Chapter Text
Xiao blinks with some confusion this morning, waking in Zhongli-daren’s quarters with his lord himself nowhere in sight. The sun streams in a gentle wash past the silk-spun curtains, and the breeze of Zhongli-daren’s domain always carries the scent of qingxin. Xiao is comfortable here, enveloped with the presence of his beloved lord that permeates every corner of this space.
But where is Zhongli-daren?
He usually stays, wrapped around Xiao’s form until he wakes, warm around Xiao’s pleasantly exhausted limbs. His lord often enjoys tiring him out until he stops protesting his lack of need for sleep, and last night was another one of these persuasive sessions.
“Zhongli-daren?” he calls softly, reaches out with his awareness and settles again once he locates his lord. In the room one over, it seems. How strange. Xiao rises from bed and wraps a light robe around his shoulders as he pads out their bedroom, settling the back of his hair into place as he steps into the main room—and freezes.
It is not Zhongli-daren standing at the patio that overlooks the pond and garden, but instead a young man. A slender figure, lithely built under a simple tunic, framed with wisps of long gold-brown locks trailing by his neck stands by the airy entrance. He turns, slightly, at the small noise Xiao made in his throat, and then it is clear.
Oh, his smile is the same, Xiao thinks.
“Hello, I seem to have lost my way,” the young man says, voice lilting and sweet, surprising enough that it makes Xiao hesitate. Atop the man’s head juts out a familiar pair of glowing ridges, and behind him flutters a golden, plume-like tail; his eyes are cor lapis unmarred by the weariness of age, but a careful caution casts over his pleasant smile. “Would you be so kind as to lend me some guidance?”
A liquid tenderness seeps through Xiao. Etched in his bones is the urge to bow at his lord’s feet, but he fights it off for now. Zhongli-daren is in need of him—perhaps not the Zhongli-daren who knows him, but Xiao has sworn fealty to the essence of his god. It does not matter if he does not recognise him at that moment.
“I will be glad to,” Xiao answers. He finds himself rooted in place, yearning to go closer but dares not startle the young Archon-to-be.
“Thank you,” Zhongli-daren says. He turns around fully and his fingers twist around the fabric of his tunic, then release again. “My name is Zhongli, what is yours?”
A brief twinge thrums through Xiao at the question, at the thought that his lord no longer remembers the name he had given Xiao. But Zhongli’s hands find purchase in the fabric together again, twitches in visible nervousness that is so rare to see, and he finds a tide of protectiveness surge within him instead, washing over any hesitation he might have had.
“Pleased to make your acquaintance, Zhongli. My name is Xiao.”
Zhongli mouths the word in curious wonder, then smiles, and the sight of it unroots Xiao from his spot; he drifts closer, allows himself near the one he swore fealty to, and bends in a gentle kneel over one knee.
“I am fully at your disposal,” he murmurs, and finds his chest warm when Zhongli lets out a soft chuckle and ruffles his hair with gentle fingers, just like his lord would, and beckons him to rise.
*
From his appearance he appears to be no older than Xiao. They are of almost the same height, and when Xiao questions what period of time Zhongli recalls last, he names a year that puts him at around three thousand of age, just before the Archon War. He says the last thing he remembers is going for a long walk around a forest of purple leaves atop his head, falling asleep under a tree beneath a dewy autumn sky, and when he woke up again he was in this domain, the scent of qingxi drawing him to the garden where Xiao found him.
Purple leaves, Xiao muses. His memory has never been as good as his lord’s, but it jostles something, a shard of a memory, maybe. He will pursue answers, but first things first…
“I am fine in this outfit,” Zhongli insists, as Xiao digs in the closet of the domain only to find clothes that fit the broader, taller figure of his lord. He can probably wear Xiao’s clothing, but he dares not make such a debasing offer; his own clothes would surely be tainted with remnants of his karmic debt.
“Really, Xiao,” Zhongli repeats, amusement lighting his voice. “I do not see why I can not wear this tunic. It is comfortable and easy to move in.”
