Chapter Text
June
A torn umbrella offered close to no protection from the drizzle of early summer rain. Lumine clicked her tongue in frustration before discarding the useless item in the nearest bin. She could already feel her hair growing heavier with dampness, even if it was on the short side. That was the least of her concerns – she was severely worried about her rayon shirt beginning to stick too close to her body. There were a few blocks remaining. The only salvation was to break into a run.
As a result, she arrived at the Grand Music Hall in Sumeru City out of breath and soaked – be it by rain or sweat, she couldn’t really tell anymore. Ah, her elegant getup went to hell. Just in time for an international concerto, she thought with exasperation. Alas, little can be done in the face of unforeseen circumstances. There was hardly any time to pay the clothing disaster mind – she had close to five minutes to retrieve her press badge before the event. After that, the office would close.
“Archons, doesn’t the name ‘rain forest’ ring any bells? It rains, Lumine. Quite a lot.”
She’d recognise that sour tone with the aftertaste of hidden kindness everywhere. A few seconds passed by before her breath stabilised enough for her to form a reply. “You don’t say.”
Tighnari had his arms crossed on his chest, one eyebrow arched up as he regarded her sorry state. Clearly, there was more on his mind that he would like to say, yet he refrained – either finding it utterly pointless or just feeling for her a little. She needed no more harsh words right then. Instead of serving another portion of his signature snide remarks, Tighnari held out a small parcel, on top of which laid her press badge. Lumine’s eyes widened and she broke into a huge grin. “You’re a lifesaver.”
“That’s just a badge. I told you I’d get you a pass into the concerto. As for the package, Collei was afraid that you’d get caught in a downpour. She fixed you a change of clothes. Go change and meet me in ten minutes by the entrance to the main stage area.”
Forgetting that she stood in the middle of a room filled with posh people awaiting their high-class entertainment, Lumine yelped as she leaped forward and threw her arms around Tighnari’s neck. “Thank you, thank you, thank you! I’ll be as quick as the lightning!”
She disappeared into the crowd before Tighnari could even process her sudden outburst. True to her word, she stepped into the ladies’ bathroom like a storm and five minutes later her hair was fixed, makeup all clean and the newly donned dress sparkled on her with the modesty of a fine young lady and dignity of a noble. “You can never go wrong with a little black dress. Nice save, Collei,” Lumine whispered to herself and made a mental note to catch her young friend after work and thoroughly thank her for her thoughtfulness.
One last glance in the mirror, a smear of pale pink lip gloss, drizzle of sweet flower perfume – and just like that, she didn’t resemble that ragged panting mess in any way. Head held high, she left to look for Tighnari. When she did, he looked her up and down, as though she was another specimen of wild rainforest flower put on a display for classification, and nodded with approval. “High-end journalist. Well, you are one, but now you look the part.”
Lumine smiled coyly, hands working to untangle the strap on the badge so it could rest safely around her neck. That was tonight’s holy grail, her pass to the world of endless potential that she wished to use to the fullest. And it couldn’t have been possible without her dear friend. Grand Music Hall had a joint project with the Akademiya, which had involved every party in the organisation of the event: musicians, professors, students and researchers alike. There was absolutely no trouble for the head of the logistics of the concerto to secure a single press badge – and that very head of logistics happened to be TIghnari.
Lumine spun around to take in her surroundings – the Grand Music Hall was filled to the brim with enthusiasts, journalists, talented performers and so many more. All gathered for a common goal. Truly breathtaking.
With a single exception.
Her focus shifted back to Tighnari, a chuckle bubbled in her throat.
“What?”
“You look like a fish out of the water in this company. And in that suit, no less,” Lumine was used to seeing him clad in his field clothes, the botanist always on the mission to push through with yet another research. That strangely dignified image was refreshing to say the least.
“Give the badge back,” Tighnari grumbled, his arms stretching towards her precious holy grail.
“That’s mine now! I was just kidding, you know,” Lumine pouted, the badge pressed close to her chest.
“I know. So, are you finally ready to tell me why you were this desperate to get a pass into the concerto? Besides the obvious fact of you being a music journalist. I’ve never heard such a sense of urgency from you.”
“Right. Are you aware of the Golden Plume of Teyvat reward? The gala is organized every five years, each time in a different country. It’s the most prestigious journalism prize one can ever receive. I have time until October to write an article that will blow everyone away. It has to be novel, it has to be awe-inspiring, mind blowing! I’m attending every event I can, and there hasn’t been one that would have as much socialite as this one. I feel like this is it.”
“I had a hunch it’d be about the Golden Plume. Lumine,” Tighnari’s hand plopped on her head, a large palm lightly ruffling her freshly fixed hair. “You’re already an amazing journalist. You got this. If there’s anything else I can assist you with, just let me know.”
The corners of her eyes trembled slightly as a smile broke through her delicate features. Yes, she knew she could always count on him. However, hearing the reassurance blew new wind into her spread wings. “You’re the best.”
