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Every year during the Lantern Rite, the people of Liyue send lanterns up into the sky with hopes that the gods will read their wishes and grant them their desires. For years Xiao has cast his gaze away from the floating lights, an odd assortment of something bitter but bright lodging itself in his chest every time the festival came around. Only in years where he felt particularly contemplative would he stand on the top of a distant hill to observe the candles drift up into the darkened sky—only to be called away too soon by the groans of vengeful spirits rising up from the dark depths once more. I don’t understand the fleeting whims of humans, Xiao would think. Their annual release of trash into the sky is beyond me.
For the first time ever, Xiao feels compelled to send a lantern of his own.
At one point in time, there were few things in Xiao’s life that he had considered precious to him; his loyalty, his debt, and his history. He lived in numbness, hiding his frail heart behind a mask that wore away as he served his self-assigned debt. He found short respite in piteous plates of almond tofu and wistful notes, only able to close his eyes briefly in the fleeting comforts of the dreams he ate. He was comprised of one part gratitude, two parts grief.
That list has increased significantly as time passed. It took a couple hundred years of grueling battles, some uncertain number of frightened passersby, and a couple of determined travelers who decided to stay, but Xiao can finally admit that he’s started to see the pleasures of life.
For one, he has learned to love the rain. It no longer serves as a means to wash away the blood off of his hands nor a way to mask the hot dewdrops sliding down his cheeks, but a cooling, soothing rush down his skin as he dances in it. The wind serves no bigger purpose than to lift him up high into the sky as far as his eye dares to see. When the golden sun crests above the horizon, he soaks up its rays with a smile. At night when the moon hangs high with the stars, he dances in the flowers to a flute’s lilting song.
The boy is as beautiful as the instrument he plays. He sits on the same rock every night, posture firm and fingers poised gently on the keys. He’ll offer Xiao a cheeky wink and a gentle smile before taking a soft inhale. Then he’ll begin.
Venti loves apples most but makes a mean ratatouille. He despises cheesy pancakes and thinks almond tofu is boring. He loves to stand in the spotlight and shine, sing of forged signatures and other mischievous deeds. His greatest wish is to roam and experience the world. He is the embodiment of freedom, the personification of the gusts that run over the hills. He can run across plains and over oceans, can bound up into the clouds so high that Xiao thinks if he willed so he could pluck the stars right out of their places.
His hands are always warm when they wrap around Xiao’s cool ones. His eyes shine like the jade sea and he smells like summer rain. His lips feel like home, pressed warm and soft against Xiao’s temples, his cheeks, his hands.
Somewhere along those fading lines marking time did Xiao fall in love. He could drown in those childish soliloquies and embarrassing serenades endlessly. He’d gladly offer his hands to swing the spirit around night and day, for minutes and hours on end. For once, for a first, he wants eternity, for better or for worse.
And so, the Vigilant Yaksha has a wish. Just one.
I want to spend the rest of my life with you.
-
“What’s this, Xiao?” Venti held the paper lantern on a hooked finger, curiously looking at the quickly reddening adepti. “Are you making a wish too?”
“Yes,” Xiao nodded. “I brought one for you, too.”
It’s been eons since Xiao has picked up a paintbrush. The last he remembers is when Guizhong taught him, completely appalled that Zhongli didn’t think of educating the yaksha. The lines are shaky and there may be a fumbled end or two, but it’ll do the job. A quick glance at Venti has him lighting the candles, slightly shaking fingers guiding the lantern as it rises. The two of them drift up into the sky from the lone peak, far from the mass being released down at the harbor. They float gently, shifting left and right as if they were dancing together.
“What did you wish for,” Xiao asked. Venti chuckled and intertwined their fingers, shuffling close and resting his head in the crook of Xiao’s neck.
“Nothing I don’t already have.
“But forever would be nice.”