Xiao glances at the plain tunic Zhongli wears with hesitation. Sure, it is serviceable in that it completes the task that clothing should, but that is all it is successful in doing. His lord deserves only the finest of silks imbued with adeptal energy.
“No, Zhongli, I will find you some clothes that are more…” he pauses, and hesitates to reveal too much. He does not know if this younger version of his lord is truly from the past or a type of spell that causes age regression; he intends to consult Cloud Retainer for help as soon as he can, after ensuring Zhongli is in attire befitting the dignity he is due…
“How about I wear this then.” Zhongli lifts the fabric for Xiao to see. It is one of Xiao’s off-duty garments, the one Zhongli-daren himself had gifted Xiao. White silk accented with black and gold, stitched with similar swirling patterns as his current gear but spun with softer, thinner silks that glide smoothly over the skin. It is one of Xiao’s most treasured gifts, and he would gladly give it to Zhongli if not for the concern of karma…
“Does it sting you?” He worries his lip. “Does it…exude any unpleasant auras?”
Zhongli offers Xiao a quizzical smile. “No, it feels fine.”
“Very well,” Xiao relents. He shows Zhongli to the bathroom where he can change in privacy.
With the door closed behind him, Xiao lets out a long breath. He feels unmoored, out of his depth entirely. He has not had to take care of anything, anyone for long millennia. He knows how to serve, knows how to protect, to sacrifice, to fight. He does not know how to take care of someone, much less his lord. He is not sure he is up to the task.
But when Zhongli opens the door and greets him, gives a graceful twirl in the flowing robe that bears the colours of Liyue, a sash of adamant black tied around his waist to cinch in the extra fabric, accentuating his lithe figure—something eases in Xiao’s heart.
“How do I look?” Zhongli asks, a tentative note to his voice and a dusty glow lighting his cheeks. His plume-like tail beneath the fabric twitches slightly at his feet, then curls around one of his bare ankles.
“Wonderful,” Xiao answers, helplessly endeared.
*
“Xiao, you’re an adeptus, right?” Zhongli asks as they exit the domain and into the rolling hills of Qiongji Estuary. The young Morax follows him, one step behind and to his right side. Xiao has to fight the urge to fall in step behind him, to allow his lord to lead.
“Yes,” he answers.
Zhongli laughs. “I see you are a man of many words.”
Xiao flushes, and almost trips over a rock in his haste to apologise. “I-I’m sorry—what more would you like me to…”
His lord pats his shoulder. “I am only joking. No need to be so nervous, I do not bite,” he flashes Xiao a toothy grin as if to be contrary, a white fang poking out between his lips.
Xiao does not reply. He had a haunch that is now more certain—this is Zhongli before the Archon War; before he won the war. He is different in a way that puts Xiao off balance, his tongue at a loss for words; he does not know how to interact with his lord who has yet known Xiao to be his.
“Zhongli,” he begins, still hesitating over the lack of honourific. “Let me know if you have any concerns, everything must be quite foreign to you...”
Zhongli hums, he stops by a thicket of blooming flowers and sniffs gently. “No, I feel fine.”
“I see.” His lord truly is courageous, Xiao thinks.
“—You are here, after all.”
“—eh? Pardon?”
Zhongli darts close, and Xiao freezes in place as his lord reaches a hand toward his head slowly, carefully, and tucks the blossoms of a silk flower in Xiao’s hair.
“Haha, it looks good on you,” Zhongli says with a smile.
Xiao’s breath is caught in his throat, his heart races within his ribcage. “I—thank you,” he stammers, then asks, a little forlorn, “Are you certain you do not know who I am?”
Zhongli’s amber eyes seem to twinkle in the noon light. “I can tell you are kind. And you care about me.”
Xiao’s gaze lowers to the leaf-covered ground. “The latter is true.”
“That is enough for me.”
Xiao touches a tentative hand to the flower in his hair. He raises his gaze again to meet Zhongli’s waiting one. He is entirely different yet the same; Xiao had not known his lord had tucked this sweet and mischievous side of him away.
“You are right, I will make sure you are safe,” Xiao promises. “I will bring you to Cloud Retainer, she will know what to do, surely.”
