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Perhaps it should have come as less of a surprise to Zhongli that, for all his careful preparation, mortal life wasn’t as big of an adjustment as he would have thought. In contrast to his way of life thousands of years ago, in the heat of the Archon War when the full might of his Gnosis was utilized, it was a far change, but… he had already shifted away from the mentality of being Morax, Rex Lapis, Oldest of the Seven (what have you) a long time ago. The loss of his divinity, or more aptly the giving away, was a mere formality at this point.
He was now simply Zhongli, consultant at the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, and— Hu Tao snapped a manicured finger in his face, drawing his attention— he had a job to do.
“Hello,” she said pointedly, turning her head to peer at him from under her large hat, “Mr. Zhongli, please focus. We have a very important client coming in. I told you all about it this morning. Were you even listening?”
He hadn’t been, though he could gather the details based on how Hu Tao had been fluttering around the Parlor in preparation for their guest’s visit, her excited activity startling the Ferrylady, who did not do well with their Director’s energetic bursts of movement. Zhongli had instead been preparing his own matters, thinking of the best way to convince Childe to accompany him to Yunjin’s upcoming play.
Because where were his thoughts if not for Childe, nowadays? Childe, who was the most unexpected outcome of his transition to mortal life, though hardly an unwelcome one. Here was the person who had given him, after all these years, the practical demonstration of Guizhong’s lessons on emotion, on love and its influence on humans, albeit in a form she could have never predicted. Was it any surprise Zhongli would prefer to think of him over Hu Tao and her antics?
Hu Tao cut off his thoughts once more. “Clearly you weren’t,” she sighed in mock-disappointment. “That’s fine. He’s a big time merchant and he recently bought a whole bundle of coffins, isn’t that great? Fantastic for business! I don’t know why he wants to meet now considering the order had been fulfilled a long time ago— I pride myself on my speedy delivery, after all— but he hasn’t paid for them yet, so I hope that’s why.”
It wasn’t uncommon for businesses in Liyue to allow advanced orders from well-known members of the community, the unspoken ties of trust among merchants allowing for a credit system that normally worked quite well. However, the fact that Hu Tao was mentioning it meant that it had likely been a much longer time than was acceptable for the coffins to have remained unpaid for.
“Hm,” Zhongli said, tapping a hand on his chin thoughtfully. “And I must accompany you in case our guest places any other order, or is in need of a funeral consultation, correct?”
“Yup,” the Director nodded, plum blossom on her hat swaying slightly, “I have no idea what it could be!” She sounded far too cheerful for someone at risk of being scammed out of money, but before he could chastise her the door opened, the faint sound of bells drifting through the space. “Oh, there he is,” she said, completely unnecessarily (Zhongli had eyes), “He looks pretty sick, isn’t that great? Maybe we will be planning a funeral after all.”
He had long since stopped being shocked at Hu Tao’s lack of tact regarding the health and well-being of their clientele, but he recognized their merchant guest as someone who frequently listened to the tales of storytellers alongside him.
Gentry Maocai, one of Liyue Harbor’s wealthiest residents, looked far more gaunt than usual. There may have been some logic in Hu Tao’s rambling after all, though he was more concerned with the lack of payment. Credit, though only a verbal agreement, had certain expectations that should be adhered to.
Still, that was not in his jurisdiction, given his role was to be a consultant, so Zhongli remained quiet as Hu Tao greeted their guest and ushered him to a seating area. The Ferrylady was there only momentarily, setting a pot of tea down before bowing her way out, and soon it was just the three of them awkwardly staring at each other.
When it was apparent that neither Hu Tao nor their guest had any intention of speaking, Zhongli took it upon himself to start, offering only a simple, “What can we do for you?” before Gentry Maocai launched into his reason for visiting.
“I had ordered some coffins recently,” said the man, all his normal airs still about him despite his haggard appearance, “There’s been a turn of events. We will be needing more.”
