with Morax was completed you were supposed to move immediately on to your new assignment. I wanted you to go to Fontaine, to speak with the Lochfolk. They refuse to communicate with anyone who isn’t Hydro-aligned, and with news of your attack on Liyue Harbor they would’ve considered you ‘apart’ from current human society enough to welcome you as another wandering elemental, like themselves. Considering how long it’s been, and how you’ve traveled and assisted other humans in the meantime, that route is useless now. They know you have too much of a heart to be one of them.” She heaved a long sigh. “Rosalyne was meant to pass along those orders once the Geo gnosis was ours; it was the reason she was meant to bring it back to Snezhnaya, so you could get a head start on your next assignment. Even if you were frustrated with her, I know if she said it was my order, you would’ve listened. I can only assume that she withheld it from you for some reason.”

“Petty Harbinger infighting. It’s a sad truth,” Childe chuckled. “She probably wanted to make me look slow and untrustworthy. Give her some blackmail, or at least something to complain about... She probably only meant a delay, not a real breakdown of command."

"That was in character for her, wasn’t it?” the Tsaritsa said wistfully. “She never believed she was in real danger, in Inazuma. Not until the very end.”

“I’m sorry,” Childe said quietly.

“Aren’t we all?” A single tear escaped her eye. She made no acknowledgement of it. As it trailed down her cheek it dissipated into a thin sheen of frost before vanishing entirely. “You, Tartaglia, are loyal above all others, and it is that very fact that worries me. What you’re doing now… It isn’t for the politics, is it?”

It? What was it supposed to be?

“My remaining in Liyue?” Childe guessed. “I will go wherever your orders take me.”

This was clearly the wrong answer, because the Tsaritsa’s brow furrowed even more. “I don’t doubt that. My meaning is your relationship with Morax.”

A chill went down Childe’s spine that had nothing to do with the Tsaritsa’s greeting.

“I will distance myself from him,” he said firmly, and that would hurt, he didn’t want to, especially after all the tumult he’d just gone through, but if it was the Tsaritsa’s wish—

“No,” said the Tsaritsa. She reached out one hand to cup his face, to force one warrior’s eyes to meet another’s. “I made no such order, Tartaglia. I want your answer. Are you seeking Morax’s company because you believe it pleases me, or because you believe it an advantageous political move?”

She didn’t sound happy about either option. Childe blinked at her in confusion.

“I’m sure there are plenty of political advantages,” he said slowly. “He was an Archon, after all. He’s a fantastic resource of knowledge, a powerful warrior, and he has influence still over all the humans and Adepti of Liyue. He seems to get along amicably with you as well, and believed enough in your goals to give his gnosis and his trust to you. He’s an ally, and a good one to keep. But I will not lie to you, Your Majesty. Scheming to appease him is still scheming, and I don’t like that. Any political advantage in what I’m doing is a happy coincidence.”

The Tsaritsa pondered this a moment, brushing a thumb against his cheek like a mother scrubbing dirt off an unruly child.

“Morax is fond of you,” she said at last. “I’ve known this for a while. But our contract is over. I owe him nothing, and neither do you. I will not abandon you to his whims if I have any reason to believe you’ll be unhappy. Look down into your heart. Tell me now, selfishly, cruelly—what do you want?”

Just like that day when he’d become a Harbinger, her eyes cut straight to his core. She knew him. She understood. And this time he felt weirdly small.

“I want to stay,” he whispered.

She cupped his face in both hands and said, “Then you will.”

“But I’m a Harbinger,” said Childe. “I’m yours, I—”

“That won’t change,” said the Tsaritsa. “Everyone knows that I’m a ruthless, possessive Archon. I don’t simply give anything of mine away, especially not my youngest. But Liyue Harbor is a very good strategic position, and you’ve done well to establish our hold there. I doubt any potential replacement could gather the goodwill that you’ve managed even after the contract.” She withdrew her hands, striking a casually disinterested pose. “You will still be my Harbinger, so I will still expect you to complete certain missions. As Morax likes to drone on, boats are made for transferring commodities back and forth, and you may very well be on some of those boats in the future, but I see no reason why Liyue Harbor can’t serve as your base of operations.”

Childe stared. “You— You’re not upset?”

“Why should I be? By complete accident you may be stumbling toward the most advantageous political marriage in the history of Teyvat,” said the Tsaritsa. “I would only be angry if you were unhappy. If that ever changes you may call for me, and I will bring all the might of winter against Morax if he ever hurts you.”