The serene expression on Zhongli’s face falls away, and an almost comic wide-eyed look of displeasure takes its place.
“No,” he says, despairingly. “Not Cloud Retainer…”
*
“She will be able to help us,” Xiao insists, traversing across the Dihua Marsh toward Jueyun Karst.
“Can we ask someone else?” Zhongli suggests.
Xiao supposes Madame Ping is another option, but that would mean bringing Zhongli into the Harbour, increasing the risk of disrupting the flow of time.
“No, I’m sorry,” Xiao says, and to his surprise, Zhongli pouts.
“Fine.”
Xiao speeds up his gait, keeps his expression even as he struggles to stifle a laugh.
Does he dare even think it?
(His lord is…cute.)
*
When they arrive at Mt. Aozang, they are greeted by Cloud Retainer’s squawk of surprised laughter.
“Oh my,” she chortles, “Is this not a sight for sore eyes? You appear not a single day over three thousand, young Morax.”
“I found him like this earlier this morning,” Xiao explains. “We seek your help in search of answers to his…condition.”
Cloud Retainer comes closer and examines Zhongli. “Hmm, oh but this brings back old memories. One still remembers the days when you would play those silly pranks on unsuspecting mortals…”
“Please, Cloud Retainer…”
“...and remember how upset you were when they performed an exorcism thinking you were a demon?” She chuckles. “Those were such carefree days.”
Xiao remains silent and carefully does not make any comments. He knows of his lord’s tendencies to go incognito during his reign as Rex Lapis to teach lessons of virtue, but he did not know the precursor to those tendencies had such—interesting origins.
And is it just Xiao’s imagination or is Zhongli inching behind Xiao as Cloud Retainer speaks?
“Please,” Zhongli begs, “Just help us, Cloud Retainer.”
Taking sympathy, Xiao adds, “I will owe you any favour of your choosing.”
“Any favour, you say?” Cloud Retainer’s eye glints with mirth. “Speak carefully, Conqueror of Demons, or perhaps you may regret your offer…”
“I will not,” Xiao says firmly. “I am willing to do anything to ensure my—” he clears his throat. “To ensure Zhongli is returned to his time safe and sound.”
Cloud Retainer makes an amused noise. “You have a deal,” she says, extending a wing and drawing a sigil in the air in the familiar procedure of drawing a contract.
As Xiao lifts his arm to do the same, a tug at his sleeve draws his attention away.
“Are you sure…?” Zhongli asks. “You know you do not have to go to such lengths for me.”
Xiao is warmed by his concern. But a pang of longing follows soon after; his lord would know Xiao is willing to go much further than this for him. His lord would not hesitate to use him the way he craves to be used, not anymore.
“Cute,” Cloud Retainer clucks, directing both their attention back to her, startled. She lets out a huffed breath and says, “Well, one shall explain. One has seen this condition before. Uncommon, for certain, but not unheard of.”
“Really?”
“It is a phenomenon from a type of tree…”
“Tianjie,” Zhongli says.
Cloud Retainer tilts her head. “Correct. One sees you have heard of it.”
“What is it?” Xiao asks, “Is this the…”
Zhongli’s lips curl up with a faint smile. “Yes, the purple leaves, like stars above my head. That is the last thing I remember before I woke up here.”
“Yes, it is most unusual since there are no more Tianjie trees left in Liyue,” Cloud Retainer explains. “They were farmed for their powers and went extinct. Only sanctioned museums still preserve samples of the species.”
“Is there a cure?” Xiao asks urgently. “How can we send him back to his rightful time?”
“You can not,” Cloud Retainer says primly. Xiao bristles. “But,” she continues, “You’re mistaken, young yaksha, this is not a case of time travelling. Tell me, did your lord make some new fanciful purchases recently?”
“What? No.” Xiao’s brows furrow. “I mean…maybe. Does it matter?”
“The phenomenon has specifications for it to take effect,” Cloud Retainer explains, smoothing a few already perfectly pristine feathers down. “He must have been exposed to some Tianjie blooms, or a powder of some sort, maybe? One recalls herbal tinctures disguised as medicine being a popular product.”