Hu Tao quirked an eyebrow. “Oh?” she asked, leaning slightly closer in a way that was far too intimidating for someone of her stature, “I’d be happy to assist you with that, so long as the previous batch is paid for. Quality rest for the deceased isn’t cheap, you know— and you can be sure of the quality!”
Zhongli could only watch as Gentry Maocai’s face turned even more grey, paling at the mention of payment. “Surely we can arrange for that another time, no?” he said, a halfhearted attempt at maintaining a jovial tone. “I trust that my long standing patronage of establishments in Liyue more than speaks for itself?”
“How long has it been, Director?” Zhongli had to gather more of the details before determining if it would be acceptable to provide the man with more coffins or not.
“Five months,” his boss replied plainly, the look on her face suggesting she found the merchant’s growing discomfort with the conversation amusing. “Rather long, don’t you think, to be owing us the Mora? And now another batch?”
Their guest looked like he was going to bolt from the Parlor, perhaps not expecting the generally good natured Hu Tao to take her business quite so seriously. Zhongli decided he had heard enough; he detested behavior like this, and had never been that fond of Gentry Maocai anyway.
“Have we not been hospitable enough, already?” Zhongli asked, knowing he would receive no response. They had been very gracious, allowing five months without payment. “No matter what it is you owe, you can’t run from your debt. Is it not time to collect it?”
Gentry Maocai paled at the words and stood up hurriedly, stammering some half-baked excuse and brushing his way out of where they were sitting and past the Ferrylady until at last he left, the door to the Parlor slamming shut. “Was it something I said?” Zhongli wondered, amber eyes widening. He hadn’t meant for the merchant to just up and leave; after all, they had yet to settle things. He considered the lack of payment a breach in contract, especially for one so wealthy; it wasn’t something that could be left alone.
Hu Tao snickered. “He’s gotten into a lot of hot water with the Fatui recently, and you sounded exactly like them. Did you see his face? You scared the poor man half to death!”
“I was merely informing him that his unsettled payments cannot remain unsettled forever.”
“It’s not like we can enforce it, anyway,” she sighed out, some of the amusement bleeding away from her face as she considered it. “Not like anyone would believe a funeral parlor over him, and the Millelith already don’t like me much. They won’t be on our side.”
Zhongli frowned and made to stand up. “If he refuses to cooperate with civil discussion, there are other ways to enforce a contract. It would be simple enough; he clearly has no experience in martial arts, and while his guards may object, it shouldn’t be terribly difficult.”
“Woah,” Hu Tao grabbed his arm and tugged him back down, Zhongli’s long limbs ungracefully sprawling across the sofa, “Calm down. Seriously, your boyfriend’s really rubbing off on you, huh? Please don’t fight our clients.”
“Oh.” He couldn’t help but smile a little at the mention of Childe. It wasn’t that he never had the urge to spar or fight (one couldn’t win the Archon War without that kind of mentality), but in recent years it had died down in favor of the comfortable domesticity that being a productive member of the Harbor provided. Perhaps in his efforts to regain the Harbinger’s trust after the Golden House debacle, however, it had crept its way back into Zhongli’s manner of speech.
She had the gall to laugh in his face. “You sound more and more like him every day. Relax. How about this— you go meet him for lunch, and stay out of my hair for a little bit. Shoo!”
Before Hu Tao could push him all the way out of the door, he stopped to think about a more rational way of resolving their problem. “You’re right. Fighting him would be unseemly; instead, please get in contact with Yanfei,” he informed her. The young half-Adeptus would be more than able to handle their current dispute. She waved her hand around absently in agreement and then shoved him outside, firmly telling him to not return until he had eaten.
In her own way, Zhongli mused as he took the familiar route over to Northland Bank, this was the Director caring for him, more thoughtful than she let on. It had been a while since he had seen Childe, anyway, though when he arrived Ekaterina had to inform him that the Harbinger he was after was already out for lunch.
It was easy enough to guess where Childe was, the two of them both arguably a little too fond of Wanmin Restaurant. Drawing closer, he could make out the orange head of hair he was looking for, bent over in conversation with young Xiangling.
