Archive of Our Own

i.

She's opened the same book again.

Gold letterings burst to life against the afternoon sun, the emerald, leather-bound novel resting lightly on her palm. It's a tale he's quite familiar with. His own copy had a permanent spot at his bedside drawer, after all - filled with folded pages of his favorite passages and fast scribbles of thoughts he was afraid would fade away.

He’s not sure how many times he’s re-read it. There was something about the way the ink lifted from the pages and transformed before his very eyes – like memories rather than mere moments in the novel, and companions he swore he made promises to, not characters trapped in its confines.

But, at the end of the day, he could never really place why this particular novel always satiated the sting in his heart. Like the calm after calamity.

He’d always wanted to ask somebody else, that perhaps their insight would eventually lead to his own. But, being the rare piece that it is, he didn’t think anyone would know about it. Although he can’t deny that him being an absolute recluse didn’t help, either.

He looks back down the aisle where she still stood, the setting sun filtering through the glass walls of the store and enveloping her corners, softening her features and making the simple task of asking a question appear to be not so daunting – a spotlight on the stage directing him to the perfect opportunity. Her eyes were… far. Beyond. Engrossed completely in the world of the tale. 

He could ask her…

He immediately tosses the thought away. He wouldn’t even know how to phrase the question to begin with, let alone willingly walk out of the confines of his very peaceful, very quiet bubble of solitude.

"Ah, Xiao, sorry! I think I double-scanned it again!"

Pop . Well, there goes that.

Xiao sighs, adjusting his glasses and heading quickly for the cashier, only to stagger in place and blink at the mountain of sticky notes that sat atop the counter, packs of yellow, blue, green and pink all jumbled together. A familiar head pops up from behind, two braids bouncing from his shoulders, giving him a single wave and a light "ehe~!" 

Xiangling grins at him nervously, jutting a thumb at the piles of paper. "Can he even afford all of this?"

"I can hear you, y'know," Venti responds with a pout. "It's for an art project!"

"Doesn't really answer the question," Xiao mutters, picking up one of the yellow packs. "You're sure you want to buy a hundred of these?" 

"Uh," Venti starts. "I may have possibly only brought enough mora for about... forty."

Xiao scowls. "Does this look like forty to you?"

“Ehe… well, see, I kinda just grabbed at whatever was there, and I can always return what I don’t end up–” 

Xiao raises a hand, cutting him off, and threatens slowly, “No. Refunds.”

"Thirty, then," Venti concludes with a gulp. "I'll just, uh, come back for more in case I run out!"

Xiao sighs, dreading the time he was about to waste putting all of this back. He makes a point to punctuate every tap on the screen to void the current transaction while Xiangling counts the packs into a paper bag. 

Venti empties the confines of his wallet to add up to… the exact amount for twenty-nine pieces.

“Uh…”

“Just take it ,” Xiao hisses.

Venti gives them one last cheeky grin before lightly skipping away.

He turns to Xiangling to ask how she’s faring with her shift, but is caught off guard by the sweeping motions of her arm across the counter, piling the leftover stacks onto her apron with lightning speed like they were dumplings on fire.

Xiao gapes. "What are you doing? "

"I saw your face," Xiangling squeaks. "Practically spelled ‘Oh, Brother! Now I Have To Put Them All Back!’ Well, I’m one step ahead of you!”

"That's not--"

"I've got it, really! No biggie!" Xiangling says, already lifting the counter barrier and darting down one of the aisles.

Xiao blinks at the spot she’d practically evaporated from to find a stray yellow pack left behind. He reaches for it. "Hang on, you forgot one--" 

Xiangling's already ducked into the supplies aisle, a pack or two falling comically behind her. 

Xiao shakes his head, taking a quiet moment to himself before turning slightly to check the books section of the store.

She's gone. Of course. And, as usual, the book is returned to its slot on the third level of aisle three. Every Monday at five o'clock it was just like this.

He always wondered why she didn’t just buy the book; why she kept coming back.

So many questions.

He purses his lips, thumb brushing against the pack of sticky notes in his hand. He could still ask, just…

He grabs for the nearest marker, pulling its cover open with a pop .

Fast scribbles. Before his thoughts could fade away.

ii.

When she opens the book the following Monday, Xiao turns, too abruptly, he thinks, and tries to busy himself on his phone, mindlessly scrolling. Painting apathy. Nonchalance. Which was easy. He wore that like a second skin, emanating the very word like he’d come up with it himself.

He hears the rustle of pages, a quiet hum... and then, a gasp.

