Chapter Text
The bell of the harbor rings as the ship pulls into port. Ropes fly over, pulling on the side of the ship as men come up, yelling out foreign greetings and joking with each other under the shining sun, as they go. The sea breeze kisses Tartaglia’s face, lashes lifting as the sight of the harbor tugs at his lips.
The sun beats harsh presses into his skin, like a heavy, wide, hand lying over his nape. It’s completely different from the spindling touch of Snezhnaya’s chilly grasp. The touch leaves him a little restless. It threatens to sink into his haunches and leave him dull with indulgence, but Tartaglia is not so easily pulled beneath the tides of suggestion. If that were true, the abyss would’ve made him their soldier long ago.
Instead, he raises his hand to the wind and touches the sea spray flavoring the humid air. It’s touch is refreshing against his exposed forearms. He has never felt so bare in a nation such as this before. It’s thrilling.
A local man passes Tartaglia with a box, at the same time a fatui recruit beats his hand against his chest and bows his head in respect.
“Lord General, we await your command.” He reports.
Tartaglia glances from the gesture back to the harbor, already distracted by his anticipation to explore. Still, he is a well trained Harbinger.
“Take the luggage to Northland but send someone to the outpost. If you’re seen, don’t be hasty. We’re here on diplomatic grounds.” Tartaglia says with a thinly veiled smile.
The fatui recruit makes no further gestures but he responds, “Yes Lord General.” Before removing himself quietly.
Tartaglia returns to the harbor, taking his feet to the dock and relishing in the sound of the hollow wood beneath his boot.
At last, he is here. For all of his preparation, he is reverent at the very sight of the true nation. He can parse the subtle details of conversation crooning around him, bits and pieces of Liyuean gesture and while not all of it immediately makes sense, most of it Tartaglia understands. His studying paid off, pride fills him at the thought.
The eaves cast hanging shadows as the sun grows tall. Tartaglia stands before Northland Bank with a hand upon its knob. He twists and enters to the sight and sound of familiarity. Snezhnayan influence rises all around him. Standing at the center of the room lies a woman Tartaglia knows the name of but has yet to meet.
“Welcome to Liyue, Master Tartaglia.” Ekaterina salutes.
Tartaglia waves a friendly hand, relieving her of her stiff stance. In Liyue one must do as Liyueans do.
With a polite nod of his head and a smile, Tartaglia greets, “It’s nice to finally meet you, Ekaterina.” He says. “Call me Childe,” he orders, “it’s disarming.”
Ekaterina would heed his command with or without the explanation, but the understanding dawning on her face must make it easier.
“As you say, Master Childe.” This time she does not salute, but she bows her head and rises at the end.
“Good!” He claps, cutting through the tension that a first meeting with a harbinger tends to induce, and turns on his heel, “I’m gonna go spy on the locals, now. Nice meeting you!”
Ekaterina’s lashes lift slowly, “Of course, Lord Harbinger.” She mutters at the sound of the door closing.
Childe takes his feet to the streets, hands drawn behind his back as he goes, lashes flitting across every unfamiliar corner. His back is curved and his shoulders loose but something like caution sits in his jaw as a couple lost in discussion passes him closely.
They are not the only ones sharing the strip of the harbor boardwalk. Childe spares the foreign citizens glances through the corner of his lashes, eyeing each one with an intensity that is easy to miss. The sounds of wind chimes and chatter creates a lazy atmosphere and Childe feels his jaw ease, but even as he passes playing children it does not entirely go away.
“Excuse me!” Someone shouts, a young sounding voice. Childe turns his cheek quickly, “Have you seen our ball?” A young girl asks, little lashes looking up against the bright sun. Her eyes are dark and her skin smooth.
Childe looks across the street with a glance, but he returns to the little girl a little disappointed, “I’m sorry, I haven’t seen your ball.” He says, the foreign words curving under his tongue with a familiar tone he’s spent months practicing.