“Something tells me that’s not going to happen again,” said Childe.

“No, it seems out of character for him, but we Fatui do love our contingency plans.” She pulled him down and placed a kiss on his forehead. “Go forward, my Eleventh. Let nothing shackle you.”

When Childe opened his eyes it was to the dark ceiling of his bedroom. He touched fingers to his head, found the chill of frost, and barked out a joyous, disbelieving laugh.

He wasn’t entirely sure if the water on his face was tears or melting Cryo.

It might’ve been both.

There was a secluded little balcony behind the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, accessible by the stairs but avoided even by tourists for its ominous location; it was here that Childe went for lunch on the following day, and found Zhongli awaiting him with a large lunch already set out on the table.

Zhongli’s eyes locked in on the place the Tsaritsa had kissed him. “I see you’re bearing a blessing, today.”

“The Tsaritsa paid me a visit,” said Childe.

To his amusement, Zhongli’s brow knit slightly in anxiety. “I see. May I know what it is that she spoke of?”

“Exactly what you already noticed: blessings,” said Childe.

It took a moment, but Zhongli understood. He let out a soft huff of laughter, and the nerves were wiped away by a smile. “It brings me joy to hear that.”

“What brings me joy is seeing you again after that whole Beisht mess,” Childe groaned, shifting his bouquet of silkflowers from one arm to the other as he made for the table. “Did you know what was coming?”

“I had a premonition that something was happening, but the other Adepti assured me that it was under control and I didn’t have worry about it in my retirement. I had not anticipated your involvement or I would have warned you,” said Zhongli. “Are those—”

“Valley Weaver silkflowers?” Childe said with a grin. “Why yes, they are. A match for those glaze lilies you sent me.”

Zhongli accepted the flowers, eyes crinkled in delight. “A subtle yet enduring scent… Most people aren’t aware of the different varieties of silkflower or the difference in fragrance, but you’ve found my favored kind. I applaud your discernment. Did you hear of them from the Traveler?”

“Technically I heard it from you,” said Childe. “I may have been stalking you when you were gathering things for the Rite of Parting. The Statue of the Seven definitely liked this kind best.”

“Ah, not even pretending not to be involved, I see.”

“Come on, it’s all out in the open already, isn’t it? No more secrets! We have a contract.”

“That we do,” said Zhongli, and kissed his cheek. “Thank you.”

Childe’s legs got embarrassingly wobbly and he sat down quickly. “No big deal! After all, what’s the point in having spies if you can’t put all the information to good use?”

Lunch was very good. The food was delicious, including seafood that Zhongli had never liked but clearly noticed that Childe did. He talked about the Adepti in his beautiful resonant voice (Cloud Retainer was singing Childe’s praises for helping meddle yesterday), and Childe talked about the nonsense of the contest. No one came to bother them. It felt overwhelmingly right to be sitting here, together as they’d been before but so much better when no lies lay between them. Childe even told him about the Tsaritsa’s visit—not the report itself, but everything she’d mentioned regarding their relationship.

“It helps to know now that you two don’t just think of me as a pawn in your little Archon game… Or if you do, that I’m not meant to be thrown away afterward,” Childe said with a shrug.

“A pawn?” Zhongli halted partway through raising his cup and blinked at him in surprise. “Why would I ever think of you so lowly?”

“Well, I mean, you did steer me to do things for your benefit…”

Zhongli tipped his head, still clearly at a loss. “I do admit to secretly assisting you, but at no point did I think less of you. How could I, when every time we met I was more reassured, knowing it was your hands that would free me?”

Childe choked. He could feel his face going red and raised his own cup in a sad attempt to cover up the embarrassment. “That… Well, not a lot of people would think that way. And you gave the gnosis to Signora…”

“The gnoses are shackles,” said Zhongli, with a hint of bitterness. “Terrible things. I thought very little of mine, so I would not care where it went so long as it didn’t land in such a way as to cause destruction. Given the choice I would never let anyone I care for handle it, so to me it was something of a boon to hand it off to someone credible but unpleasant.”

Childe gave a strangled laugh. “You didn’t like her, huh?”

Zhongli took a sip of tea and said, “It does not do to speak ill of the dead.”

“Wow, you really didn’t like her!”

