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The first time Xingqiu met Chongyun, he’d been five years old; soaked head-to-toe as a result of an unexpected downpour in the early afternoon, the palms of his hands scraped red and his knees bruised black and blue, and crying pitifully for his older brother to come and help him.
(It’s immediately embarrassing to recall. Xingqiu can’t help but let out a small huff at his past self’s behaviour, before carrying on writing, quill steady in hand.)
His wooden sword that’d been stained by mud and grass had been left to fester in the puddles that swelled under the relentless rainfall, as he’d wailed under the shade of the chestnut trees that grew a good walk away from his clan’s gated estate. He had stopped crying, only when a small hand was laid on his shoulder, and a tentative sigh left a stranger’s lips. The rain had stopped pelting his head then, from where it had passed through the green leaves above, and when he turned, his eyes met those of a brilliant icy blue. A face, worried, had asked him:
‘Are you alright?’
Xingqiu doesn’t remember what he’d said to Chongyun then. Or if he’d even said anything at all, at first. Only that he’d grabbed desperately at the other’s hands, burying his head in Chongyun’s chest, and that Chongyun had allowed this, only patting him on the back and offering him words of kindness when there was a break in the sobs that erupted past his lips. The depth of understanding, and natural good, that swelled through Chongyun’s spirit, was apparent back then; even as a young child. He didn’t say a word of complaint, to the stranger wetting his clothes and resting on his shoulder, only interlocking their hands on the gentle walk back; and Xingqiu had been kept from the rain by Chongyun’s umbrella that had then shielded the both of them as it still hammered down from the swelling grey clouds above. Unlike the umbrellas his family created in the past, that which were beautifully ornate and detailed and never meant to be actually used, Chongyun’s had been a plain, faded red. Xingqiu had hobbled under it’s protection - his knee, he thinks he remembers injuring it trying to imitate one of his older brother’s moves, and he’d failed, leaving his skin marred like the surface of a rotting peach - so Chongyun had helped him all the way back.
He didn’t let go of him even when they had reached the main entrance; where they’d been swarmed instantly by a crowd of maids and attendants like, all in a frenzy over their Young Master’s sudden disappearance. Even if sometimes the memories of that day are now hazy, enveloped in mist and fog, what remains clear is the scent of sweet rain mingling with the glaze lilies and silk flowers that grew strong and proud within the estate’s many gardens, and Chongyun’s warm hand clutching his own back.
(And what followed afterwards, Xingqiu now muses, could be argued as being wholly inevitable.)
As a reward for his diligence, in bringing back an heir to the Guhua family safe and sound, Chongyun was given personal thanks by his own father; within the airy main hall of the Guhua clan’s residency. It was quickly found out then, that this brave young boy belonged to a proud exorcist clan that usually were reclusive up in the mountain’s fog; though they had branching off family clans that strayed down and lived within the lower holds of Liyue. Chongyun came from one of these families; and it would have been obvious to anyone then, judging him both by his attire and the stern way in which the child carried himself.
He was exceedingly polite, declining all gifts for his deed; only then finally relenting in staying for the promise of food when his father proposed sending out messengers to invite the rest of the exorcist-in-training’s family to share in it as well.
Of course, Xingqiu then had no idea, and was thrilled when he learned the truth of Chongyun’s origin. How exciting, to have a friend, as noble and virtuous as the heroes that lived within the pages of the novels he’d carried with him everywhere he went. A traditional Liyue hero encased in a visage of snow and ice with light hair and eyes, and clothes to match. It was a friend he’d only ever dreamed of having. In the quiet of the private gardens near his own quarters, he had entertained this fantasy; skipping stones over ponds surfaces and reading aloud the very tales he imagined Chongyun had sprouted out from.
Even out in the cold where they watched the rain fall together, kept dry under the safety of the roof of a pavilion, the exorcist-to-be had continued to stay by his side without a hint of reluctance. This was also in spite of Xingqiu’s occasional teasing of Chongyun not knowing the meaning of a few the words that he’d spoken of; the boy only continued to listen attentively to all that Xingqiu had to say. When the rest of Chongyun’s family had arrived, all dressed in similar white robes of simple elegance, with auras of clarity and benevolence, the Guhua clan had jumped at the chance to entertain them. Chongyun led him by hand still as they hurried to join the rest of the guests, and they sat together while they ate.
It had just seemed natural, the way the two had slotted together with ease already, even though they’d only known each other for barely a day. One thing Xingqiu remembers most clearly in this regard, was the way in which his father had looked at him, when Chongyun reached out to wipe the crumbs sticking to his cheeks with not an ounce of hesitation, only pulling away in embarrassment when Xingqiu’s eyes met his own. It appeared, that how well they got on with one another-
The dynamic had not gone unnoticed.
Already, unbeknownst to Xingqiu back then, the cogs were turning in his father’s head; about the possible futures left for his second-son with no inheritance left to his name. An alliance had long been arranged for his older brother even back then; proposed when he was no more than a baby, but not much had been left in consideration for what Xingqiu’s matches would be, when the time came and he was of age. However, an exorcist, one of great stature and a clearly refined constitution even as a young boy, the signs of a prodigy in the making, hand-in-hand with a son mastering his own sword arts - this could perhaps be a pair his father would be willing to permit. One he would be willing to place his bets on.
In those moments, it had only been merely entertained over the joys of expensive wine. It would take a while for the idea to take shape, to solidify into a promise, a piece of writing, mutual trust between two parties. In the early years of his and Chongyun’s friendship, this ordeal was unknown to them, and, well.
The two would find themselves ever drawn to each other all the same.
It was only a few weeks later after this that Xingqiu had then learnt of Chongyun’s intolerance to spicy food. Before lunch Chongyun had admitted as such just as Xingqiu was about to ask their chefs to cook them something to eat, looking to the side in embarrassment as he’d said it.
Of course, being a five year old boy with a tendency to prank on only the most unsuspecting and innocent of victims, Xingqiu was delighted to hear of this news. He remembers still the way he’d sauntered into the kitchens after promising Chongyun the food would all be appropriately bland to accommodate for his palate, before then whispering to his favourite of the cooks to make absolutely sure there were some extra jueyun chilis in his jade parcels this afternoon. He’d figured that not everything would have to be tainted by heat - he allowed Chongyun some reprieve with his cold soba noodles that he knew by then the exorcist-trainee absolutely loved - but apart from that singular dish, it’d been free game in his eyes.
It had been fun to him then, to watch as the pink spread across his new friend’s cheeks; his skin usually the complexion of the snow that dusted Liyue’s highest mountain peaks.
It had not been so fun when, that very same evening, a young teenage girl approached Xingqiu while he’d been alone on one of the estate’s many pavilions yet again; reading by himself this time as the late-spring rain had fallen down. She’d been donned in those same exorcist clothes of white, letting Xingqiu immediately identify her as a member of Chongyun’s clan, hair long and grey and eyes piercingly pale blue. There’d been a startlingly fierce glare set on her face like it was carved from stone as she came to stand in front of him, arms folded. She couldn’t say much, not to one of the heirs of a clan with a much higher social status than that of her own, Xingqiu knew as much as he’d stared up at her in with a mixture of both confusion and slight terror, but she could still whisper to him in anger, where there were no guards to overhear the words that then left her mouth.
‘Don’t hurt my nephew again. He is sensitive to heat; don’t abuse this knowledge he shared with you to bully him.’, she’d hissed out between gritted teeth, before pulling away, turning around and slipping past the corners with a presence as slight as a ghost’s, feet light and quick and nimble. One moment she’d been there, the next gone. Xingqiu could only stand out in the cold, face flushing as he experienced for the first time in his life the feeling of complete and unbearable shame. He’d drowned in this emotion as he didn’t dare move from where he stood; accompanied only by the constant pitter-patter of rainfall smacking against the lily pads that floated on the ponds' surfaces nearby.
When Chongyun saw him the following day, he’d looked full of shame. He apologised for the behaviour of his ‘auntie’, and Xingqiu had shaken his head; forgiving him with the honesty only a child could muster.
Xingqiu had been eight when he overheard whispers of Chongyun’s condition for the first time.