Like a goddamn coward he buckles along with his knees and ducks down quickly, hitting the back of his head against the counter. Thank the archons Xiangling wasn’t on duty today because he’d have no way of explaining this to her.

He rubs the back of his head, exasperated, because now he had absolutely no vantage point of her reaction to seeing his stupid sticky note with his stupid handwriting and his stupid question ! He squeezes the bridge of his nose, annoyed at himself for going with his gut, for acting on impulse, but most of all, that he had all week to march right back up to the book, tear the sticky note from its pages and chuck it into the trash. 

On the other hand, he was being ridiculous . They didn’t even know each other and she’d never be able to tell it was him–

“Xiao?”

He jumps, like a sudden gust of wind had surged him upward, jolting at the way the sound of his name rounded out and tugged – like a magnet, a lifeline, drawing him to face a pair of wide, golden eyes that no doubt mirrored his own.

“Oh!” the blonde exclaims, jumping as well at his sudden appearance. “That was – um! Fast! Sorry. I wasn’t sure if anyone was back there, and you appeared so quickly when I called your–”

“How–?” he tries to ask, but gulps down the words, patting his chest lightly to find his metal name tag pinned in place. Right. She’s been here before. “Um, how can I help you?”

“Oh, um,” the blonde mumbles, before raising a pack of pink sticky notes up at him. “I wanted to purchase this.”

She passes him the pack, and he’s careful to skirt around her fingers. It’s a tug of war, the way his brain wants to quickly finish the task at hand, and yet the rest of his body slows, taking his time, fumbling, even, with the change like a fool and sliding it towards her on the counter before she could offer her palm.

“Thank you!” she says with a beaming smile, already turning from him, only to swivel around once more. “Oh! Also, would you maybe have a pen that I could borrow?”

Right. Of course.

Their fingers finally graze, just slightly, when he passes her his pen.

“I’ll return it,” she assures him. “I’ll be back. I promise.”

Xiao doesn’t know why he looks away.

He’s thankful when another customer immediately takes her place to purchase some glue sticks and crayons. He’s thankful when Professor Zhongli arrives and blocks his sight of aisle three to inquire about printing “A puhdf. Yes, I believe that is how it is pronounced. Oh. Pee-Dee-Ef?” And he’s especially thankful when a customer spills their drink near the university merch at the back so he can duck into the storage room to grab a mop and stare idly at his fingers and wonder why they wouldn’t stop burning like they’d been scorched by the sun, why his heart hammered on like a thousand drums, and why his name had sounded so weightless against her lips, carrying absolutely no burdens – only fulfillments, like promises vowed and kept.

When he gets back, his pen sits idly on the counter.

Such a simple image. A mere task brought to completion.

But there’s a comfort that blooms from within his chest at having it returned – a trust that perhaps, she had taken the time to answer, and Xiao finds that all hesitation leaves his frame, and it is with a sudden ease that he picks up his pen and saunters towards aisle three and pulls the novel from it’s usual spot, a strange buzzing in his fingers at the thought of having one less thing to wonder about.

In his hurried scribbles, he had asked, “Why do you like this book?”

A pink sticky note is pasted beneath it, a pretty script replying, “I love when the dihua flute plays in the night.”

Well. That… was not helpful at all.

Because that was his favorite part, too.

Xiao purses his lips. He realizes he never expected a response. As was the case, he guessed, of never bothering to reach out in the first place. For anything. But now that he had one, it surprised him that it only left him with more questions. Like, why would the flute only sound at night? Or, what did she think when Bosacius chose to leave it all behind? Or, did the Golden-Winged King deserve to be the only one to come out of the calamity alive?

So many more questions.

And so far, she was the only one with answers.

He pulls his pack from his apron’s pocket, and jots another one down.

iii. 

It goes on for a whole month.

She drops by the store every other day this time around. Practically launches herself down aisle three, wearing a look of relief on her face every time she spots the book still in its rightful place.

He wears the same expression whenever he opens up the shop on Mondays.

The first two weeks were all about the novel – lore of the world in which it took place, the relationships of the characters and what they meant thematically. But it slowly began to push past questions from a literature class and delve into more personal points. Like, did she have other extra curricular activities after class? Or, did she know the school rooftop overlooked a small lake that somewhat resembled the one in the tale? And, well, yeah, he was definitely a student too, and so, maybe one day after school…maybe, just maybe, he could meet her there.

And then, finally, he’d asked for her name.

From his peripheral vision, he can see she’s jotting down her response. 

“Oh, Lumine!”

Ah. Well. He thinks it's apt. And it rings familiar. Like a name he’d uttered a thousand times before.