“...” Xiao’s thoughts flash back to Zhongli-daren and his outing to the antique market in the harbour yesterday. He had returned with numerous bags of various…items. How careless Xiao was; he should have screened every item first for any lingering curses or powers. He makes a note to request Zhongli-daren test every product on Xiao first before purchasing, next time.
“Do not be so concerned.” A hand on his arm lurches him back. Zhongli’s youthful face peers at him. He smiles so freely, Xiao thinks, a touch startled. “It must have been my own carelessness that landed me in such a predicament.”
“N-no,” Xiao stammers, but Cloud Retainer interrupts him. “—Oh good, you are perceptive. But indeed there is no need to worry. This is not a problem of displacement, but rather regression. And thankfully,” she sniffs, “it is temporary.”
Tension loosens from Xiao’s shoulders. “I see.”
“How long does it last?” Zhongli asks.
“Around one to two days, if one remembers correctly.” Cloud Retainer tuts disapprovingly. “In the meantime, it is for the best you keep young Morax hidden, Conqueror of Demons. His memory is regressed as well in his current condition. It is best not to interact with too many in case of endangering both him and his reputation.”
"Understood.”
Zhongli huffs. “What is that supposed to mean?”
Cloud Retainer chuckles and ignores his question. “Be well, the two of you. I will check in on you in two days, in case your condition does not resolve itself.”
And with that, she bids them goodbye and takes her leave.
Zhongli mutters a few irritated words under his breath as he follows Xiao down the mountain path. Xiao touches his arm in mimicry of the way Zhongli touched him in offer of comfort, and Zhongli pauses in his rant and glances at Xiao, face softening. He treks closer to Xiao the rest of the way down.
*
“This domain is very exquisite,” Zhongli comments as they pass the dimensional gate, an eternal spring breeze greets his long locks. A few plum blossoms float by, tender pink petals that settle gently atop his hair, bringing out the healthy colour to his cheeks. His gaze is thoughtful as he gazes at the abode with something Xiao can not quite discern. “Is it yours?”
“It is yours. It is modelled after many of the finer architecture in Liyue Harbour.”
Zhongli gives him another opaque look. “I see.”
Xiao makes a small noise of inquiry.
“Nothing… I am merely…” Zhongli appears lost in thought. “Your time is wonderfully prosperous, is it not? It is…gratifying to learn that so many will be able to enjoy the finer things that life has to offer.”
The budding hints of who Zhongli will become are already showing through, Xiao thinks. His love for this world is so vast, so selfless. Xiao yearns to tell him the truth, that he gave them this privilege, like he did so for Xiao millennia ago, and gifted them with the sanctuary and strength to nurture the land they love so much.
But before he can start to organise his thoughts in a way that would not overwhelm him, Zhongli asks, “Xiao, are you hungry?”
“No,” Xiao answers reflexively. “...But I do not mind eating.”
Zhongli gives him an amused look. “Sure, let us have lunch then.” And the thread of that thought slips away to be replaced with culinary recipes in Xiao’s mind.
*
Xiao insists on cooking on principle. He is not great at it. He will even admit he is pretty awful at it, all things considered. But he knows how to make Zhongli’s favourite dish at least; he had spent long hours and many ruined pans practising until it was to Zhongli-daren’s taste.
The man in question is currently standing beside him, arms crossed, hip leaning against the counter, a smile playing across his lips.
Xiao glances at him as he stirs the stew. “What is it?”
Zhongli comes closer, until their shoulders are almost touching. “You are very interesting.”
“What do you mean?” Xiao struggles to keep his voice even.
Zhongli hums. “You do not speak much, but your actions speak louder than words, anyway.”
Xiao stares at the bamboo shoots and meats simmering in the golden soup. His face feels hot from the steam. “And what do my actions say?”
A point of warmth as Zhongli leans his arm against his. “That you know me on an…intimate level,” he whispers in Xiao’s ear.
Xiao does not respond. His ear feels like Zhongli has burned him with his words. He sets the ladle down and keeps his trembling hands by his sides.
“I—I am sorry—”
“Whatever for?” Zhongli asks teasingly.