“Mm, so you’ve said. Now, off you go. I myself have no access to the journalists’ space. Let’s get lunch together with Collei tomorrow and you can tell us what you’ve found.”
“Yes, let’s. See you tomorrow, then!”
And just like that, she disappeared behind the heavy oaken door.
***
Melancholic beauty of classical music had always had a way of stirring something deep within the strings of her heart. As the mind and logic drifted to places afar, beyond reach, there was simply sound that resonated with what was left – the very depth of the soul. Be it tragic, be it happy, be it silly, be it serious – every note had the might of striking a chord she never expected to have. The tips of Lumine’s fingers trembled slightly as the onstage musician brought a tide of decrescendo that eventually turned into the echo of memories as the hall erupted into applause.
Even with the remnants of the melody faded into nothingness, the musician’s face presented a wide kaleidoscope of raw emotions – the truest and purest fuel powering the awe of the avid music lovers. It was never just about the sound, but also the stories behind it shown with each spasm of nerve on the face of the performer.
Lumine sighed, the voice of the announcer snapping her out of her little world. The concerto was drawing to a close, and as much as it was beautiful, nothing so far slapped her right across the head with a loud ‘that’s it!’. Maybe she was destined to keep looking. And if that wouldn’t work as well, she would be ought to broaden her field of interest to more than bowed string instruments.
She pulled out the brochure to read about the next performer. A frown creeped up her otherwise calm face when faced with the fact that there wasn’t much. Just a handful of information about his previous appearances, the master he had been guided by until very recently and… that’s it. A dry introduction.
Another moderate round of applause opened the path for the mysterious performer to take the stage. Her eyes had to adjust to the bright lights yet again, in result she managed to focus on his face as the first sounds reverberated within the walls. His features appeared dignified yet delicate, bright eyes – not sure what colour – were drawn to some faraway point, seen only by him. Dark hair had been neatly styled, its ends showing hues of teal. He kept his posture straight, body lean in a fitted suit.
Usually, there would be that characteristic, impalpable tension leading to a grand opening and further to the outburst of feelings tangled deep within a musician’s heart. This time no such thing occurred. As he lifted his violin and put the bow atop the strings and the notes began to flow, there was nothing.
No, there was music. Beautiful. Causing the very core of existence to tremble and wither under its spell. Unspoken and unspeakable. Every single note accented carefully and ideally as a sheet he had learnt from would indicate. His face was empty. His body still. Not even a spark of true self shining through. Not even a faint glint of light allowing her to peer right into his soul.
Hollow.
Mechanical.
Like… like a robot.
Yes, it was magnificent in every meaning of the word – related to the sound. Only if sound brought to clinical perfection was sought after. He had talent. Incredible talent. He played with ease, as one would usually walk in a park on a sunny summer day. Effortless. Blank.
Lumine didn’t know when exactly had her body moved to the very edge of her seat, as though that alone could bring them only inches apart so she could study him thoroughly. There must’ve been something. A crack. A fracture of the studied surface of his countenance. Anything. It felt so unreal. So…
Gears in her mind started to turn. Yes. Yes, of course. She’d heard about him before. From her brother, and other musicians from the socialite. The young genius. Aloof and uptight. Doing everything right to the T. Unsociable. A rising star of the musical world – despite that closed personality and the complete lack of emotions, both in him and his music.
And he’s never, ever given an interview.
Those gears turned into a raging tide in the sea of her mind. Why? What shaped him? What made him the way he is? Why decided to play music if he had no sentiment towards it? Why was he insisting to turn his back to the world that only wished to welcome him?
If she needed a hit, she got a knockout. That was it. The thing she had been looking for, a clear pathway towards the Golden Plume of Teyvat award. The first and exclusive article on the one and only Xiao, Liyue’s most prominent young violinist.
Standing ovation did very little to lift her up along with the crowd. She sat there, leaned forward as much as she could, drilling a whole in the onstage person as though he was some kind of prey that her hunter’s sense wished to possess. And as he turned to leave their eyes met for a split of a second. She could have sworn there was a slight trace of frown gracing these idle features.
“You’re mine.”
The concerto was close to bidding its listeners a farewell, yet her work had only just begun.
***
He didn’t show up at the press conference later. All of the musicians were very eager to answer questions and schedule private interviews. She asked a few, out of politeness and so she wouldn’t harvest any angered glares from the other journalists who were shouting over each other just to get the attention and a chance. Not wanting to stand out, she laconically wrote down the replies – even though she wasn’t interested in either of them, every opportunity to gather information had to be used to the fullest.
Her bottom lip pulsated with dull pain after being bit into for an extended period of time. The frustration outgrew the previous excitement. She had a hunch that if she didn’t catch him that night, then there wouldn’t be any other shot at getting this close. Calling Tighnari wasn’t an option – he already had done enough by getting her that press badge. Besides, the amount of work to wrap such a big event must’ve been horrendous. No, she had to do it on her own.