As their friendship had blossomed and continued, so had the dealings between the Guhua clan and Chongyun’s own. It had become common occurrence by then; for the clan members to be seen wandering their halls and going out into the local villages to practise their exorcism capabilities. Travelling down from their mist-covered villas high up in the mountains to commune with the normal, everyday folk. His father couldn’t be more pleased with this development, and neither could the younger clan members who’d been hoping for chances to demonstrate their skills in public.
It was from these clan members that Xingqiu first heard of this.
‘His Yang energy is apparently unusually high…’
‘Seriously? Can a kid that small even manage power as great as that?’
‘Who knows? It might be too overbearing for him; there’ve been some talks of seeking counsel with the adepti-‘
It hadn’t taken long for the talks of maybe seeing spiritual help to become reality. Chongyun had confessed to him, one late evening, that he might have to go away for a while because of this.
‘I’m sorry-’, he’d whispered, but Xingqiu had refused to accept his apology.
This time, it had been him who’d been comforting Chongyun, becoming the pillar his friend could lean on. ‘There’s nothing to apologise for. I just want to see you one last time before you go, okay? Please?’
Chongyun accepted his request, with as much grace and dignity a snivelling nine year old could allow. On the morning before he’d left, Xingqiu gave him the charm he’d worked hard on making the past few days, and Chongyun had been in tears when he’d accepted it, hugging him tight before departing.
He’d only whispered Chongyun good luck back, and then, his first and dearest friend left, for the first time.
What had started as a journey meant to last only a few weeks stretched into a few months instead, and then, by the time Chongyun had finally returned, Xingqiu was nine himself, and Chongyun ten.
When he’d heard of their arrival, Xingqiu had run to the main entrance, crashing into Chongyun’s arms when he’d spotted him travelling down the hill to the Guhua estate’s gates; accompanied by some clan elders. Under the falling brown leaves of autumn did the two meet again, with the cool breeze ruffling their hair. In that wind, Chongyun had pulled away just for a moment to reach into his pockets, and pull out a decadent white flowing charm embezzled with amber that appeared to glow in the palm of his hands.
‘For you. The adepti- They were willing to show me the arts of creating charms like this; to imbue positive energy onto them. I thought, even if I’m not here with you in the future, this charm will serve as a means of protection. Please, take it.’
Xingqiu remembers staring for just a moment too long, then thanking Chongyun easily; latching onto the other’s arm as they’d walked back together, side by side.
‘Pure Yang Spirit’ - this was how the condition had been described to his father, later that evening. The emotions on their faces had been unclear as they’d said it, but Chongyun’s had been that of pure dejection; defeat shining in his eyes. Being an exorcist, when constantly dispelling spirits through his very nature before ever having the chance to intervene on his own agency; it’d been a cruel twist of fate that still stung now to think about. Even back then, Xingqiu couldn’t help but marvel at how clearly the Gods of this world must have a dark sense of humour.
Whether the conversation had caused any doubts to pop up in his father’s mind about the arrangement he had planned between him and Chongyun, Xingqiu still didn’t know. Though, one not knowledgeable about the arts of thaumaturgy would probably struggle to grasp just how devastating of a blow this could be to one as hard-working as Chongyun was. Perhaps the rarity of the condition only made Chongyun that much more of a desirable match, looking through his father’s eyes.
(The thought now makes Xingqiu feel sick to his stomach. He breathes out a long sigh, before he can force himself to continue.)
He was twelve when he started to notice things about Chongyun he hadn’t focused on before.
Training together had become as commonplace as eating lunch together to the two of them; with Chongyun’s focus on heavy great-swords and Xingqiu’s journey to mastering the sword arts passed down through the Guhua clan disciples, the two had quickly found themselves formidable and fun sparring opponents. Practising with each other - whether it had been out in the fields surrounding the estate or within confined courtyards of stone and rubble - was something they’d come to accept as a part of their daily routine, back then.
It is during one of these sessions, where Xingqiu had sat down to take a break and read whilst Chongyun continued with what he remembers as being the boy’s warm-up exercises that Xingqiu had finally begun seeing. He’d looked up from the pages of his book, what exactly the novel had been he can’t remember anymore, but it would’ve been hard to, as all attention was suddenly then drawn onto the way sweat rolled down Chongyun’s face as he thrust his claymore down into the ground with practised ease. For some reason, Xingqiu had then internally noted, the way Chongyun’s arms had surely built up in bulk over the past few months, and when his white shirt he used while training lifts up to reveal the slighted bit of muscle rippling beneath the skin, Xingqiu had found that his throat felt dry, and cheeks burning hot.
He’d been quick to excuse himself, nearly tripping over the entryway in his escape. Fleeing with his tail between his legs. The worst part about it, about the heat that had flushed his face and left his hands clammy and shaking, as he’d slammed his bedroom door shut behind him to well in embarrassment on his own, had been that Xingqiu had known why he was feeling the way he was.
He’d read romance novels before, under the sanctuary of his blankets, and imagined, just what it would be like, if he and Chongyun were fated like the lovers he read about between the pages of the narrative. What it would then be like, if Chongyun were to hold him as close as the heroes held their loves within times of strife, finding the other in darkness to bring forth comfort and light, and if Chongyun were to then whisper to him-
His dear friend hadn’t commented on his late return, when he’d come back to join him in eating lunch together as they usually did. He’d only given him a small smile, asked if he was feeling alright, and then dropped the topic altogether when Xingqiu affirmed he was just fine; and that he’d only been feeling a little peaky earlier. It was innocent curiosity, the tone with which Chongyun had asked the question. He’d suspected nothing was amiss. Xingqiu had been let off the hook, and only then had to suffer in the feeling of shame he’d now been long accustomed to on his own.
They were both fourteen, when they were taken into the main hall and told they’d been betrothed to one another for years.
Xingqiu remembers feeling a blank coolness at first, letting the statement wash over him like fresh rain, soaking it in, letting it ruminate. He’d stared at his father’s smiling face, the expectant gazes of the clan members who stood at a respective distance by his father’s side, and for some reason, something in his stomach had twisted. What they expected from the both of them - he felt so guilty, that he’d dragged Chongyun into something like this, an arranged marriage, something he’d easily be free of if he hadn’t entangled himself in him. Xingqiu had wondered if it was too late to push Chongyun away, let them all believe he hates him just to spare him this fate, but then he felt a tentative hand reach for his own, and stopped thinking altogether.
He turned.
‘Are you okay?’ The question had been barely above a whisper, as Chongyun, flushed pink, squeezed his hand once, twice.
Xingqiu had only nodded, at first. It’d felt stiff, unnatural. ’Are you?’ His voice had been strained, lacking it’s usual confidence.
Chongyun nodded back. He’d been so red, hand admittedly pretty sweaty as he’d clung to Xingqiu’s own, shaking a little as sweat droplets rolled down his forehead. Xingqiu remembers inwardly remarking, that it must’ve been taking everything in Chongyun then to not be overwhelmed into one of his manic Yang energy-filled states. Luckily, the grownups then had finally seen it fit to give them a sense of privacy, turning away and letting the two be amongst themselves for a moment. Xingqiu remembers a feeling of relief at seeing them turning away, and he’d asked Chongyun in disbelief:
‘Are you really okay with this? I had no idea they’d set this up for us, we don’t have to-‘
‘No.’
‘…No?’
Chongyun then somehow went a little more red, before stammering out, voice shaking, ‘I-I mean, no, we shouldn’t not do this. My clan- I mean-‘
‘You don’t need to marry me just because it would be good for you clan-‘
‘No, maybe I don’t. But, if it’s with you…I don’t- I don’t mind.’
‘You…don’t mind?’ Xingqiu recalls still with clarity now how there’d been a tangible groan amongst those present. He’d huffed, then bursting into laughter. Chongyun could only pout at him, but it didn’t take long for his friend to join in. After he’d collected himself, Xingqiu had then whispered, ‘Well, if it’s not too much of a burden to carry, I’ll put myself in your capable hands, dear friend.’
Chongyun had only nodded again, so many times and with such a fierce vigour that it left the elders sighing in exasperation at him again.
But, Xingqiu didn’t mind. He’d barely heard them. He’d only smiled, and felt his heart swell with something that was so all consuming his hands shook in Chongyun’s gentle hold, finally letting himself feel a sense of relief and calm as the two has left by themselves to walk out into the golden afternoon sunshine outside.
They’re fifteen when they’re separated from each other for the final time.