Venti’s voice echoes loudly down aisle three. “I turn around to chat in class but you’re gone the second the bell rings. What brings you here?”

“Material hunting,” Lumine offers, though it sounds more like a question. “I’m just as swamped as you are with the project, Mr. Sticky Notes. Back for more?”

“Actually I kind of abandoned that idea. Who knew sticky notes could be that expensive?” Venti snickers, shrug evident in his tone.

“Who knew anyone needed a hundred packs of them?” Lumine deadpans.

“O, woe is me! To be judged for the things I do in the pursuit of artistic ingenuity,” Venti sighs dramatically, a raised hand to his forehead in mock misery. “A shame that an artist’s freedom of expression is defined solely by the confines of his wallet.”

“And where it ends up,” Lumine notes. “Right into Diluc’s pockets.”

Xiao actually snorts.

Venti pouts, clever tongue no doubt ready to retort – but instead there’s a hitched breath. A beat. And then: “Hang on… is that The Guardian Adepti?”

Xiao turns immediately to find Lumine snapping the book closed. “Um! Yeah. Wait. You know about it?”

“Yes, I happen to know my literature, thank you very much. It’s just that I lost my copy a few years back. Had to buy it for history class ,” Venti stresses in a tone of dread, like it had been an absolute bore – until he blinks, wide eyes matching his wide smile as he points at the novel in her hand. “Wait a minute! This is perfect! I could use the pages for my project instead!”

“What ?” Lumine gapes, immediately clutching the book to her chest.

Venti tilts his head. “Oh, sorry, is that your copy?”

“Uhm, no, it’s not, but–!”

Venti is fast, leaning in to promptly snatch the book from her hands. He gives her a light wink, already sauntering to the cashier as Lumine sputters incoherently, attempting to string excuses together within the short distance to the cashier.

“I’m not desecrating the book, Lumi, I’m giving it new life,” Venti calls out behind him, already placing the book on the counter. “Plus this is guaranteed to finally get me an A–”

“Not for sale,” Xiao announces.

“What? ” Venti exclaims. 

Xiao picks up the book, turning it over in his hand. “And even if it was, it’s not like you could afford it.”

“Now that… is probably true, but come on , Xiao,” Venti whines, signature pout already in place. “A little discount wouldn’t hurt? I’m a regular here, aren’t I?”

“This is the university supply store,” Xiao mutters, straight-faced, shifting the book in his hand to hold it behind him. “You must’ve mistaken it for Angel’s Share–”

“I am slightly concerned by the amount of retorts you’ve all somehow pocketed of my escapades,” Venti drones, before sucking a breath and trying again. “Is there at least another copy?”

“This is the last one.”

“But–you–you didn’t even check the back!”

“All copies have been bought and paid for.”

Venti raises an eyebrow. “Including the copy behind you?”

Xiao straightens his stance. “Yes.”

“Oh really ? By who ?”

In a flash, Xiao scans the book, the beep barely sounding before he’s already punched in to confirm the payment and print the receipt. Venti’s jaw hangs open wordlessly as Xiao makes a whole show of pulling out his wallet and lightly tossing a few bills into the cashier.

Xiao shrugs. “Need it for an art project.”

Venti stammers, pulls back, opens his mouth to try to say something, then simply raises his hands in defeat, turning to stomp away, muttering quietly to himself about art theft and integrity.

It’s only when the chimes at the entrance stop ringing that Xiao finally pulls the book from behind him and dares to meet her eyes.

She’s only a few feet away, a hand on her chest, frozen in the motion of taking a step forward. Her lips are parted slightly, eyeing him expectantly. Waiting, probably, for some kind of confirmation. For an answer.

She had given him so many. Perhaps it was finally his turn.

Xiao sets the book lightly on the counter. He turns it open and casually flips through the pages, willing his movements to follow his brain and not the hummingbird wings of his beating heart, until he arrives at their most recent notes to each other, finding her scribble: “You first.”

Xiao scoffs. He begins the familiar routine of tugging his pack from his pockets and twisting the cap of his pen. He quickly jots down his name and lightly presses the note just below her request. He pushes the book back towards her in one swift motion and crosses his arms, finally sucking in a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. 

A long beat of silence.

So. What would be her answer this time?

“I had a feeling it might be you.”

It’s the last thing he expects, of course. It always is. And the wind is knocked right out of him. The entire floor disappearing beneath his feet. And the only thing keeping him upright and standing is the burning desire to ask her why ?–questions, again, always more questions–and he takes a step to steady himself, hip bumping onto the counter slightly that he fumbles, and the pen in his hand topples, rolling past the counter and clinking onto the other side.

Her side.