“You’re not slipping away this easily,” she huffed to herself while standing outside the backdoors of the Grand Music Hall. The rain had let up a short while ago, small droplets still tapped relentlessly from trees and buildings’ rooftops. A few landed on her head and slid down her forehead in cool streams. As far as she knew, not a single musician left through the front door to escape the crowds. There were a handful of other journalists crawling around the backdoor spot, mainly the ones that didn’t get to ask all of the questions during the press conference.
The place emptied as the time passed by. Eventually, most of the performers left, drawing behind them the residue newshounds. All of them but her. Because he hadn’t left yet – not through here anyway. Yes, there was a chance of him choosing the other exit. Sadly, she didn’t possess the ability to split herself apart and cover every single door leading to the venue. Patience was a virtue. Slowly, she started to discover that she’d rather be a sinner and burst in there.
A warm and damp mist came as a harbinger of yet another summer downpour. The air was heavy with humidity, Lumine fought the wave of sleepiness that overcame her. Was it a good time to give up? Was she not dead set on getting a story out of him just a few hours ago? What happened to her resolve? Was it so weak that it began to falter?
Despite the warmth, a shiver worked its way up her spine. Did she even have a right to try? She was still fairly new in the vast world of journalism, especially in that niche. She hadn’t made a name for herself yet, basically being some strange no-name in the eyes of the musicians whose performances would grace international stages. What gave her the audacity to seek the attention from someone who disregarded even her mentors?
Metal door creaked shyly, Lumine’s head darted up at the sound. The person standing in the exit regarded her with a cold glare, which only further solidified the bubbling unease. He snorted before making the effort to look away. “No.”
Lumine blinked a few times, taken aback. No? No, what? Was it directed to her or to someone waiting inside? After a few painfully long seconds it dawned on her that this short retort was reserved for her.
“But I haven’t even—”
“No,” he interrupted, their eyes locking yet again. The previous contempt was gone, replaced by the same indifference that he had presented while playing. Anger and something akin to shame, more fervent and forceful than her hopelessness, took root within the young woman. She straightened up, her chin held high.
“My name is Lumine. I would like to ask you a few questions.”
“No.”
“I’ve heard you refuse every interview.”
“If you’ve heard, then don’t waste your breath here. Leave. Or better, I will.”
He shut the door closed, his right hand clutching the violin case’s handle. Lumine quickly stepped forward to block his way. The musician escaped to the side, only to be met with a barrier in the form of a dainty journalist once more. Exasperation was practically pouring out of him as she blocked him third and the fourth time. “Pesky.”
“Just spare me a moment. Please,” Lumine refused to bulge. One chance. One and only.
“You have one question. One.”
“Really?”
“Yes. And you used it up. Let me through,” he commandeered in a hushed tone. Surely, he was stronger than her, yet something stopped him from shoving past her.
“But I didn’t ask anything yet!”
“Really?”
Lumine’s mouth hung open in a form of ‘O’ so perfect that even fish would be jealous. She quickly closed it with a snap, heat pricking at her skin from the base of the neck up to the cheeks. Why, that rude, insufferable, talented, goddamn—
“Let me through or I’ll let myself through.”
“Please. Just an hour. Nothing more!”
“Leave.”
“Half an hour?”
“Do you not have better things to do than pester me?”
“Ten!”
“I don’t wish to give interviews and I have no intention of changing that. Now go, before I call the security. I knew there would be trouble with you,” he sighed, the last sentence almost inaudible as though he was talking to himself.
He waited this long to play the security card. Ah, she lost. She really did. She went about it the wrong way. Pushed too hard. Got carried away by her exhaustion and anger. A long way laid ahead still for her to become a respected and renowned journalist. The defeat had a bitter taste, one that also tingled with the edge of saltiness – probably thanks to the tears gathering in the pools of her eyes. She blinked them away too late, one managed to escape and trail down the side of her face. Thankfully, the darkness must’ve concealed that display of unprofessionalism.
She still had a bit of time. And there was always another competition in five years. No rush, right?
Lumine cleared her throat to regain some control over her voice. The business card was at the ready, so she extended it to him with a forced smile. “Here, if you change your mind, you can contact me.”
He made no move to take it. Her fingers trembled and the card fell from the weak grasp, fluttered down just to land by their feet. Ah, what a shame. Rain would ruin it soon. “Have a good night,” Lumine bowed her head and fled towards the bustling main street of Sumeru City before her body could fail her like everything else did.
Xiao watched as she pulled out on unsteady legs. What was with her reaction? Was he too harsh? A ping of guilt pricked at this mind. No, he just did the usual. Then why…
The memory of her big golden eyes filled with clear diamond tears etched itself into him, refusing to let go. He leaned down and gathered the business card from the ground. Tucked away in his pocket it had no chance of being destroyed by the summer drizzle.