The tragedy that erupted from within Chongyun’s family - a young woman, nearly sacrificed by her own father, left to die in some lonely cave up in the mountains, only barely clinging on by the time those sent searching had found her - it shattered them apart. Reportedly, the mother of the young woman had long since passed from a mysterious illness, one that soon quickly spread throughout a nearby village the exorcism clan had previously resolved to help and protect with frustrating ease. The near-murder of that young woman, if it had succeeded, it seemed it was meant to have been intended as a sacrifice, one which would apparently quell whatever beast had infested the area with it’s relentless and mysterious disease. The villagers left behind in the wake of the mess had been absolutely furious; saying what hypocrites these exorcists were that they’d commissioned, to promise them protection from evil beings when one so vile had lingered within their own ranks for so long, undetected. Not to mention the utter failure on their part to bring this tale to a fair end, and solve the village’s problem before things had escalated to this severe of a degree.
It really had been, and still was, a complete and utter catastrophe.
Those so disgusted by the father’s actions left the clan immediately, some leaving entirely and resigning on their previous duties, blaming it on the culture that had grown from within leading to the father being pressured to that ultimate point of desperation. Others wanted only to remove themselves from the picture, clean their hands and start fresh anew in some other corner of Liyue, establish their own clan branch which would no longer be associated with Chongyun’s own. And there were the others, who were so heartbroken by the whole ordeal, and left in search of her; to the heavenly abodes of adepti that breached the clouds in the sky above.
There was no hope for a marriage seeking to boost each other’s image having any chance of survival in the face of a scandal such as this. A promise unfulfilled. Xingqiu could only relent, and pray Chongyun would not leave him too quickly.
But, the mountains called, and Chongyun would have no choice but to follow in his elder’s footsteps; both for the sake of his dear family member and to get to the root of understanding his condition once and for all. To train with the adepti was to seek immortality itself, refining one’s spirit and constitution to the utmost degree, and it was a path allowed only for those who were willing to cut off all human contact to train within those misty terrains; under the watchful eyes of beings that had roamed Teyvat for centuries. Chongyun would have no choice but to leave, and neither would ever know if they’d see the other again.
‘I don’t want you to go.’ Xingqiu had whispered out into the night, the one before Chongyun’s departure in the following morning. Selfish, so selfish, always so selfish. He’d hated himself more with every passing moment, with every bit of greed that longed for Chongyun to stay with him, or to leave and abandon his duties to join him up there, training his martial arts to his heart’s content by his dear friend’s side. He’d let himself hope, in Chongyun agreeing to their marriage, that there’d been a future for them yet. But then, as they’d laid together on the floor of his bedroom in tears, Xingqiu had known that this would not be the case.
Chongyun could only apologise numbly. It’d only made the ache in Xingqiu’s heart swell even fiercer, and he’d hugged Chongyun tight if only to stop him from speaking again; and letting the two of them enjoy each other’s presence in a fond quietness for one final time.
There’d not been much fanfare when Chongyun and those he followed did leave the next day. There’d been no time for it, and it wasn’t like Xingqiu’s father had even entertained the idea to decorate their departure to begin with. All ties were cut, and it to his father the whole affair would’ve so undeniably been considered a complete and utter waste of time. As a result of it, his second-son would once again have to find another path for himself; forever shrouded in the unrelenting presence of his older brother’s shadow.
He could only wave, and watch Chongyun’s disappearing figure with a pretend apathy while in the presence of his father; hand clutching the charm Chongyun had given him tight.
He’d only allowed himself to crumble, when alone in the privacy of his bedroom quarters once more.
It’d been in those intense moments of fragility after Chongyun’s second and final departure that Xingqiu longed to see his mother most.
What he remembers of her is sweet, sun-soaked memories of resting by her lap in her bedroom separate from his father’s as she’d combed his hair and read him stories aloud of chivalry; delivered with all the gusto and respect a child could desire those stories being read aloud with. It was easy to follow along, whenever she told the story to him. Her eyes had been pools of gold, and her smile was kind as it always graced her features whilst she read.
Truthfully, he did not know her long before she passed. But, in those crushing moments of loneliness, it was easy to imagine her by his side, her soft voice whispering those same tales recycled over and over; blocking out the cold and cruel of the world with her ghostly visage.
(His hand stills from where it had been writing so furiously. The ink bleeds, soaking onto the parchment’s surface, as he only wishes that it were possible to see her once more.)
The wind whistles outside, carrying with it the scent of sweet flowers and grass. It rustles his hair, shuffles the papers that he writes on, and Xingqiu sighs, putting down the quill with which he had been writing with and closing the lid of his ink-pot he’d been dipping it into on tight.
There’s a pool of ink left behind by his own carelessness, and he leaves it to dry on it’s own rather than attempt cleaning it up and making even more of a mess. Documenting these memories onto parchment, it’d been an important task for him to remember them with as much clarity as possible, on the days it’d all seemed like some far-off dream, and Chongyun merely an imaginary friend he’d dreamt up in the loneliness of his youth.
The physical reminder that it was real hangs at his waist, always. His hand unconsciously comes to rest at it now, and he feels a flash of peace within his body upon touching the warm amber’s surface. It was attached to the blue gem of his Vision now, which he’d received somewhere in his fifteenth year not too long after Chongyun had left. It’d been in a moment of unbearable agony, as he tried to protect his guards from an unexpected ambush during a trip to Liyue Harbour, that the Vision had awakened. In his desperation, he’d imagined Chongyun by his side, prayed with all strength that he was well and that Xingqiu would be able to protect those that were left standing by him and all those who he held dear, and when he’d opened his eyes it was there; already clipped to his side as if a personal assistant from Celestia had descended to do just that.
(‘To control the Element of Hydro,’ his father had mused upon seeing it for the first time. ‘What an incredible feat you have accomplished, dear Xingqiu.’ While he could appreciate the compliment, the fact it’s awakening had only come in the aftermath of the injuring and pain of the soldiers who’d vowed to protect and follow him, it makes Xingqiu feel a little revolted with himself. He’d heard reports afterwards, that apparently during the time of his fight the waters which surrounded Liyue Harbour had raged in sudden storm of severe intensity, and that it only then subsided a few minutes later seemingly out of nowhere.)
That’d been three years ago, he was eighteen now; what some would consider to be a man grown. In the time that had passed between then and now, his hair had grown much longer, his face losing some it’s baby-fat, and his stature had become a little taller, his muscles lithe and strong. He’d inherited all of the Guhua clan’s sword techniques, picking up learning the art of the pole-arm along the way, training his own pupils as his older brother had moved firmly onto handling all financial and political affairs of the family after his father, but, apart from these instances, much in his life had remained stagnant in the wake of Chongyun’s departure. One could only absorb themselves into the worlds of novels and martial arts for so long, after all.
He’s pulled from his thoughts when there’s a knock at his door. A voice, hesitant, asks from the other side, ‘My Lord, are you ready to begin heading out for your investigation?’
Xingqiu frowns, and puts away the parchments he’d been writing on to the same hiding place he’d stashed all the countless marriage proposals he’d received which he pretended to consider if only to placate his father’s curiosity, before then answering the servant, “Yes. Tell my father I am bound to depart within the next five minutes, should he have need of me.”
‘Of course, Young Master.’ Footsteps sound, slowly leaving from the door and down the hallway outside his bedroom, and Xingqiu stands from his seat. His legs ache from sitting down for too long, and he stretches, wincing. He checks his appearance in the mirror, a quick hand running through his hair before loosely tying it to the side. Better to not let it get in the way during combat, he figures. With that, he picks up his sword from where it rests against the wall, slots it into it’s halberd, and slides open his bedroom door to step out into the hall; turning to leave through one of the many back entrances of his family’s labyrinthian mansion.
His destination is on the tip of his tongue, as he leaves through the main gates and is greeted by the sight of only his most reliant of disciples waiting for him; polished armour and weapons glinting in the morning sunlight. He speaks, tone commanding, “Remember, Qingce village is our location for investigation today. Be on guard for the course of the journey; you never know when those Treasure Hoarder scum are likely to launch an attack. The Millelith are likely to join us eventually when we’re there, so make sure to be accommodating and respectful to them as well whilst fulfilling your duties.”
A chorus of ‘Yes, Young Master.’ sounds throughout his forces immediately, all bright-eyed and ready for the tasks laid out for them, and Xingqiu nods in affirmation before turning on his heel, and steeling himself for the journey ahead.