“I’ve got it!” she calls. And when she takes those first few steps his way he realizes that while she’s never usually this close, everything about her is familiar . Her lithe motions, the light dust of pink on her cheeks, the curve of her jaw, and even the soft brush of her fingertips as she returns his pen, once again, with ease .

“I’m sorry,” she chuckles nervously. “I just meant… it makes sense. You know? Because you’re at the shop all the time.'”

Right. Of course. “And you?”

She tilts her head, the pink on her cheeks now a blossoming red. “Me?”

“Why are you at the shop all the time?” he finally gets to ask.

Lumine–that was her name–takes a moment to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear before answering. “At first it was just to read my favorite passages. My last class is just on the floor above. I always thought… it was a nice way to end the day. I certainly never expected anyone to notice, much less leave such a surprising note.”

Xiao looks away. “I’m sorry. If it was rude.”

“No, not at all,” Lumine murmurs. Her hand glides a few inches over the book on the counter. “Thank you. For asking.”

She extends her hand out and continues, “My name is Lumine.”

Xiao nods. “I heard.”

He doesn’t take her hand. Instead, he picks up the book and presses it into her palm, letting go before she can force him to take it back. “Keep it. Quickly. Before Venti comes running.”

Lumine purses her lips, though mostly in an effort to keep herself from laughing. “I’d feel better if I paid you back–”

“Think of it as a gift,” Xiao murmurs. “For all the answers.”

Lumine studies the book in her hand. “Did you… have any more questions?”

He did. A lot. More and more with each of her answers. But it seemed their little back-and-forth had finally come to an end, as all things eventually do. He realizes, suddenly, that he’d had… fun. He’d had something to look forward to. And he wasn’t entirely sure he’d feel the same way if it had been anyone else but her. 

“I could keep answering,” Lumine offers with a small smile. “If you don’t mind.”

He blinks at her, wondering why his stupid brain couldn’t process what she was trying to say. She actually wanted to… continue?

“Or maybe this time around, I could ask you some questions.”

Xiao thinks it’s only fair. “About the novel?”

“About you,” Lumine says, so simply that it catches him off guard, and Xiao has to grip the counter to keep from reeling. “To get to know you better.”

Lumine takes out her set of pink notes, the numbers dwindling from their month-long exchange, and pushes it in his direction. “We could also make it just a tad bit easier. Can I have your number?”

She’s being smart, he thinks, as he struggles with the cap of his pen. Had she given him her number, he’s not sure he would’ve had the courage to even call.

When he’s done, she tucks the note into the pages of the book. “My class ends at four o’clock tomorrow. Would you like to meet at the rooftop?”

Xiao nods. A little too quickly. “Just call.”

“I will,” Lumine concludes, offering a final wave as she takes a few steps away, the emerald book held close to her heart. “Thank you, Xiao.”

And even when the chimes of the shop finally settle, he swears he can still hear her lips uttering his name.

epilogue.

"Xiao."

It's soft. Untroubled. Like she'd whispered his name simply in passing, and his heart flutters easily at being but a mere passing thought. After all, there was already so much on her mind. To have appeared, even briefly, was an honor he could only hope for.

"Xiao."

A little louder now. In earnest. And it’s clear she’s requesting for his presence.

He allows the darkness to consume him briefly, wading in its inky shadows as they fold around his frame. Her presence is too easy to pinpoint, a beacon in the night, like the final light of the setting sun on the horizon. He follows it eagerly, emerging atop Wangshu Inn to a table set for two, a single wooden lantern lit at its center, and no flying companion in sight.

Only Lumine, her dress like the petals of a Qingxin in full bloom, the setting sun painting her golden, lips curved upward as she leans against the table.

“What is this?” he asks bluntly.

“A small… celebration of sorts,” Lumine murmurs, fingers skidding the edges of the table. “Would you join me?”

“What kind of celebration?”

Lumine gives him a look, skirting around the table to lightly plop herself onto her seat. He now spots two plates of almond tofu across from each other. “If you sit down, maybe I’ll tell you.”

Xiao crosses his arms. “Bribing me now, are you?”

Lumine rolls her eyes, opening her small traveling bag to rummage through it. “Given that you haven’t left yet, something tells me I don’t have to.”

She was right, of course. He just… wasn’t willing to give in so quickly to her wishes. Afraid, perhaps, that she’d grow far too accustomed to it; and that a day would arrive where he would finally have to say no.

He’s about to voice out that he wouldn’t be able to stay very long when she pulls out a familiar emerald novel from her bag.