“Maybe,” Childe was saying, Zhongli clearly catching him mid-sentence, “If I’m remembering correctly, you make the black-back perch stew with violetgrass, yes?”
“Yeah,” confirmed Xiangling, “but for some reason the recent batches have been so lackluster I can’t serve them! I can’t even experiment on new dishes because this stew is taking up all of my time.”
Zhongli thought the reason was fairly obvious, but before he could interject Childe snapped his fingers. “I’ve got it,” he said, evidently pleased with himself, “When have you been gathering the ingredients? Violetgrass is a plant that enjoys a moist environment, so you really have to wait to pick it until after it rains. Ah, and you have to store it a particular way too, so that it retains its moisture until you’re ready to use it, if it dries out the taste won’t be what you’re looking for and won’t suit the fish.”
“You’ve been paying attention,” Zhongli interrupted, dropping a kiss on Childe’s hair and then sliding into the seat next to Xiangling. There was no food on the table. Good. That meant he was on time for lunch.
“I thought it was you talking, at first,” Xiangling giggled at them both, “Never thought Mr. Childe would know so much about Liyue’s specialities. Your lectures are paying off, then!”
“Of course I have been.” Childe seemed offended. “I always listen to what you have to say.” Though it was said in a nonchalant manner, the tips of his ears went an endearing shade of red— the Tsaritsa’s Vanguard, terrifying weapon of war, in the flesh.
“And that’s enough for me,” Xiangling announced, clapping her hands together as she stood and then brushing them off on her dress. She wrinkled her nose at the affectionate display. “I’m going to go and take stock of how we store the violetgrass, and then wait for it to rain. You two just let me know if you want to order anything else.”
When she had gone, Zhongli turned to his companion. “Since when do you lecture?”
“That’s hardly fair,” Childe frowned back at him, fingers clutching at his chopsticks in what Zhongli could only assume was practice for when the food arrived, “You talk so much. All the time. Constantly, actually. And it’s my fault I’ve picked some of it up?”
“It is quite sweet, is all.” Childe’s gaze softened at that, then even more so when Zhongli bent closer to adjust his grip, “correcting” his position (in reality only taking the shameless opportunity to hold his hand). “And besides,” he smiled ruefully, “Recently, it has appeared that I may have, ah, picked up some of your speech as well.”
Though he had been saved from having to elaborate on what he meant by speaking like Childe, the man in question was extremely persistent, and had spent the better portion of their trip out to the Liyuen countryside needling at him for an explanation.
“Come on,” he was saying, one arm thrown over Zhongli’s shoulders and hand coming up to mess with his long ponytail. Zhongli had to swat him away. “It can’t be that bad, talking like me.”
He was so tired. So, so tired (he loved him). “It can indeed,” Zhongli said solemnly. “The Fatui are far from welcome in Liyue Harbor.”
“Yeah, yeah, everyone hates us, wanting us gone is the only thing the Qixing and your Adepti agree on, if Ningguang could personally send me back home on a boat she would’ve by now, I get it. I know. But what’d you say?”
He couldn’t tell if it was a bad thing that Childe was so honest about the Fatui’s reputation in Liyue (and the rest of Teyvat— they didn’t exactly go out and made friends), though at least Childe himself was regaining credibility in the eyes of the city’s residents. He spent too much Mora to remain a subject of hatred for long.
Zhongli sighed. “Nothing, really.” Then, dropping his voice, added: “All I said was that if a merchant with a debt to pay refuses to cooperate diplomatically, it is possible to garner his cooperation in other ways. Both the Director and myself are proficient in using a polearm.”
Childe cackled at him, though Zhongli didn’t mind in the slightest. He always liked Childe best when he was laughing, face all the more lovely when it was lit up in happiness. “She doesn’t know about the, uh—” he gestured vaguely at Zhongli’s chest, fingers moving to adjust one of his suit’s clasps, “Archon stuff, does she?”
“I don’t believe so.” Who knew, though, with Hu Tao. She may well have been feigning ignorance this whole time.