Justice as a principle would not be able to protect itself on it’s own, it was up to people like him to protect and guide those he could, and he would do this service with no complaint and no expectation for gratitude. The power of water was in it’s ability to take any shape, and he would mould himself into the kind of vigilante Liyue needed, and protect all those that he could.
Before heading off, he touches the charm Chongyun had made for him once again, and feels emboldened enough to take that first step forward.
It was easier said than done, to try and become the embodiment of justice itself.
Xingqiu had been barely worried about possible dangers involved with this investigation, at first. Of course, no matter how seemingly non-dire a situation may appear on the surface, he was well aware that it only took a bit too much confidence and lack-of-care to turn what could be manageable on his own into a complete disaster. Underestimating your enemy was one of the most foolish and certainly most dangerous things one could do, when they became too comfortable in their own shoes to remember that they were not invincible. He’d never been one to lack confidence in this regard, but he’d not let this faith in his abilities hinder him in terms of clouding his own judgement; especially when taking into account the capabilities of the men he brought with him on the larger-scale missions he sought to complete.
At least, so far he had always managed to take such things into account.
Either way, the reports he’d read had initially seemed rather…dull, for lack of a better word. Not in terms of the crimes that were being committed - stealing from a village primarily consisting of the elderly and young, and their crops no less - it was a heinous crime that instantly left a foul taste in his mouth when he’d read the documents for the first time. He knew folks like the Treasure Hoarders that roamed Liyue’s countryside could be low in moments of desperation, but this had seemed a bit much even for them. However, he’d not been particularly worried that his men wouldn’t be able to handle it.
So, when Qingce village is uncharacteristically quiet by the time he and his party finally do arrive, Xingqiu cannot help but err on the edge of caution; and warn them to stay close and not stray far from the main group. It was immediately off-putting - county roads usually roamed by laughing young children were left ghostly sparse, as a thick, impenetrable fog rolled down from the mountains surrounding the area; leaving the air feeling damp and ominous, and their field of vision more and more obscured the further they ventured onwards. It had turned out to be good advice to keep the group together; as one could only see a few centimetres from their face, by the time they left the bamboo forest and began walking on one of the bridges that are linked directly to the village.
Xingqiu remained at the front of the group always, hand now resting on the hilt of his sword. There was a certain degree of danger that permeated throughout the atmosphere around Qingce village; and being cautious was not going to be a hindrance in a situation like this.
“Young Master,” someone whispers from behind, and he puts out his arm to stop them in their tracks when he hears them begin to shuffle closer. Whatever lingered on the outskirts of Qingce - it was not a group of rogue Treasure Hoarders like the reports had described. At least, not here.
“Wait just a moment,” He commands, and the disciple does as he says, the group coming to a standstill then, as Xingqiu stands at the head of the bridge, not allowing any to pass before him. He continues, “No matter what happens, stay here until I say otherwise. Do not move or engage anything on your own.”
There’s a moment of palpable hesitance at his words, but his tone is clear that he’ll brook no argument, and the disciples soon relent. Confident they’ll do as he says, Xingqiu moves, and the wooden planks of the bridge beneath him creak immediately under his weight. The rope keeping the bridge held together sways though there’s no breeze, and there’s a faint shadow that flickers across the white blanket of fog in front of him, only visible for barely a moment before it’s gone without a trace.
The grip on his sword tightens.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
His blade feels light in his hand, as he steadies it with a practiced flourish, eyes closed only for just a moment to let himself concentrate. Feel the power of water that emanates from the crystal he lets hang by his side, summon the sharp blades that shape themselves from behind him; attached to him by an invisible string, by the force of will alone. He catches their blue reflections shimmering on the surface of the sword he holds steady in his hands, when he opens his eyes again.
He moves a step forward, and sees, that flicker of darkness again; but a wisp of smoke that fades in an instant. In that split-second of visibility, he surges forward, blade an extension of his arm as he thrusts it forward with a yell.
The adrenaline leaves his heart racing, as he slices through the fog like snow. He tries to keep his aim steady, a clean cut path for his disciples to follow suit, and the tip of his sword meets that of a drowning dark fog, that pulls him off-balance.
Xingqiu grits his teeth, steps back only a step. He knows the island he’s travelled to, it’s only a small mound of land; that hovers not too far up above over the rivers and fields of Qingce. The mass of black follows, screeching as it chases after him, and he can’t help but wince at the noise it lets out.
It’s only a moment of weakness, but it lasts too long all the same. He sends down a blade of water in a strike, trying to create some distance between himself and whatever creature that now lingered within the mountain’s fog. He can’t afford to let his guard down like this, to let his disciples down, his father, his brother, those suffering under the wrath of whatever manner of beast or spirit this was.
He spits, as he swings his sword back at the creature’s continuing advances. He wouldn’t dare to. With every swing of his blade, the creature bounces back, weak under the offence of it’s silver gleam. “Evil creature,” the words leave his mouth without thought, “it would be my pleasure to erase you from this world, and keep the people of Qingce safe.” Another shriek sounds, as he lunges again and pierces the billowing black smog. It separates into two under the slice, but soon fades, as the halo of swords that cling to his back strike down in unison following his final slash.
Whatever it was, it disperses soon after, and Xingqiu allows himself to let out a small sigh of relief. Even not knowing it’s origins, it appeared to have at least been weakened in their scuffle. He turns - the fog has cleared enough with his strike that he can see his disciples are still following his demands, as they stand by the edge of the bridge with their hands resting on the hilts of their swords, stances ready. Seeing him now looking at them, the disciples perk up, shouting, “Young Master, are you alright?”
He nods, opening his mouth to reply, but before he can get a word out-
He senses it, rather than seeing it; the shadows that then leap out from the mist surrounding him. He brings up his sword as fast as he can; though the creature, it seems to have split into multiple entires, it barely flinches as it bounces off of the metal and returns to dive at him again.
“Young Master!” Footsteps hurriedly sound, and he can’t warn them in time, not before he hears a loud wince, a cry of pain that rings through the air.
“Stay right where you are!” He shouts over the clang of his sword meeting with the swivelling black swipes, looking over his shoulder. Some of his disciples, they’re crippled onto themselves in pain, the result of this violent black shadow reaching out and slashing them as it did against him, and his heart aches at the sight. “Keep safe, and together, and do not cross this bridge under any circumstances! Take all injured and retreat!”
“But, we can’t-“
“Do as I say!” He’s never heard his voice so strained as it was now, as he yells out to them. He summons his water blades again, and sends them scattering to heal those injured; though the respite from their injuries will only be temporary. It’s better than letting them bleed out in this forsaken fog. So be it, if he is left with no means of protection for himself. He’d always been good at improvising on his feet.
Sensing they’d disobey his orders this time, he swivels in the dance he’s engaged in; slicing the ropes that hold the bridge up leading to his location with a clean cut. It falls into the abyss of mist below them, and his disciples cry out again, but it’s better this way. Better to keep them safe in whatever way he can, then let them fight and fall to a creature such as this.
Xingqiu was determined - he would not die, not to something like this.
So he raises his blade, and continues to strike.
The black smog seems to eventually recede again under his attention, as he spins and dances around it’s attacks. But then from the fog comes other figures, those with much more distinct shapes than that of the spirit he’d been engaged with, and he has to stop his sword from striking against the bare skin of a person as they approach him. Their movements are stiff, and the reason as to why becomes all too clear as the mist parts and they lunge forward at him, weapon held strongly in their hands as their dragged by entrails of black smog that take lead the person on. As he reflects their attacks, it becomes all too clear these are Treasure Hoarders; in their typical attire and seemingly passed out as whatever possessed them continued to use their bodies as a means of attack. Others emerge out from the fog alongside the one he’s engaged with, all in that same Treasure Hoarder dress with lost looks in their eyes as they hold their weapons at the ready.
It was a dirty trick, to try and protect itself in the body of flesh; let alone several. Avoiding shedding blood himself, Xingqiu leads them across the bridge still held up opposite, one that finally does lead directly into Qingce village. He can feel himself run ragged, as he continues to avoid the oncoming attacks. He slides past quaint country homes he’d spent years of his early childhood playing outside of, laughing, hand-in-hand with-
Focus.