The young girl’s shoulders drop, “Oh,” she says, sounding sad, “Alright then.”
Childe feels his heart split open.
“I could help you if you’d like.” He offers.
The sight of her hopeful expression makes his chest feel full again.
“Thank you mister!”
“You can call me Childe.” He smiles.
The young girl beams, “Thank you Uncle Childe!”
Childe’s lashes strike wide. Perhaps children are the same wherever you go. He feels an ache at the sight of her little hand pulling for his wrist and tugging him over to her friends. That is how he spends a few minutes of his day looking for a ball for the local kids of Liyue.
When they do find it however, it appears to be trapped in a tree on the edge of the harbor.
“Oh man,” the young girl whines, “how are we ever going to get it down?”
The boy by her side huffs, “I’d get it but I’ll just get scolded again.”
Before anyone can get upset further, Childe interrupts with an easy solution.
“No one will scold me if I get it.” Childe says, hand twitching by his leg as he scopes out how best to tackle the tree.
The kids look at each other before turning to him with their encouragement. Spurred on by little chests full of excitement, Childe reaches for the lowest branch, still too high to touch but he knows how to make it.
He steps back on a measured heel, then with a running head start, leaps for the branch. His hand encloses around the wood, testing the give he presses a heel into the bark of the tree and pulls himself up with a lift of his shoulder. Like that, he finds himself nestled in the heart of the tree with the ball in his hand as prize. The kids cheer for him with excited screams.
“You did it Uncle Childe!” They say.
“Thank you Brother Childe!” They crow.
Childe feels his chest burn with the praise. With an easy hand, he braces the base of the tree and leaps from the high branch, catching himself with a bent knee. As he rises, the praise starts again and the kids come up for the ball in his hand. He tosses it over with a tender expression, smile growing fond at the sight of the young girl’s face.
“Thank you! Thank you!” She beams, before throwing her arms around his waist.
Childe’s lashes strike wide. He hasn’t gotten treatment like this even from the kids of his own nation, all too weary of the title Harbinger to trust speaking to him let alone hugging him. Childe’s throat feels funny as he goes to his knee, resting a large and gentle palm against her head.
“You’re very welcome.” He says, “If you ever need anything, feel free to shout for me at Northland bank.”
Her lips stretch wide, “I’ll be sure to visit!” She promises.
Childe thinks she really might.
Straightening to his full height, he waves the children off and returns to his meandering of Liyue harbor. Peddlers roll out their spiels in sonorous concert with the footsteps of the locals passing by. Childe is listening to the music of the lively town when a name catches his attention. Childe turns his cheek, lashes settling over a peddler.
“This jade holds Rex Lapis’ very countenance!” He churns.
Childe’s lips twist. The locals seem to be a special sort, he observes. Among the chatter however that name comes again, only this time it is not from the mouth of someone selling something.
“How he came to be is currently unknown,” A story teller shouts into the air, “however he descended to Teyvat more than 6000 years ago.” The teller shares a look over the harbor, begging with an open hand for the locals to sit and stay for his story, “After he descended,” he continues with a raised finger, “he lowered the tides and raised Mount Tianheng!”
He is passionate, Childe will give him that, subtly amused by the sight. Open info about Rex Lapis? Alright, he’ll bite.
Childe takes himself closer to the teller’s stage, noticing the tables set for dining. They are empty save for one lone gentleman. A neat and tall back sits. With a reserved grace, he extends a teacup to his lips. He looks local. Childe takes his chances.
“Room for one more?” Childe asks, a polite and affable grin framing his face.
The cheek that turns is smooth and unblemished, dark hair gently rustles as golden eyes peek through long black lashes. Childe blinks, a little stunned at the beauty of this random local. The handsome man lifts a gloved hand, making a welcoming gesture to the open seat beside him.
Childe feels his heart kick as he takes the seat, lashes slanting to that face once more before turning to the story teller upon the short stage. He stands before a privacy screen with a painted depiction of a mountain range Childe’s never seen outside of books. It’s quite a stunning piece, as is the tale the teller begins to weave.