“Not enough to wish her harm, but certainly enough to deal with her as little as possible. Her constant taunting and posturing was rather puerile,” said Zhongli.

Childe took a moment to be thankful that Zhongli hadn’t been present at the original Golden House fight to bear witness to Childe’s own ridiculous posturing. In his defense he’d been hoping to spook Lumine away and minimize as much real damage as possible. How was he supposed to have known she’d kick his ass so easily?

“How is the Tsaritsa coping with her loss?” asked Zhongli, more subdued. “As I understand, you Harbingers are to her what the Adepti are to myself. To lose one of my own is agonizing, but the Cryo Archon’s core value must only exacerbate… I dare not ask directly for risk of offending her, but I do worry.”

“She’s doing better,” said Childe. “Not great, but better. She withdrew for a while, but she’s back.”

“Her last great love died in Khaenri’ah,” Zhongli said quietly. “It’s good to know that she hasn’t… shattered, as she did then.”

“The Tsaritsa won’t let anything stand in the way of her goals, not even herself,” said Childe.

They were silent a moment in grim observance of the Tsaritsa’s determination, before Zhongli shook his head and changed the subject to something safer.

“I hear from Marchosius that you have been invited to attend the premiere of The Divine Damsel of Devastation. Is that true?”

Childe nodded but frowned. “Who’s Marchosius?”

“You probably know him as Guoba,” said Zhongli. “Marchosius is his original name as the illustrious God of the Stove.”

“Guoba?” Childe was flabbergasted. Sure, Guoba was definitely not a regular animal, but he hadn’t realized he was that important, much less as dignified as what he’d heard about the Stove God. “…You know, I’ve seen Xiangling throw him through a window.”

Zhongli didn’t seem surprised; if anything he was amused. “It is the closest he gets to flying.”

Childe cackled. “Well, if anyone was good enough to be buddy-buddy with an ancient culinary god, it would be Xiangling. It’s still so weird, though. Didn’t people think you were the Stove God for a couple thousand years?”

“I have vastly improved in my cooking skills over the centuries, but I am still nothing in comparison to Marchosius’ skill,” said Zhongli. “It used to be a running joke between us that I was foremost in battle but laughable at all other aspects of life. In fact, if you visit Mt. Aocang, you will find that Cloud Retainer has frozen the time around three points of her home, where we and Guizhong had a cooking competition in our youth. It’s been four thousand years now, and I still have to look at the mess I made.”

Childe had heard about the table with its engraved chairs, but not about this. He leaned closer with a grin. “What were you trying to make?”

“Mora meat. It was the only recipe I knew at that point, which didn’t mean much at all.” His gaze turned wistful. “There was a time in the past where a great many of us would go to Mt. Aocang to drink together. I think I would like to restart that, though I would have to ask Cloud Retainer’s opinion. I believe she would agree if you were in attendance, but I fear all the cups we had for such parties are as long gone as the Guili Assembly. It will take some time to organize.”

“If it’s cups you need, look no further,” said Childe. “You remember what I told you about that auction I went to? People tried bribing me with hundreds of teacups after that and we don’t know where to put them. I’ve got all kinds, even square ones! Do you think any of those would catch Cloud Retainer’s interest?”

Zhongli blanched. He turned his head slowly, mechanically, and laid a hand on Childe’s elbow as if to break some terrible news to him. Childe put his free hand over it, his own eyes wide with alarm because Zhongli hadn’t looked like this even when faced with octopus.

“Uh… Zhongli? Something wrong?”

“No square cups,” said Zhongli. “You must never give Cloud Retainer anything square.”

“Why? Is it like her weakness or something? Can Adepti be injured by concepts like that?” said Childe.

“No. She just hates them,” said Zhongli.

“She just… Why do you look more traumatized by that than any of your stories of the Archon War?” said Childe.

“The Archon War was indeed terrible, but there is something to be said about a recurring irritation that one’s friends simply will not let go,” said Zhongli. “Do not subject yourself to that.”

“Okay, okay, point taken,” said Childe. “…She really hates square cups that much?”

“She loathes them.”

Further conversation was cut off by a clatter from below them and a taunting voice: “Oh Zhongli! Zhongli! Your break is up! Don’t think I won’t come up there to retrieve my consultant!”

Zhongli closed his eyes and replied in a long-suffering voice, “Thank you, Director Hu. I will be down momentarily.”

“Emphasis on the moment, my dear consultant! I don’t pay you to make out with your boyfriend!”