He grits his teeth, narrowly missing an axe thrown to his head, and it slams into a wooden wall behind him with a resounding crunch. The Treasure Hoarders, they move like puppets-on-string, moves easily predictable, but their numbers were becoming overwhelming, as more emerged out from the fog. Just how many of these poor bastards were under this creature’s control? The numbers seem impossible to count; with just how many pour out from the fog still and follow in his footsteps.
Dying out here in this lonely village; there could probably be much worser ways to go. Would it be considered a heroic sacrifice, done to protect his students? Or instead a foolhardy fate that would’ve been easily avoided, if the matter had been more investigated which sent him here in the first place? Only time would tell, and Xingqiu’s not sure he’ll be alive long enough to know the result.
It only takes him to lose his footing again, as the ground becomes muddy and uneven beneath him. A small slip, and weapons dive after him. With everything in him, Xingqiu brings his blade to meet their attacks, feeling the power of water flow through him, and-
A flash of white. It slams down in front of him, so bright it blinds him as he slashes outwards. The earth beneath him shakes, cracks, and as the light finally recedes, he sees.
A claymore of ice, it’s tip buried into the ground, and from that long rivers of ice that now permeate across the village. Flakes fall as if it were winter, a cool breeze brushes past him, and the figure that appears is tall as they stand over him, hand firmly gripped on the hilt of their weapon. They reach up with their other hand, blue streaks of lights forming in front of him, and they yell:
“Mind be purged, world be saved!"
Xingqiu’s eyes widen.
Another surge of ice forms from under him, the spirits hiss, shriek, and there’s another flash of white. When Xingqiu opens his eyes, the light has faded, the fog residing, and the back of the figure is clear to him, as they pull their claymore up from out of the ground. They are tall, signs of strength clear as holding such a weighty weapon bears no hindrance to them, wielding it with only one hand to attach it to their back. Like the icy blue that glows from their weapon, their hair is light, and when they turn to face him, he sees their eyes match the colour.
‘Are you alright?’
“Chongyun…?” The question falls from his lips. His voice sound thin to his ears.
The figure in front of him; they flinch just the tiniest bit at the sound of his name being spoken aloud. All mist between them departs, and it’s so clear to him then, that this is his dear friend, this is what has become of him in the time they’ve spent apart. ‘Chongyun’, he only stares at him for but a moment where he still sits on the ground, and then reaches down, offering him a hand.
“Can you stand?”
Words feel thick in Xingqiu’s throat, laden with honey. All he can do is nod dumbly, and grasp the hand stretched out for him, gently. Chongyun is quick to hoist him up, like he weighed nothing, and rests his other hand on Xingqiu’s elbow whilst he tries to find his balance. Xingqiu notices then, the ice cast by Chongyun underneath them is already melting away; shedding into flakes and dispersing in only mere moments. His eyes are drawn to the culprit of Chongyun’s powers; a Cryo Vision which shines as it hangs by his waist, and dangling from it-
“You kept it.” He says it without thinking.
Chongyun’s eyes follow where he’s looking to, and for just a moment, there’s an expression that flashes across his face so similar to the ones he’d wear as a child; a mix of disbelief and fondness that melts as quickly as it came. He only raises an eyebrow at Xingqiu then, before replying, “Of course I did.” With an arm now wrapped around Xingqiu’s shoulders to keep him propped up, Chongyun’s other hand comes to touch it. “It was a present from a close friend. I couldn’t just get rid of it, could I?”
Ah. Xingqiu chuckles, though still a bit shaky in Chongyun’s hold. “I suppose you couldn’t. I guess it’s a good thing I kept mine as well, or a very dear friend of mine might be quite offended at my carelessness.” He can’t help but feel a little surprised at himself; at how quickly the jokes come flowing back despite everything.
Chongyun shakes his head, and it gives Xingqiu’s traitorous eyes a chance to linger on the shape of his old friend’s jawline, before he forces them to look to the ground instead. He’s pulled out of his embarrassed stupor by the sound of Chongyun’s voice:
“I knew you’d never get rid of it.”
“Huh?”
He meets Chongyun eyes again, and swears he shivers, just at the sight of how blue they are. His friend only blinks, still leading him onwards, before adding, “When the adepti- When they showed me how to imbue charms such as the one I gave you, they also told me, it would let me know when you were in danger. They told me that it would act as a link between us, so I’d know if something dire happened in my absence.” There’s just the faintest colouration of pink across Chongyun’s cheeks then, and Xingqiu can’t help but marvel at the sight. Marvel at the sound of Chongyun’s voice, now lower, gravelly, though still as soft as he remembers it being when he was young.
He’s sure his cheeks are burning, when he only stiffly nods again, and adds quietly, ‘I would never get rid of it anyways.’.
The rest of the walk back to his disciples is in a sort-of companionable quiet, though it doesn’t last long, as when they notice him they shout with joy from the other side of the broken bridge. Xingqiu’s shoulders sag with relief seeing they’re in a much better shape than he’d left him; the work of his water blades healing them just enough to keep them together for now. Of course, he would be taking them immediately to seek medical attention anyhow.
But-
“Wait. What about the Treasure Hoarders? Are they alive?”
Chongyun doesn’t move, only closes his eyes for a moment, before opening them again. The look on his face is grave as he answers, “They’re dead.”
“Oh…”
“There was nothing you could have done.” The tone of Chongyun’s voice brooks no argument, it’s obvious he’s not just saying this to placate him. “The evil spirits that possessed them, they’re a vile kind, draining life force as soon as they attach themselves to a victim. The best we can do for them now, is give them a respectful burial so that they may pass on to the next life.”
“I’ll tell you more later.” Chongyun then nods to his men, all waving to them with cheer in their voices, as the sun returns to shine down on Qingce village and leaving their weapons sparkling under it’s light. “Your disciples, they’re injured. Let me take you to my clan’s home, we can heal them. Coming into contact with such evil creatures as you have, they have the potential to taint and haunt souls if one has been tarnished by their contact with them, if they do not have a refined constitution. Please, allow me to do this for you.”
Xingqiu swallows. “If that’s alright, then thank you, Chongyun.” He tries to give him a grateful smile, though he’s sure it looks a little strained as the aches of his earlier battle come to settle in his bones.
He’s unsure if Chongyun is able to sense this, when the exorcist pulls him just the tiniest bit closer.
“Young Master!” A loud voice rings out. “The Millelith- They’ve arrived! What should we do?”
As one of his disciples says this, Xingqiu spies them in the distance; yellow armour and spears clear against the Liyue countryside even from so far away. He calls out in return, “Send the most able of you to bring them a message, that there’s dead here, and to contact the Wangsheng Funeral Parlour immediately to come collect them, lest we have further hauntings on our hands here. After delivering the message, come back and regroup with us here.”
“Yes, Young Master!”
With one of his disciples taking charge and running off into the distance, Xingqiu then speaks to Chongyun again. “We can’t let the children of Qingce come out and see the village like this. We should go to the houses and speak with them, if there are any inhabitants left hiding here.”
“Good idea.” Chongyun agrees. “But, you should rest, Xingqiu. I’ll go do the talking, you allow yourself some time to recuperate.”
Xingqiu wants to retaliate back, but knowing Chongyun’s stubbornness, he relents, sighing, “Alright, alright. Do what you will.”
The ghost of a smile traces Chongyun’s face at his answer, as he leads him to a small bamboo seat arranged outside before settling him down on it. Before he goes, his eyes linger on Xingqiu for a moment too long, and he wants to ask Chongyun what’s wrong, but before he can-
A hand comes to rest at Xingqiu’s face. He freezes under Chongyun’s attention, as he looks up to his old friend’s face. He swallows. Chongyun’s fingers trace his cheek for just a moment, before tucking some stray locks of hair behind his ear, and then the exorcist’s gone, with nothing but a ‘Thank you’ leaving his lips.
What Chongyun’s thanking him for, Xingqiu has no idea. All he knows is, is that his face burns, as he feels his hands shake slightly as they come to rest in his lap, and his nerves buzzing as he watches Chongyun’s figure walk away.
His throat feels dry.
The walk to Chongyun’s clan is done mostly in silence; the only constant over it’s duration being Chongyun’s arm still wrapped around his shoulders. Xingqiu can’t bring himself to say, or, perhaps more accurately, is too selfish to say, that the help is probably not required. Under the shade of the bamboo that grow tall and strong within this region, he and his disciples walk following the exorcist; higher and higher up into the reclusive Liyue mountains embedded with chunks of amber like jewellery.