“Deep in the mountains, before Tianheng was Tianheng, he struck the earth with his authority, creating settlements for the people! Thus,” he informs, “the people came to know him as the God of Geo, as he built settlements for the people in the land.”
“Huh,” Childe muses, leaning forward with a knuckle to his cheekbone, “I wonder where the first settlement was.”
“It is in Guili plains.” The handsome gentleman says.
Childe’s lashes strike wide, surprised to hear him speak. His voice is quite nice to hear. He got lucky, Childe recognizes with a slanted glance, roaming an appraising view with his eyes. It seems the locals of liyue must be naturally loose lipped.
“In the Archon war, Guili plains and Dihua marsh were both laid waste to.” The handsome local tells with a cadence that is much more pleasant for story telling than the striking passion the actual teller uses, “That is when the people were moved here, to Liyue Harbor.” He informs casually with a subtle gesture of his gentle palm.
Childe’s lashes follow the motion before returning to the local.
“You know quite a bit about Liyuean history, Mister.” Childe remarks.
“Ah,” the local’s lashes rise from his tea cup, revealing an unblinking amber that strikes Childe as unique, “yes,” he says slowly, “I am a fan of the art of storytelling.” He says with a flick of his lashes to the man still telling on stage.
Subtly, however, those lashes return to Childe and cast him a glance, an appraising glance Childe recognizes, from the top of his head to the edges of his waist and further like the local can see his very toes beneath the table. Childe‘s throat bobs under the weight of his regard.
Childe knows he is clothed properly for the weather of Liyue, but he suddenly feels underdressed beneath the handsome local’s gaze, however approving it may be. Tartaglia is used to large robes of fur and layers, Childe however is diplomatic enough to keep his discomfort to himself, tucked away and hidden like the rest of his motivations.
“Perhaps I should introduce myself.” Childe offers, watching those lashes rise and return to his eyes, meeting unyielding amber, “You can call me Childe, I just came in from the harbor.”
The local’s expression shifts as if that registers as something interesting to him.
“I see, then welcome to Liyue.” He says, gentle voice stoic and inviting.
He speaks with a slow cadence, like perhaps each word is important or like he is used to being listened to, like his words have always held the attention of others. Childe is certainly paying him attention, but it’s not for that cadence. He’s pretty, suspiciously pretty, pretty in a way that means he probably holds authority of some kind. Childe just isn’t certain which kind, yet.
“Thank you.” Childe smiles, eyes squinting delicately beneath the weight of his polite expression.
Childe expects that to be the end of his interaction with the handsome local, at least for now, until Childe can find an excuse to start a new conversation with him, but surprisingly the local does it himself.
“How do you enjoy the harbor so far?” He asks, as if he’s truly interested in hearing Childe’s answer.
Childe isn’t used to such sincerity truthfully, but a friendly local isn’t a challenge Childe can’t rise to.
“I think it’s pretty peaceful.” The local nods his head at the word, seemingly liking the description. “It’s also friendly.” Childe adds, eyes sparking with a glint.
The local holds eye contact with him in a way that could be solely social politeness but it also registers as interest. Childe is certain it’s simply casual, purely for their topic, but that’s how he recognizes when the local doesn’t understand his double meaning. Childe doesn’t let it get to him, he was just feeling him out anyway.
He thought he’d be the receptive type, mystically aware and such, but he seems to take things at face value. It’s rather honest. Childe can only compare it to the other honest people he knows in his life, which are all children. But the thought of this local with a face of wisdom having a childlike view of the world is so funny and entirely unlikely that he fights back a suspicious grin at the very thought.
Still, the sentiment is a little cute and that just makes Childe more curious. He wonders what kind of peaceful life you’d have to lead to retain such a world view. Or, it could be suspicious. How adept do you have to be at hiding your intuition to be able to mask your own perceptiveness? Childe’s neck bristles at the thought.