“Please excuse Hu Tao. She lacks decorum,” Zhongli sighed.

“Hasn’t she always?” Childe laughed.

Zhongli shook his head again fondly. “Going back to our earlier topic, I heard that you have been invited to the opera tonight aboard the Jade Chamber. I had already made arrangements to attend with Madame Ping, but I look forward to seeing you there.”

“Yeah, I’ll stop by to say hello when I see you up there!”

They cleaned up their meal (not fast enough; Hu Tao came to watch them, a smug smile on her face), and parted ways. Childe whiled away the rest of his afternoon by detouring to the construction site. The Jade Chamber had returned to hover above the scaffolding that was even now being dismantled, much higher but still very much visible to the tourists. The festival below it was still going strong, with crowds thick enough that he could move through it without being recognized too quickly by the people passing by. He watched a few more small shows, picked up some souvenirs (the Jade Chamber edition Aranara carvings from Acara Crafts were too cute to ignore), and circled back around Mt. Tianheng as the sun began to set in earnest. He was still early to reach Yujing Terrace, and found that he wasn’t the only one approaching the plaustrite lift.

“Yun Jin, the Traveler, and Paimon,” he said, strolling up to them. “Here I thought you’d have gone early to set things up.”

“Childe? Oh, thank goodness,” said Lumine, and it was not sarcasm. She really did sound like he was the cavalry come to rescue her.

“I don’t think anyone’s ever sounded so relieved to see me,” said Childe. “Come on, spill. How’d you manage to piss off the Qixing when you’re already their hero immune from all consequences?”

“We’re not in trouble with the Qixing!” cried Paimon. “It’s just… Well…”

“You’re still upset with Zhongli, right?” said Lumine. “That means you’re going to be wherever he’s not, which means if I’m with you I’m safe.”

Childe didn’t bother to correct her—it wasn’t any of her business—but raised a mocking brow. “Oh ho, you’ve managed to piss off Liyue’s favorite, most illustrious funeral consultant? I’d say that’s even more impressive.”

“I did not!” Lumine hissed. “…Maybe.”

“Okay, but even I didn’t manage to piss him off, so this I’ve got to hear. What did you do?” said Childe.

“Xingqiu gave him a book,” said Lumine, wringing her hands.

“Yeah, the traitor!” Paimon squeaked.

“It was a stupid book. It never even should’ve gotten here, but apparently we underestimated how hungry Liyue is for anything about their Archon—”

Something occurred to him, and Childe started laughing. “You! It was you! You’re the one who wrote Took A Trip To Liyue, Tour Guide Turned Out To Be Rex Lapis!”

Lumine covered her face with her hands and whined, “It wasn’t supposed to become anything, okay? We were trying to flood the market in Inazuma to try pushing out a dangerous spell book, so the Yae Publishing House had us working with ghost writers almost around the clock! And I’m not that creative! I just threw out dumb things I’d seen while traveling and Yae Miko used it for plots and put it under a pen name! Except now Xingqiu got a hold of a copy, and he gave it to Zhongli, and Zhongli—”

“He knew it was you immediately, didn’t he?” said Childe.

“He did,” she said miserably. “He walked up to me yesterday and told me I’d listed the wrong foods from our introductory dinner at Liuli Pavilion and described the wrong flavor profile for cured pork dry hotpot!”

“Even Paimon didn’t remember all the good things we ate back then! We were too busy paying attention to you and your insinuations!” said Paimon, stomping her foot midair. “How was Paimon supposed to enjoy cured pork dry hotpot when you were making it sound like you were introducing us to the person who covered up all your gruesome Harbinger crimes?”

“Paimon, you barely paid any attention to them. You were too busy stuffing your face,” Lumine groaned between her fingers.

“Yeah, but Paimon couldn’t enjoy it like she wanted to!” said Paimon.

“If even you don’t remember a food, the rest of us are hopeless,” Childe snickered.

“And that wasn’t the worst of it,” said Lumine. “He said—”

Paimon drew herself up, planted her hands on her hips, and did a (terrible) Zhongli impression: “Your depiction of the intricacies of Liyue Harbor and its mercantile rules was not particularly accurate, but considering you have only been in Liyue a short time it is to be expected. Perhaps we will soon remedy this. You may visit Wangsheng at any time, and I will be happy to be your guide. Ugh! Paimon thinks that’s just an excuse to mooch off our mora again!”