Xingqiu can feel the air change as they walk. There’s a certain atmosphere to the higher reaches of Liyue’s plains, one that is mystical in nature and leaves the imagination running as mist seeps in from waterfalls falling down from on high. The paths they walk on are well-trodden, though they meet not another soul on their journey; only accompanied by the whistling winds rustling past them, and the occasional cry of a bird high up in the sky. The rest, is kept in a state of complete tranquility.
Perhaps it is this calmness, that allows Xingqiu to admire how his friend has grown into his features through the time between now and as a young teenager. For one, he’s finally grown into his lanky frame, arms now toned and, quite frankly, pretty distracting as they keep him held on their shared walk together. His hair is a little longer than Xingqiu remembers it being, rougher, still framing his face and eyes with a natural curve. His jawline is sharper than it had been when he was young, though there’s still an air of youth to his features. And no longer does he wear his hoodie Xingqiu had grown so used to seeing in their childhood, now only wearing the black top he’d worn underneath on his upper half.
That, and the way it perfectly outlines the muscles that now ripple throughout Chongyun’s body, is also pretty distracting.
“We’re here.” Chongyun’s voice sounds. Xingqiu tears his gaze away, looking up to meet his old friend’s eyes instead. He then follows his line of eyesight, and examines where they are.
They’re by a small, reclusive pool; surrounded by trees that grow leaves the shade of a rusted red. Lotus flowers grow within the pond, and the surface of the water is clear and startlingly blue as Xingqiu bends ever slightly down to look at it. By the pond is the small entrance of a cave in the mountain’s side, though a shimmering blue sigil shines over it. It only takes a few hand gestures from Chongyun to undo it, and he gestures with his head to the rest of the disciples following behind them:
“This way.”
They follow obediently, some awed whispers tangible over the rush of water when they step inside as they gush over this mysterious exorcist’s abilities. Truly, to come into contact and witness adepti arts such as this was a rare experience, Xingqiu could allow them that.
The further they venture into the abode, the more jagged, blue crystals shine out from the cave walls; as bright and comforting as the blue of Chongyun’s eyes. Xingqiu gasps lightly, when he reaches out and touches the surface of one close by, only to be greeted with a comforting sense of coolness immediately.
Soon, the tunnels of the cave begin to widen, eventually leading them to a round, almost open-feeling area that leaves Xingqiu stricken with awe at the sight of it. The blue crystals surge to the ceiling of the area, bright and sparkling as they cast down their blue light onto the cave’s floor. They curve from where they grow out of the rock, like flower petals being stroked by the spring wind. From the centre of the ceiling comes a gentle waterfall, flowing to a pond alight a pale blue as a result of the crystals shining down on it. Crystalflies dance in the air, leaving golden trails of dust behind them.
And scattered throughout the area, are those exorcists dressed in white, hair and skin as pale as snow.
Xingqiu’s stomach twists with the dread of recognition upon seeing them, and having them see him. In an instant he’s taken back, back to those days wandering through his father’s halls and seeing these mysterious figures walking them too side-by-side, chatting in the courtyards he’d only ever sat and read in, practising their abilities down in the villages near the estate for both recognition and trust from the common people.
It had all felt like a lifetime away, just this morning. Now, it was tangible. It was present. All of it - it had been real.
The exorcists here appear to spy Xingqiu with a sense of trepidation, and it’s not like he can exactly blame them for it. It wasn’t like they’d had the most courteous of goodbyes from his father, when they’d departed those three years ago. Mostly though, their attention seems to be drawn to Chongyun, as he leads them to the glittering pool at the centre of the area.
There, an elder stands. Chongyun bends his head down just a little bit when seeing her, and then speaks, voice loud and clear as it rings throughout the cave, “These people are injured. They’ve come into contact with evil spirits that had been roaming Qingce village. The spirits have been exorcised, but there’s the possibility that their souls could still be tainted, so I’ve taken them here to be purified, and have their mortal wounds healed.”
The elder he speaks to only huffs at his words like she’d expected them. “I’ll allow it.” It’s all she says at first, before turning and hobbling away, a flurry of younger women following in her footsteps. She then adds, “Those without a Vision, follow me. I can take you myself to our purifying pools.”
With Xingqiu’s nod of approval, the disciples follow, leaving their swords behind as a sign of respect when the clan members ask them to without a hint of suspicion. Xingqiu breathes out another sigh of relief seeing them walk away. It was reassuring, to know that despite what they’d been through today, they’d come through alright in the end.
Despite how harrowing it had been, to be on the receiving end of a spirit’s pure and unadulterated wrath.
“Um…” Xingqiu startles at the sound of Chongyun’s voice as he’s pulled from his thoughts, still unused to just how low it sounds now as it reaches his ears. He blinks, and looks to the exorcist. Chongyun continues under his attention, “Would you like some food, Xingqiu? We have plenty to spare here for you and your injured.”
Ah. He opens his mouth to decline in terms of himself, not wanting to personally impede on them any longer than they had to, but his stomach speaks before he can. Colour rises to Xingqiu’s cheeks, and to save whatever grace he can he nods, before coughing out his thanks which end up sounding entirely too strained for his liking.
Chongyun has the decency to not say anything. He just nods back at him, now grasping him by the hand, and leading him further onwards. All he can do is comply, though still feelings the spikes of nerve rise through him as his traitorous eyes can’t help but notice yet again, the muscles of Chongyun’s arms that cling to his tight black shirt.
Shit.
The food of Chongyun’s adeptal home, it was, well, certainly. Um. Artistic.
As Chongyun returns to a small table he’d taken them to in a tucked away corner of the glittering cave, he can’t help but widen his eyes, at just how many flowers are laden on their plates in accompaniment with their food. Or, more correctly, how little food there was in comparison to these floral elements that are arranged so delicately it looks like it had taken some time to get them the way they were. The main dish appears to be noodles though, as he takes the offered chopsticks Chongyun hands him and starts to eat.
The noodles are icy cold when they reach his lips, washed in a gentle flavour that is barely noticeable by the time they’re swallowed down, leaving a floral aftertaste afterwards. It’s much different from his usual orders, back in Liyue harbour seated at Wanmin Restaurant; often doused in chilli oil. The noodles, they’re not unpleasant though, far from it. He can already feel himself becoming more rejuvenated, the aches that wrack across his body becoming dulled the more he eats. He gives Chongyun a small appreciative smile.
“These are really good, Chongyun! I can already feel myself getting better. Thank you.”
“It’s nothing.” Chongyun rubs the back of his neck at his compliments; and it appears to Xingqiu then that he’s still retained his sense of modesty that he used to have in the time they’ve spent apart. “I’m just glad you like it.”
Xingqiu hums. “It’s very much your style. Ah, I don’t mean any offence by that! It’s just, you’d always liked cold foods like this.”
Chongyun only continues eating, giving him a nod; slurping up a flower with his noodles. “I prefer food like this.”
“Hm, I know, I know. I just- I can’t believe you used to let me feed you all kinds of spicy food before, when we were children. Was it some form of training your constitution that you were eating them on purpose? To get used to it?”
It’s an innocent enough question, just meant to be a jab at their younger selves if nothing else, and he only expects Chongyun to chuckle, humour him for a moment before returning to his dish. Instead though, the look that spreads across Chongyun’s face after he finishes speaking is…pensive. Like he was debating with himself in his mind, before opening his mouth:
“That wasn’t it.”
“Eh?” Xingqiu looks from the cup of green tea he’d picked up that Chongyun had poured for him, about to take a sip.
“I knew- When you pranked me before, I’d know if you’d spiced it, but. I didn’t eat it just for training, or resistance.” As he talks, Chongyun’s face becomes more strained, colour rising to his cheeks. It reminds Xingqiu distinctly of the expressions that would take ahold of his dear friend’s face, before falling into a Yang-state. But, somehow, he’s able to then continue, “I…I liked it, when you’d feed stuff to me.”
“Oh.” It’s the only strangled noise Xingqiu can make, as he feels his eyes widen at Chongyun’s sudden confession. He raises his tea to his face, if only to cover what surely was to be a rising blush colouring his cheeks.