“Those are apt descriptors of the harbor.” The local remarks.
There’s something to that statement, an opening Childe recognizes in a way one could only recognize if you’ve said words like it before. Childe’s eyes consider the local with his own weighty regard.
“How would you describe the harbor?” Childe asks, knuckle shifting across his face as he subtly turns his body towards the local, posture open and receptive, disarmingly friendly.
Those amber eyes glint. Ah, gotcha, Childe thinks. It is clear the local was aching to be asked this question, however subtle his expressions may be. Ever since joining the fatui Childe has become adept at the art of reading between the lines.
The local’s lashes turn to his lap before shifting out over the edge of Liyue harbor. The coast line shines like crystal, gentle waves rolling against the boats. People pass by, some hanging onto each other, others merely walking side by side. It truly is a peaceful sight. But to the local, he wonders if his opinion will be subtly different.
“Liyue harbor is indeed leisurely.” He says, then he returns to Childe, “I apologize if you were expecting a better opinion. I am afraid my answer is not quite different from yours.”
Childe’s lip twitches, “You don’t need to apologize,” he says, “what you say is true. Liyue harbor really does seem to have its own pace.” Childe waves an open hand, “If anything I take it as a compliment that I was able to come to the same opinion as a local.” He uses that hand to make a subtle gesture towards the local as he refers to him.
That glint returns, the one that Childe thinks means the man likes whatever Childe has said. That’s good, he only used his most appeasing words specifically for this reaction. Still, he feels a little rewarded by the sight of the man’s peace of mind.
His lips rest into a neat line, a subtle stretch that looks like a smile. His long black lashes kiss his unblemished cheeks, face practically carved from stone. He is exceedingly pretty. That must be why Childe can’t take his eyes off of him.
“You are kind.” The local says.
For a moment Childe almost takes him for his word simply because of how certain he sounds, before remembering they are strangers to each other and his opinion should not overrule Childe’s own. Still, the sentiment makes him feel good, that he can admit.
Unsure how to continue after that, Childe returns his attention to the story teller but he’s not as focused as he should be. He listens to the story of the martial god, Rex Lapis, but at the same time, he is busy observing the gentle sipping of the local sitting beside him.
Every so often, he reaches for his cup with a gloved hand, gently lifting its lip to his mouth where he purses a soft blow to the tea as if by habit before following it back with a subtle sip. His lashes sink across his cheeks as he pulls the tea down his throat. Childe’s own lashes settle on the bob of his adam’s apple. Passionately, the storyteller continues.
The sun presses its hot hand against Childe’s back as it spills over the edges of the establishment’s roof. The wind chimes grow still as noon crescendos but the sound of diners opening sings through the courtyard. Now that he thinks about it, he is getting hungry. Perhaps he should look for something to eat.
The story reaches a lapse as the teller engages in a slightly heated conversation with someone. Childe takes that as his cue to leave. He stands but before he goes, he turns to the local by his side.
“By the way,” he says, watching those lashes lift and turn to him, “I never caught your name.”
“Ah,” those lashes blink slowly, “yes, you may call me Zhongli.” He bows his head with grace, “It was nice to meet you, Childe.”
It sounds like he might mean it but Childe is certain that sincere tone is simply ingrained in him. He shouldn’t take it so seriously. Still, part of him wants to. Unfortunately it’s that greedy part that he decides not to listen to. In addition, the sound of his name on the local’s tongue causes an interesting reaction that Childe isn’t quite ready to digest.
Instead he says, “It was nice to meet you too, Zhongli.” Before he ventures off in search of local delicacies.
He doesn’t actually expect to run into him again, but it seems there are only so many places you can go for something to eat in the harbor.
“Well if it isn’t mister Zhongli.” Childe greets, polite smile permanently stuck on his face.
Zhongli’s lashes lift, gentle countenance shifting as he regards him.