“Well, it sounds like a Morax kind of line to me ,” Childe scoffed, “but figures she’d assume it was my doing.”
“I’m glad it amuses you so,” said Zhongli, grabbing at the hand that was still loosely pointed to his chest to intertwine their fingers and tug Childe along. “She wasn’t half wrong. Your influence on me is no small matter.”
Childe let himself be dragged along, always content to be shown around the expanses of Liyue. He had made it abundantly clear that he would one day return the favor when they visited his home in Snezhnaya; Zhongli had had zero say. You’re coming back home with me , was all he had said, and that was that. But for now, with arguably the best possible person to play tour guide for him, Childe was quite agreeable.
Zhongli enjoyed these little strolls. Walking was a fond pastime of his, dating back to the first settlements in Guili Plains, where it was necessary to frequently check how his people were doing. The need was no longer there, yet the walks persisted past the responsibility. And Childe, too, was more subdued outside of the Harbor, calmer when he was no longer set against the clamor of the busiest port in Teyvat, instead paying careful attention to all the scenery Zhongli was pointing out, only stopping to tug him into a kiss or two as they made their way along the path.
Childe had dragged him off the path to peck all over Zhongli’s face in a way that was slightly obnoxious but mostly endearing when a pack of hilichurls came wandering up the path. Breaking away from his current task, Childe at first seemed annoyed by the interruption but lit up at the sight of potential enemies.
Zhongli couldn’t even get a word out before his excitable boyfriend had leapt out into the fray of battle, hydro blades already shining a bright blue against the sun and slashing efficiently every which way. All he could do was summon a barrier for them both, one to protect himself from stray projectiles (contrary to his earlier attitude, he had no desire to fight. Getting blood out of his suit was a hassle) and one for Childe.
The shields, actually, had been the subject of an argument once, back when the knowledge of his divinity was a new revelation and Childe mistook it for Zhongli thinking of him as weak. “I don’t need your protection,” the man had said, stubborn to a fault. “I can handle myself.” It had been a painstaking process to explain that although he knew someone who had been given the title of a Harbinger was absolutely fully capable, he needed the reassurance of knowing a loved one was safe.
Childe had come to terms with it eventually, and besides, shields were nice. Zhongli liked shields. They were the natural extension of his element, as simple as breathing. And his own, in particular, were quite nice to look at, if he would go so far as to brag— the pinnacle of six thousand years of experience.
Unfortunately, all that time meant nothing if his concentration was disturbed, and the arrival of a particularly fierce-looking lawachurl that quite literally heaved a giant boulder at the two of them was… a distraction. “Ah,” Zhongli let out, now out of breath and no longer amused. “This is getting—”
“Interesting?” Childe finished for him, casting a brief glance backward to make sure Zhongli was okay before leaping at the creature with a snarl, uncaring when a flying rock grazed his face and slashing wildly.
“Fuck… you… and your… stupid rocks…” Childe was saying, a flurry of motion around the unnecessarily large hilichurl, hacking away at it little by little. Zhongli was content to let it happen until Childe’s arm got hit as well, then decided enough was enough and subdued their opponent by summoning a rock of his own. From the sky. Because he was better than the lawachurl.
Childe rolled his eyes. “Isn’t that a bit overkill?” he sighed, allowing Zhongli to fuss over his scratches. The effect of his mock criticism was destroyed when he smiled at how Zhongli gently moved his mask back into place and tucked an errant strand of hair behind his ear, taking special care to make sure it didn’t catch on the earring. “Aren’t we pretty cute, though?” Childe added as they moved away, continuing on their stroll as if nothing had happened.
“What do you mean?”
“We’re even finishing each other’s sentences now, isn’t that absolutely awful? I bet my siblings are gonna be sick of us when we go to Snezhnaya.” Childe seemed all too pleased by the thought. Perhaps that was irritating behavior; he had very little practical knowledge on the subject. No matter. If Childe was happy then so was he.
“I suppose you’re right,” Zhongli replied, twining their arms together, “We’ll have to test the theory.”