Chongyun suddenly stands from where he’s seated, slamming his chopsticks down onto the table with perhaps a bit too much force than necessary. “Excuse me for just a moment, I remembered that I have something to attend to here. I’ll only be a minute.” His walk from their table is rushed, nearly tripping over himself before disappearing around the corner.
“Of course.” Xingqiu barely stammers out. For some reason, he’s stricken with a feeling of deja-vu, watching Chongyun’s retreating figure. He’s never, not in his entire life, felt as on-edge like this. And around Chongyun, of all people. It was disconcerting to say the least, to be this off-balance when before he’d been so easily able to dance around their interactions, flirt undetected before the announcement of their proposal. Chongyun’s honesty, he’s been without it for too long, and now has no idea how to deal with it.
All he can do for now is drink his tea, and hope he can somehow also swallow his feelings down with it.
When Chongyun gets back to him, an unexpected wave of tiredness has taken over Xingqiu’s body, as he rests his head against his hand whilst remaining seated at the table; the rest of his tea left unfinished.
“It’s the results of facing such an evil creature, it strains your very soul.” A warm hand - Chongyun had always been so warm - comes to rest on his shoulder, and gently pushes him to stand. “You’ll need to rest for awhile to recover. Don’t worry, I’ll take you to my room.”
Xingqiu can only nod dumbly, and be led through the cave.
It’s a simple enough bedroom when they reach it, with a bed in the corner, desk at the other end, and wardrobe by it’s side. The room is illuminated only by the natural light allowed from the crystals of the cavern, but it’s a good enough lighting source all the same. Chongyun sets him down on the bed, and then after what appears to be a moment of hesitation, sits down by his side.
“Rest.” It’s the only command Chongyun gives him then, as he puts his hand over Xingqiu’s before giving them a gentle squeeze. With his brain slightly delirious in it’s tired state, Xingqiu can’t help but wonder, at just how much Chongyun had improved in dealing with interactions like this. Before, just when they were kids, it was enough that he should give him a joking peck-on-the-cheek that it would send the exorcist-in-training into a manic state. Now, he could hold Xingqiu like it was nothing.
He can’t refute him. He settles, untying his hair and letting it flow freely down his back before lying into the mattress, resting under blankets thick to keep out the cold of the cave. His bones instantly cry in relief, and though the elder had not called for him needing to be purified after his battle, he feels his spirit begin to ease; here within the safety of Chongyun’s chambers.
Closing his eyes, the drift to sleep is quick, and seamless.
(A hand comes to rest by his hair. It picks it, gently, before then letting go, and the door shuts only moments later.)
There’s a knock at the door.
He groans at the sound of it, eyes screwing shut. He wonders, belatedly as he rouses from his sleep, when his bed had been this comfortable, his blankets this woollen and thick within his bedroom. At the sound of another knock, and a faraway voice, he opens his eyes just the tiniest bit, and is greeted by the sight of the cool glow of blue around him; and of the gemstones that twinkle in the ceiling above him.
And then, Xingqiu remembers. He sits up in the bed, Chongyun’s bed, back creaking in doing so, before looking to the door.
Before he can open his mouth to answer, it swings open.
Hair long and white, pulled into a plait behind her. She’s not recognisable, not at first, but when Xingqiu’s eyes meet that of a pale-whitish blue, his heart stops, if only for but a moment.
This- This was the young woman, who’d survived her fate against the remains of gods and demons, sealed in a cave all on her own. This was also the young woman who’d not been afraid to scold him, when he’d bullied Chongyun as a child.
“Oh.” She says, already pulling the door shut again. “Sorry for the interruption.”
“Wait! You…” He trails off from his question, but the woman appears to understand where he was going with it instantly as she answers, leaving the door slightly ajar as she looks through. It’s an almost childish gesture.
“Yes, I am Chongyun’s aunt, Shenhe. Though, I prefer to consider him more my little brother than my nephew.”
“Oh. Thats, um, nice.”
“Hm,” The ghost of a smile traces the woman’s - Shenhe’s - face, as she continues to assess him. “It is.”
He wants to ask her more, but she interrupts him before he can get a word out, pushing the door fully open once again to speak plainly to him.
“How long will you be staying here?” Shenhe’s question feels exposing as she asks it, piercing gaze never once leaving his face as if she’s waiting for a reaction. It reminds him all too much of their interaction back then, sheltered under the pavilion together.
“Eh? Um, probably not too long. When my disciples are healed and ready to leave, I suppose. I wouldn’t want to impede on your clan or on the adepti any longer than we have to.”
“Oh.” For some reason, she appears to have not expected his answer being that. He feels he’s said something wrong, with the way she looks at him.
With a lack of anything else better to say, and his brain still half-asleep, Xingqiu says what instantly comes to mind without restraining it, “Um, Shenhe, if you don’t mind me asking, just how is Chongyun able to control his powers now? Before, in the village, he was able to vanquish those evil spirits not through just his being, but through his actions as an exorcist. I thought…”
“You thought he’d be chained by that condition his whole life?” Shenhe sighs, and then closes the door behind her, dragging a chair that had been resting against the wall up to Xingqiu’s bed before sitting down. “I suppose he won’t mind me telling you this.”
She has to close her eyes for a moment, before she begins speaking again. Xingqiu can only watch, entranced, as she weaves the tale for him:
“For an exorcist like Chongyun, having a condition like ‘Pure Yang Spirit’ can be devastating. You are perhaps the only one not versed in thaumaturgy who can grasp just how defeating this was, for Chongyun back then. This is because you understood him, and that he wanted to be able to achieve results through his own hard work, rather than it being a side effect of his very being. And while typically such a condition is not usually restrained within exorcist circles, you know as well as I do, it is both a blessing and a curse for Chongyun.”
“Like you said, he’s able to exorcise spirits now without being impeded by his condition. This was only achieved through a combination of hard work, and supervision under adeptal powers.”
“The adepti trained him personally?” He only interjects for the moment, a little disbelieving in just how much Chongyun’s training had evolved from when he’d been drawing talismans as a boy, on his bedroom floor with him by his side.
“Yes. It was under the supervision of my own master, Cloud Retainer, that Chongyun was able to control his Yang energy as much as he can now. I was the one who recommended him to them.”
“Either way, under their help, Chongyun was able to refine his spiritual constitution. Though, for all his training, he’s been…distracted.”
“Distracted? By what?”
In all her pointed honesty, Shenhe is quick to give him the truth of the matter. “You.”
“…Me?”
“Yes.” Shenhe nods as if to agree with herself before continuing, “You are what ties Chongyun to the mortal realm, stopping him from reaching the plane of immortality that so many exorcists strive to achieve at the end of their training. With one as strong as the bond between you two, he was unable to have complete mastery over his skills.”
Xingqiu’s throat feels dry, as he absorbs Shenhe’s words. “It- So it’s my fault then, that Chongyun’s training has remained incomplete.”
“Hm.” Shenhe suddenly stands, looking down at him with her face remaining ever-blank. “That is not the conclusion I wanted you to reach at the end of our conversation. Either way, it’s better I stop speaking about it now, and let Chongyun tell you the rest when the time comes.”
“Ah…” Confusion floods Xingqiu, as he watches Shenhe drag the chair back to where it had been resting before resting her hand on the door. He quickly calls out before she opens it and leaves, “Um, thank you for telling me all of this, Shenhe.”
The piercingly blue gaze comes back to rest on his figure, and she speaks to him once more, “It’s fine. Chongyun cares for you, so I don’t believe I’ve wasted my time talking to you now. And, I also wanted to…apologise.” The expression that takes over Shenhe’s face is almost comically strained, “It wasn’t right of me to talk to you the way I did when you were a child. I was just…I didn’t want Chongyun to get hurt.”
Before Xingqiu can reassure her, she adds on, “But I have to go. Bye.” With that, she’s gone, gently shutting the door behind her in her departure.
And Xingqiu stews, in the information she’s unveiled to him in only a matter of mere moments, describing chunks of Chongyun’s life he’d missed whilst they’d been separated.
There’s the immediate sense of guilt that floods him first, not too dissimilar to what he’d felt when their marriage had been announced as children. The feeling of dragging someone he cares about down with him, and the bitterness it leaves in his mouth when he thinks about it.