“Ah, mister Childe.” He bows his neck in subtle gesture.
“I take it this is the best spot to eat?” Childe says, lashes lifting around the slotted seats where it looks like the whole town has gathered.
Zhongli’s lips twitch, “There are quite a few places that hold that title along the harbor,” he says with that gentle cadence of his, “but Wanmin’s is my favorite.” He admits.
Childe feels like he’s being let in on a secret. It’s a little thrilling.
“Mind if I join you?” Childe ventures, “Perhaps I could borrow your local opinion.”
Zhongli smiles enigmatically, “I’d be most willing.”
Childe takes a seat.
“Thank you.”
A young girl comes to take their order. Childe notices her vision before he notices the way she regards Zhongli.
“And what will it be today, Mister Zhongli?” She asks, voice pleasant and casual with friendliness.
“Hm, something easy for a foreigner to try, perhaps some jade parcels, ah, bamboo shoot soup might pair nicely as it is quite chilly out.”
Childe’s lashes stutter. Chilly? Ah, locals. Still, he surrenders to the local’s good opinion with little resistance.
“Alright! That’ll be out shortly,” she says, clipboard tucked to her chest, then she glances at Childe, “might I ask the name of your foreigner friend?” She asks Zhongli, “I’d hate to miss the name of a returning customer.”
Childe’s lip twitches. He can appreciate subtle confidence.
“You can call me Childe.” He offers, “I just came in to the harbor today.”
Her lashes settle on him with a friendly look, “Ah, I see! Welcome to Liyue mister Childe!”
“Thank you for the warm welcome.” He smiles back.
She leaves shortly after, peeling around a corner until she’s gone from view. Childe returns his lashes to Zhongli who sits with a stoic poise. Childe doesn’t know how he can sit up so straight and for so long, he’s already begun to slouch against his knuckle over the table again. Perhaps the heat is weighing down on him but he’s never been the type to be comfortable with sitting straight like that.
“You mentioned it was chilly today.” Childe begins, watching those amber eyes turn to him, “does it tend to get hotter than this?” He tugs a finger around the edge of his collar, feeling his perspiration beginning to bead already.
Zhongli’s lashes settle on the motion, tracing his neck before lifting to his eyes. Childe spies something like amusement linger in them, a barely there expression before it’s gone.
“Perhaps.” He says ambiguously.
Huh.
Childe wipes a hand over his cheek, subtly hiding the twitch of his stretching lips. Cute, Childe thinks, real cute. Guess he’ll have to resign himself to suffering the heat for this assignment, but he doesn’t think he’ll be suffering too badly if he keeps running into this local. He’s charming, Childe will give him that.
“Say, you know quite a bit about Liyuean history.” Childe begins.
“A keen observation.” Zhongli remarks.
Childe’s lip twitches, “What can you tell me about Rex Lapis? I’m curious, as a foreigner, what this nation’s archon is like.”
Zhongli takes a moment to consider the question, before he addresses it.
Slowly, his lips part, “He is the lord of Geo, descriptions of him say he is, well, ineffable.”
Ineffable, Childe finds it hard to believe that anything is impossible to describe but perhaps Mister Zhongli just lacks the words. Or, Childe thinks, surmising from what he spies in this strange local, perhaps he knows too much to express simply. If that’s the case then sticking around him might be a worthwhile effort.
While Childe considers how to make his next question not sound suspicious, their food arrives.
The table is quickly filled with food Childe’s never seen before. The aroma is refreshing and savory both. He feels immediately curious.
To be polite, Childe pays close attention to the way Mister Zhongli prepares his plate. He places his fingers between two sticks and holds a dumpling through them with ease. It looks easy, and Childe’s always been quick with a weapon so he doesn’t hesitate to try himself.
He is sorely embarrassed by the reality against his expectations. For some reason, despite holding them in a way that he’s pretty sure is correct, he can’t manage to pick anything up. He refuses to falter after the first try though, so he attempts again. This attempt manages to catch Mister Zhongli’s attention.