“And then he walked away, still reading the book,” said Lumine.  

“Well,” said Yun Jin, who seemed to be biting back laughter of her own, “if Mr. Zhongli was still reading it, surely that means he’s found something charming in it regardless of any inaccuracies. It’s quite the compliment to be equated to the great Rex Lapis, after all. Maybe he’s too shy to admit he appreciates it.”

Lumine only grew redder, and Childe only laughed harder; they both knew that Zhongli probably thought it was funny.

“What are you laughing about?” asked Shenhe, walking over to them.

“Multiple cases of mistaken identity,” said Childe. “Are you looking forward to the opera?”

“I am,” said Shenhe. “Yun Jin said after meeting me that she wished to change the story. I think it was fine the way it was, but look forward to seeing the new version too.”

“It’s hard to go wrong with any of Yun Jin’s operas,” said Childe, nodding sagely.

“Wait, you watch operas?” Paimon gasped. “But you’re so… so…”

“Charming and cultured?” Childe teased. “I’ve worked as an actor in the past, you know. And if I know a story and someone’s telling it badly, I’m always happy to steal their stage and fix it!”

“You will not be doing that this time,” said Shenhe.

“Of course not! I have the utmost faith in Yun Jin’s performance,” said Childe.

“Can we not talk about her like that right before she’s supposed to sing?” said Lumine, pained. “If I were in her place you’d just be making me anxious.”

“I appreciate the concern, but I’ve long gotten over my stage fright,” Yun Jin chuckled. “We really should be moving on, though. The banquet should be starting soon and I still need to do some last minute preparations.” She walked up to the man near the plaustrite and said, “Excuse me, but do you sell the moon here?”

“Yes, we do,” said the man, “but for you tonight, it is free. Please, go ahead.”

They boarded the plaustrite together, and it slowly brought them up to the Jade Chamber.

The Jade Chamber was not a small construction. It had a wide courtyard in its front flanked by decorative trees and lily ponds, and a wide walking path around its perimeter. Tables had been set up on its pavement to support the grand banquet. The stage had been erected at the courtyard’s edge: an illustrated golden backdrop with lines of glowing lanterns to flank it, bold against the clear night sky and mountains beyond. Childe had thought he was early, but clearly not; almost all of the seats were taken by the time they stepped off of the plaustrite lift.

“Welcome, Miss Yun Jin,” said an attendant. “I believe you have everything you need?”

“I do, but I’m doing one more check through to be safe. I know where to go,” said Yun Jin.

“Very well. Traveler, Shenhe, and guests, your seats are reserved. This way, please.”

Their table was one of the closest to the stage, something that would’ve been extraordinarily expensive if they’d actually had to pay for it. As he sat down Childe looked around. Sure enough, everyone here was rich. Many wore their finest clothes. Two tables over he saw Xingqiu’s family and Chongyun (the teenagers subtly waved), and further toward the back were Zhongli and Madame Ping (Zhongli met his eye and inclined his head with a smile).

“So you’ve made it,” said a silky voice. Ningguang herself had come to the table, flanked by two of her secretaries. “Traveler, Shenhe, I’m glad you could come.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” said Lumine.

“Yeah! Good food, good music, what else could we ask for?” Paimon giggled.

Ningguang shifted her gaze to Childe next. Baiwen and Baixiao grimaced at the sight of him, but Ningguang was never so careless in her expressions. She looked at him with cool calm and said, “It is also an honor to have someone so dignified as a Harbinger attend the Jade Chamber’s opening ceremonies.”

Childe returned this with a sharp grin: “It’s an honor to be aboard this most dignified Tianquan’s masterpiece without being thrown off the side.”

“You can put that out of your mind,” said Ningguang. “When the first Jade Chamber rose, I dreamed that one day its shadow would be seen in all seven nations of Teyvat. It is auspicious that at this new ascension delegates of all those seven nations are together to celebrate it.”

“If that makes you feel better, sure,” said Childe.

Ningguang raised a single eyebrow as if to say, that attempted jab is so sad it’s not worth engaging with. Very Pantalone of her.

Aloud she only said, “I trust you will enjoy the evening.” She moved to the spot before the stage, opened her arms to get everyone’s attention, and announced, “All of you here are my distinguished guests. I am determined that each of you thoroughly enjoys yourself. Fine food and drink is a delight to the senses, but they are far from the only ones. I trust you will find the marvelous view from the Jade Chamber to be an equally gratifying indulgence.”