In a flash he’s on his seat, snatching the book from her hands to study it closely. And he spots it easily enough–the small A on the lower right-hand corner of the cover. It was the very copy he’d been searching for all these years.

“Where did you find it?” he asks quickly.

“Wanwen Bookhouse,” Lumine breathes, still reeling from how quickly he had appeared, no doubt. “You were right. It was in Liyue Harbor.”

That would explain why he’d eventually lost track of it. He was careful to never tread past the harbor. To stay away from mortals as much as possible. “Have you read it?”

Lumine shakes her head. “You told me not to.”

Xiao nods, grateful that she’d listened. And kept her promise. “Then… thank you.”

“This doesn’t come freely,” Lumine warns with a glint in her eye. “I take my commission rewards very seriously.”

Xiao slants his eyes at her. “I have no mora to offer you.”

“So quick to assume,” Lumine sighs. “Paimon speaks only for herself.”

Xiao remains hesitant, but continues, “Then what is it you want?”

Lumine’s smile doesn’t waver. “You have to tell me what it’s about.”

“I care not for its contents,” Xiao murmurs. “It is merely… sentimental.”

“You cared enough to make sure I didn’t read it.”

Xiao sighs. She was always so stubborn . “It’s nothing you don’t already know about the adepti.”

“Then why ?” Lumine questions. “What makes it so special that you asked me to get it back?”

“One day,” Xiao sighs, leaning back onto his chair. “I’ll tell you one day. Not tonight. When you find the time, just call my–”

“There won’t be another time,” Lumine’s murmurs. He realizes, too late perhaps, that her smile had not once reached her eyes. “I’m leaving for Inazuma.”

Xiao doesn’t catch himself in time. Freezes instantly at the revelation. She has a good eye – he knows she’s caught his surprise. A tiny flicker of emotion, but he feels too seen. Too revealed. Always vulnerable around her. “When?”

“Tomorrow,” she whispers, eyes downcast.

He already knew this. Knew that her journey to find her brother would lead her beyond Liyue. To nations he would never set a single foot on. Far from his sight. He’d long since accepted this eventual, but necessary, parting.

But he never expected it to come with the weight of such a crushing defeat. Like a long, tireless battle lost. And a sting behind his eyes.

“And so,” Lumine stresses, trying her best to slice through the tension, to wave away this dark cloud that had settled by her revelation. “Since I don’t know when I’ll see you again, I figured the least you could do was tell me–”

“No.”

It’s her turn to wear surprise, pulling back slightly at his rejection. “Oh.”

Xiao reaches for her hand on the table, gently turning it over in his own palm. He takes the book with his other hand and places it on her palm until she curls her fingers in a semblance of an acceptance. “Keep it.”

Lumine remains frozen, like he’d just handed her a precious, fragile ornament. “I don’t understand.”

“This copy…” he begins, urging himself to continue, wondering why he was struggling so hard to find the words when he had faced far more grueling battles. “I’ve written in it. Thoughts. Things… I think I remember. Of my comrades and of our past. I felt it was important. To recall what we had done, no matter how… terrible.” 

The Sumeru scholar who had written it, while bound to the truth, had spoken… inexactly. Xiao’s little notes and musings were an attempt to piece it all together. To try to make sense of his actions. To see himself beyond the weight of his karmic debt – not to atone for his sins, but in an attempt to find even but a semblance of good in what he had done. That he was capable of doing good. That he didn’t taint everything he touched.

So that the next time she called, he would no longer hesitate to answer.

“You may read it on your journey,” Xiao murmurs, finally, reluctantly , pulling his hand away. “But as I said, you will learn nothing else from it.”

“That’s not true,” Lumine says gently, pulling his hand back towards her. “I’ll learn more about you.”

She was right, of course. As always. He’d always been so hesitant to share. Knew she’d learned all about the adepti from everyone but himself. And now their time was up. Lost. And all because he’d been too scared to ask, and even more terrified to answer.

But perhaps that was his intention in lending the novel to her. That it could make up for all the things he could never say. Until the day she found her way back to him.

He tries to explain. “When you find yourself in Liyue again–”

“I’ll return it,” Lumine whispers, clutching it tightly to her chest. 

“I do not care about the book,” Xiao breathes, almost inaudible. “Just…” You. You come back.

He doesn’t have to say anything after all. She reads his mind, anyway. “I’ll be back. I promise.”

A small breeze starts to blow past, and Xiao grips onto her fingers tightly, afraid she would suddenly fade into the wind. “Just call.”

“I will,” Lumine assures him, and he trusts her completely. “Thank you, Xiao.”

As the wind picks up at the highest point of Wangshu Inn, a dihua flute sounds in the night.