“For my—imprudence,” Xiao bites his lip. “I did not mean to convey any untoward intentions—”
Zhongli laughs; it is a bright, beautiful sound. He sounds genuinely happy, and Xiao’s chest warms despite himself.
“We are in a relationship, correct?” When Xiao stammers to answer, he continues smoothly, “it was obvious, really. I woke up in our—and it is our bed, is it not? To your lovely sleeping face.”
Zhongli peers at him from beneath dark lashes, amber eyes glowing faintly.
“Despite my lack of memories, it did not take long to figure out I was not kidnapped here against my will, but rather the opposite. You must miss him very much, hmm? I can read it in your expressions.”
Xiao gazes at him, overwhelmed. He considers denying it even though there is no reason to: it is still the same Zhongli-daren who is…teasing him, but he feels oddly embarrassed all the same. Perhaps in some ways, this younger version of him is much like a stranger despite the familiarity, and he has never had his feelings examined under scrutiny like this. His lord has always known Xiao thoroughly, and Xiao has never sought to hide anything from him either.
“I do,” Xiao says, eventually. “But that is only my selfish desire. You do not need to worry, I will serve you in whatever capacity you desire in the meantime.”
“Serve me?” Zhongli sounds startled. “I was wondering about that... See, the reason why it took me so long to figure it out is that I was uncertain if your devotion to me was from duty or a more intimate inclination…” He casts his gaze downward, as if troubled. “I can not for the life of me understand why I would have treated you as a servant if we were partners.”
At that, Xiao’s breath catches, and he reaches out but hesitates at the last moment. “No, do not worry. It is…” He turns away, cheeks heating. “It is my own aberration.”
“What do you mean?”
Xiao closes the lid on the pot and goes over to the sink. Buying himself some time, he starts washing the dishes as he contemplates how best to explain. If he should even explain.
Behind him comes the sound of clinking ceramics as Zhongli tends to the brewing tea. After a moment Xiao gathers his courage and turns around.
“I do not mean to obfuscate,” Xiao apologises, but Zhongli is waving him off with a smile.
“You do not need to explain if you are uncomfortable.”
That makes Xiao feel even more guilty. He wonders how to adequately put into words how they came into their dynamic. He wonders how to phrase it in a way that will not alarm Zhongli. He comes up empty-handed.
“We are…” Xiao tries again, gathering words that seem to scatter away on his tongue.
“Just answer one question for me, Xiao,” Zhongli hands Xiao a cup of tea and takes a sip of his own. “...Are you happy?”
“Of course,” Xiao answers immediately.
Zhongli’s smile fades slightly. He looks tentative, young in a way that makes Xiao’s chest ache. He still remembers the last time he saw such uncertainty on his lord’s face.
“I mean it,” Xiao closes their distance and twines his hand around Zhongli’s. He squeezes the slender digits between his own, draws them to his chest, presses them to the beat that races ever so slightly faster whenever he is in Zhongli’s presence, and says softly, “In this current world, you are my Archon, my god, and I am thankful to be by your side every day.” Zhongli’s eyes are wide, and Xiao hopes the truth will set his heart at ease but it becomes clear it was not what Zhongli wanted to hear; his brows draw together and he lowers his eyes, shadows from his fringe casting over his pale face. Xiao fights his own reservation and continues, urgently, “It is an honour to serve you. Please be reassured that I am bound to you only by my own will,” he pauses, cheeks hot. “—and of course my great affection for you, my lord.”
Zhongli’s eyes snap to his. Surprise colours his features and his lips part. “O-oh.”
A strangely tender feeling emerges within Xiao again, as it has done often around this younger version of his lord. So expressive, so easily flustered, he is…again, the word cute comes to mind, but it would be imprudent to think of his lord as such…
“What in the world did I ever do to deserve such devotion from someone as lovely as you…?” Zhongli mumbles, tail swishing around his feet again. And it is that small tell of worry and those soft words that echo what his lord had asked him when they still stood on uncertain grounds that drives him forward, cups a hand around the curve of Zhongli’s cheek and—for the first time Xiao does not have to stand on his toes to reach him—presses a gentle kiss to those parted lips.