With that, the food was served. Childe was used to good food, but Ningguang had gone above and beyond. All around them people chattered excitedly.

“Can you believe Lady Ningguang got Yun Jin to perform in honor of the Jade Chamber’s ascension?”

“The ceremonial banquet is good, but honestly, Yun Jin is the main reason I’m here! I’ve never missed any of her performances and I don’t intend to start now!”

“She’s performing The Divine Damsel of Devastation, written by her father. I’ve been so excited that I’ve barely slept the last few nights!”

Childe glanced at the others to gauge their reaction to the gossip. Lumine’s brow was furrowed; clearly she was still worried about Yun Jin. Paimon was being a glutton, of course.

“Mmm, Paimon knew Ningguang would serve the best stuff! Ooh, it’s all so good! Lumine, try this one!”

“I was actually trying this one first—”

“Then Paimon will eat it all herself! None for you!”

“Wait, that’s not fair!”

“The fanciest food in the fanciest place in Liyue, and they’re acting like that,” said Childe, amused. “What do you think about it so far?”

Shenhe had pulled a single bowl of jewelry soup before herself, and looked down at the vegetables as if they might impart some vital knowledge to her.

“My master has eaten this before,” she said. “Usually we subsist on herbs and flowers such as the qingxin, but if someone brings jewelry soup to that stone table she will emerge from her abode no matter what she’s been working on. I have always wondered why. If it is some leftover contract from someone long gone, or if Cloud Retainer simply likes it. But what could be good enough to tempt her like that?”

She hesitated, then brought a spoonful to her lips.

“Well?” said Childe.

She was quiet a little longer to savor the taste. “It is… not as bitter as I’m used to.”

“Not many people eat herbs plain, so that’s understandable. Is it bad?” said Childe.

“Not… bad,” she said, but clearly wasn’t sure what to make of it.

“Let’s try finding something even less bad,” said Childe. “Here, try this one. It’s not so mild, but I hear Cloud Retainer’s eaten this alongside jewelry soup before…”

When they’d first met, Shenhe was known for ordering countless delicacies, taking a bite of a single dish, and snubbing the entire table. Now she was still eating a single bite of each, but she weighed their flavors and paid attention as Childe talked about the taste and aspects of each, genuinely looking for something that appealed to her. In the end her favorite turned out to be dragon beard noodles. Foolishly, Childe felt as proud as he’d been to get Teucer to eat vegetables during his visit.

Eventually most of the guests had eaten their fill, and Ningguang called, “Please direct your attention to the stage, where Miss Yun Jin shall perform The Divine Damsel of Devastation.”

Yun Jin climbed the steps and took a moment to compose herself in the middle of the stage. No one spoke in the silence; no one dared so much as move a chopstick in the tension. And then she moved. She swayed to the side like a reed in the wind, arms reaching out to coax their attention as she began to sing.

She sang The Divine Damsel of Devastation: of a monster summoned by madness, struck down by a girl with cold steel in hand; how the Adepti took her and bound her in red string; how when she returned, it was to long abandoned ties. But she didn’t leave it at her father’s original story.

“From the world she seems apart, but there are those who know her heart,” she sang, and went on into Shenhe’s role in the defeat of Beisht.

“The crane once returned, and once, she was spurned. She turned and left alone. Now…” She looked out to the table where Shenhe sat, her eyes warm and smile soft. “Now, with friends all around, to whom she is bound: a home.”

Shenhe’s expression was unmoving as usual but her eyes were wide and bright. Childe had been buoyed up by Zhongli and his Tsaritsa, and this opera seemed to be Shenhe’s parallel in support and reassurance: proof that she was valued and welcomed. This was her permission.

The other guests, ignorant to this revelation, clapped and raised their cups. Yun Jin bowed before leaving the stage, and her first stop was their table.

“What did you think?” she asked. “Personally I thought I sang rather well.”

“It was beautiful! Paimon wants to learn how to sing like that too!” Paimon cooed.

“It was wonderful,” said Shenhe. “Also… thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Thanks to you, The Divine Damsel of Devastation is a more nuanced tale than ever,” said Yun Jin. “The play has an ending, but life goes on. I believe you will find your place in Liyue Harbor.”

Shenhe looked between her and Childe, the slightest smile on her face. “Thank you. I think I’ve found the opportunity I needed to change.”  