Theres also confusion, though. And behind it all, a lingering sense of hope. The Vision at his side ebbs, and he finds he cannot possibly sleep now, not anymore. He’s woken up completely, and with his heart racing a mile a minute, the only remedy that can possibly hope to help calm the nerves alighting throughout his body, is that of the cool night air on his skin outside, and looking at the sights of Liyue from a vista up on high.
With his hair loose as it was now, the wind is easily able to come through it, and the sensation is somewhat refreshing, as Xingqiu steps out from the cavern’s entrance into the Liyue mountain ranges outside. He breathes it in, the cool night air, lets it fill his lungs as he tries to sort his thoughts out in a coherent fashion, the memories of his past visible as they play out before him whenever he closes his eyes. So, instead he walks past the pond nearby, and to the mountain’s edge only a few metres away; to gaze down at Liyue and hopefully provide himself with a sense of tranquility whilst doing so.
It works.
Gazing at the rolling dark clouds that move like rivers past the lower mountains, and the birds that dive out from their fluffy surfaces to soar even further up on high like fish leaping out from water, it’s immediately comforting. Immediately soothing, to take in Liyue’s sights as he did now. Amber shines like torches from this high up; as he spies the chunks of rock shimmering across the countryside; almost like lamps leading him home.
“Xingqiu.” He hears Chongyun’s footsteps approaching first before the other speaks, tone questioning. “What are you doing out here? Are you alright to be standing on your own?”
Xingqiu can’t stop himself from rolling his eyes, an unwarranted anger seeping into the words he speaks, “Oh, please, Chongyun. I’m not so delicate that I need coddling all the time like a child.”
The footsteps stop sounding from a few paces away. The exorcist is clearly taken aback by his behaviour, and Xingqiu can’t blame him. He knows Chongyun doesn’t mean anything by it, when his words might come across as demeaning taken out of context.
“I don’t mean to belittle you,” Chongyun’s voice is steady, after a few moments of silence between them pass and he begins approaching where Xingqiu stands again. “I’m sorry if my language came across as such.”
Ever so polite, Chongyun was. Xingqiu only sighs, shaking his head. “I know you didn’t. I’m sorry as well.” As Chongyun falls in next to him, Xingqiu remains quiet, only continuing to gaze at the view before him.
It does feel right, to be viewing these heavenly sights with Chongyun by his side. He dares to steal a glance to Chongyun’s face, and finds the other staring at him, cheeks dusted pink. There’s a sense of determination set in Chongyun’s expression, one that steals Xingqiu’s breath away when he sees it.
A hand reaches, grasping Xingqiu’s own, fingers stroking across his knuckles, and Chongyun’s mouth is set in a firm line as he looks down at him.
“Chongyun…?” The word is strangled at it leaves Xingqiu’s lips, as he feels his heartbeat pick up, swallowing his nerves.
“There’s something I need to tell you, Xingqiu.” Chongyun’s words are still steady, though his cheeks colour deeper more and more by the second, hand holding Xingqiu’s only just beginning to shake. Xingqiu doesn’t say anything, allows Chongyun the room to speak, and dares to hope, daring, daring, daring-
“The charm!”
…Huh?
Chongyun coughs, looking sheepishly to the side. Xingqiu has to admit, it is just a little bit funny how worked-up his old friend looks right now. He doesn’t giggle like he wants to though; not wanting to rub salt in the wound. At least, not for now.
“The- The charm I gave you, I told you it let me sense when you were in danger, if you were hurt.”
At the lapse of silence between them, Xingqiu figures that’s his cue to answer. “Um, yes, you did.”
Chongyun nods. “T-Three years ago, not too long after I left, it told me you were in dire danger, that you were clinging on by barely a thread. I felt your desperation, your agony, everything, even here up in the mountains.”
Three years ago-
“My Vision.” Xingqiu states, eyes wide.
“Yes.” Chongyun’s expression is grim as he continues. “It was only in the beginning stages of my training that this happened, and when it did, I tried to leave here, tried to find you. But the adepti wouldn’t allow it.”
“My master- They were displeased with my behaviour. They had my fellow clan members, the strongest of us all, try and stop me from leaving. And…”
“And…?” Xingqiu gently prompts, rubbing Chongyun’s hand back as the other’s expression screws tight.
“I fought every single one of them.”
“You- You fought with your family?!”
Chongyun nods again.
“…Wow.”
There’s a huff of laughter that leaves Chongyun’s lips then, and Xingqiu counts it as a personal victory, if only to see the sadness leave his dear friend’s face for but a moment. “I know,” Chongyun acquiesces, shoulders shaking. “That’s not the important part though.”
“What’s important is that- In those fights, at the very end, I felt a blinding white power flow through me, a surge of ice rise from my soul, and in the next moments that followed, all was darkness.”
“I only ended up waking a few days later. My Vision-“ Chongyun touches it then, and Xingqiu swears the jewel shines for just a moment under his light touch. “It awoke at the end of the fight, when all of my being, was focused on helping you.”
Chongyun stops touching his Vision, and then reaches, cupping Xingqiu’s cheek instead. The warmth of his fingers against his skin is almost searing, and Xingqiu leans into it instantly. “I didn’t care about any of that though,” Chongyun whispers, “I only cared that I could still feel your warmth, when I touched my charm again. It was pretty embarrassing, I ended up crying in front of everyone.”
Xingqiu snorts, but allows Chongyun to finish. The smile that spreads across Chongyun’s face then, it’s so warm, and real, and bright.
“My master- They could only sigh and shake their head. ‘One is always distracted by thoughts of another-’, they’d said, after I directly disobeyed their orders. Do you know what they said after that?”
Xingqiu shakes his head.
“‘It is a good thing, that one has such a profound connection to the mortal realm. A bond this strong is rare to come by, even for an adepti like oneself.’”
“I didn’t-“ the words come tumbling out of Xingqiu’s mouth. “I didn’t want to distract you from your destiny like this.” The guilt, it’s almost too much to bare, as it seizes his heart whole.
Chongyun only disagrees. “You aren’t a distraction, Xingqiu.” He lets the unspoken ring between them, as he pushes back some stray locks of hair that blow in the wind behind Xingqiu’s ear yet again.
You are my fate.
Xingqiu’s not sure if he can say anything that will match the majesty of Chongyun’s words in this moment between them. Perhaps it would be better then, to lets his actions speak louder than whatever he could say. So, he steps closer, hand resting on Chongyun’s chest, leaning upwards, and presses his lips to Chongyun’s own.
Chongyun is quick to melt against him, wrap his arms around Xingqiu’s figure tight as they sway together in the breeze. It’s a little shy at first, both unsure in what they’re doing, but eventually Xingqiu sighs against him, tangling his hands through Chongyun’s hair as he presses closer.
When they part, he has to catch his breath, resting his forehead against Chongyun’s chest, much like he’d done as a child, when they first met and he couldn’t stop the tears from flowing down his cheeks. Chongyun only strokes his hair, kissing the top of his head, and he can’t help the joy that spreads across his chest, as they bask together in the morning sunrise.
“You know, I’d always thought you were a little oblivious when it came to these things, dear Chongyun.” He somehow finds himself managing to joke, looking up to meet Chongyun’s gaze. It’s worth it, to catch the way the exorcist familiarly bristles at his teasing.
“I’m not completely naive…” Chongyun complains, pouting at him like a child. Xingqiu doesn’t bother restraining his laughter then, leaning up to press his lips against Chongyun’s cheek before answering:
“Of course, my love.”
At the sight of the red that spreads across Chongyun’s cheeks upon hearing the nickname, Xingqiu cackles. “Aiya, so easy to tease!” He wants to tease further, but-
Chongyun’s lips come crashing down on his own, stealing the words out from his mouth, and he’s left panting when they finally separate, and there’s an uncharacteristic smugness to Chongyun’s expression when he pulls away.
“Hm.” Xingqiu now finds him to be the one pouting between them. “Not fair.”
Chongyun pffts, and Xingqiu can’t help but join in; before he asks in disbelief, “And since when have you ever been?”
Under the rising sun, sending it’s morning rays across Liyue’s brightening sky, Xingqiu is only filled with optimism, as he’s held in his first love’s arms so securely, he feels he can never fall away again. They’d managed to slip past one another before, and it’s here, under Chongyun’s affectionate gaze, that Xingqiu vows to himself, that he’ll never let that happen again.