This heartwarming little exchange was interrupted by a drunken guest tottering over to them.

“Miss Yun! Here you are, great to see you! And hey, this young lady with the white hair looks like some kind of VIP!”

Shenhe’s smile vanished. “You are not a part of this conversation.”

“Yeah, that’s it, like an Adeptus!” the drunkard went on, ignoring her. “Wait, you’re the girl from the opera, aren’t you? Divine indeed! And look who else you’ve got here, the illustrious Traveler and— ugh, that Harbinger. Whatever, still worth showing up for. Let me pull up a chair, alright? And then let’s have a friendly chat with all of you lovely ladies—”

“Alternatively you could leave us alone. That is, if you’d prefer to finish your drink via the orifice of your own choice,” said Shenhe.

“Oh, no, not again,” Lumine groaned.

“What?” said Shenhe. “I am simply stating the obvious. I could knock his head against the ground a few times if you prefer that. Then he wouldn’t be so obnoxious.”

Childe gave a happy sigh. “You’re the best, Shenhe.”

“I know,” said Shenhe.

“No! No, we are not doing that!” said Paimon.

“Then I will recruit an alternative route that you would approve.” Shenhe looked over her shoulder. “Chongyun.”

Chongyun and Xingqiu sat up straight in their seats. “Y-yes?”

“You are my nephew, are you not? Come and take this empty seat before this fool infects us with his idiocy.”

Chongyun brightened. “Yes, Auntie!”

“Xingqiu, why don’t you take my spot, too?” said Childe. “I’ve got to check in with someone quickly, but I’ll be right back.”

Xingqiu did so, frantically mouthing, thank you!

“I’ll be off to check in with the other guests,” said Yun Jin. “This may have been the premiere, but I would like feedback from the audience to see if it can be improved. Please excuse me.”

The drunkard reached after her, spluttering, but Yun Jin sped off toward Ningguang and all the other desirable ladies turned away for their own conversations. Childe snickered to himself and looked over the rest of the tables. Zhongli’s seat was empty. Madame Ping was chatting with Gentry Maocai, but caught his eye and tipped her head toward the walkway.

Childe left the courtyard, following the curve of the path until he found Zhongli standing beside a large stone lantern. He was facing out, to the Guyun Stone Forest in the distance and the glow of Liyue Harbor below.

“Seeing anything interesting?” asked Childe.

“Give it another moment and you’ll see it too,” said Zhongli.

Childe took the spot beside him and looked down. “Hmm, I spy the Golden House, the Pearl Galley, a— What is that?”

His question answered itself as a shower of color erupted below them.

“Fireworks!” Childe laughed, as another one—shimmering white this time—blossomed with a bang and a rattle. “I wasn’t expecting those tonight!”

“These are the products of Naganohara Fireworks in Inazuma,” said Zhongli. “As I understand it, they’re a gift from Captain Beidou to celebrate the Jade Chamber’s return. Lady Ningguang will likely spin it as a public display to finish out the contest festivities, but they were rather personal. They are beautiful, are they not?”

Greens, blues, fiery oranges, and purples flashed in the night, their glows dancing over Zhongli’s handsome face.

“Yeah, they are,” said Childe. “You know, I’ve got a personal thing I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

“Then please, do so now,” said Zhongli.

“It’s about the dragon and phoenix patterned chopsticks you picked out all those months ago,” said Childe. “I had a little conversation with some locals about dragon and phoenix meanings, so I wanted to clarify, here… Are we somehow engaged, with those?”

“We are not,” said Zhongli. “Entering such a contract requires the understanding and consent of both parties which, under the terms of the Tsaritsa’s contract, was impossible at the time. No, it was… a whim. A selfish whim.”

“So I should take these as business chopsticks?” said Childe, brow raised mockingly.

“Technically yes, though my intentions were not so clear cut. I did like the idea of a connection between us, which is why I gravitated to that particular design.” He shook his head, and any embarrassment fell away for a smile. “Rest assured, when I make a proposal, it will be unmistakable.”

“Oh?” said Childe. He was smiling too. His face hurt with the force of it. “When you make a proposal?”

“Unless that does not please you?” said Zhongli, but he’d caught on to the teasing tone.

“Woo me and we’ll see.”

“I’d intended to.”

The fireworks continued to bloom, their friends chattered out of sight, Zhongli was smiling, and at least for the moment, all felt right in the world.