Those black lashes fix on his hand and fall to the broken dumpling whose filling has begun to spill. All at once, Childe feels flush with a new heat. Shame fills him. This is not a good first impression.
Childe can’t get himself to look at Zhongli, fearing the face of amusement or judgement of any kind. He also can’t bring himself to ask for guidance, this should be easy, Childe is quick with these things. A silence prevails as Childe attempts again, only to fail again.
Mister Zhongli’s lips part slowly, “I could help if you would like.”
His voice holds that same gentle cadence. It is perhaps because of that voice that Childe doesn’t blanche at the offer. For the sake of diplomacy, Childe swallows both his pride and his embarrassed expression for a smile.
“Sure!”
Zhongli’s expression is not one of arrogance or amusement, it is but a gentle focus as he leans over the short distance between them and reaches for Childe’s hand. Childe doesn’t startle but he recognizes the impulse. He takes control by delivering his useless hand to Zhongli and allowing him to place his fingers where they need to go. Then, he leans back and picks up his own chopsticks. Silently, he demonstrates picking up a dumpling and setting it on Childe’s plate.
Childe tightens his grip on his chopsticks, and like he saw, attempts to pick up the dumpling. With this new finger position it feels somehow more difficult, he can’t control his strength at all, but he does manage to pick it up this time and hold it. Only, sadly, the filling has spilled onto his plate.
“Ah,” Mister Zhongli observes. Childe flushes. Before Childe can assume what that means, Zhongli says, “It appears this isn’t a matter of dexterity but of control.”
Childe blinks.
Zhongli continues, “It requires a more delicate touch than that I’m afraid. Might I show you?”
Slowly, Childe nods.
That hand comes for him again, only this time it embraces his grip and begs him to grow gentle. This time, Zhongli follows him with the motion. He picks up the filling and Childe marvels as it doesn’t spill. It really is a delicate touch, he observes. He can hardly feel any pressure from Zhongli’s hand, the only affirmation of his presence is a steadying touch and the heat of his body.
Success achieved, Zhongli returns to his side of the table. He makes a silent gesture for Childe to try on his own. Without Zhongli’s hand it is less stable and Childe flexes reflexively, nearly spilling the new dumpling again, but he remembers how gentle Zhongli’s touch was. He does his best to imitate it.
Success is achieved yet again, and this time Childe did it all on his own. A newfound sense of pride fills him, the taste of satisfaction that Childe has learned to reach for throughout his life, only this time he didn’t have to nearly kill himself to reach it. Huh. So this is what power feels like, Childe thinks, almost comically.
He can’t help the stretch of his lips, is entirely unaware of what expression he could possibly be making, he’s too distracted by what he feels and the look of it mirrored on Zhongli’s face. He himself looks proud of Childe, with that gentle smile of his, but it’s dangerous to assume something like that. Still, for a moment, Childe feels caught by the idea, swept up by the excitement of a new experience that he’s conquered. He completely forgets he didn’t come here to master the way of chopsticks but to defeat a martial god.
Childe sobers. That’s right, there is no such thing as satisfaction til he achieves that. This is simply a mere stepping stone. To marvel at such a thing is a waste of energy. Still, the thought doesn’t erase the smile from him entirely. Especially when he takes a successful bite.
Wow, that’s unlike anything he’s ever tasted before.
“I’m glad you seem to like it,” Mister Zhongli smiles, “your stay will be much more enjoyable if you have the taste for things like this.”
Childe blinks, “Was I so obvious?” He laughs, playing for coy.
Zhongli merely sips from his cup, taking a quiet pause before he says, “I just have a sense for these things.”
Childe’s heart kicks. Huh. So it’s not that Childe is easy to read but that Mister Zhongli is perceptive, is that it? Subtly pleased, Childe ducks his head. When his chin rises, his lashes strike wide, getting stuck on a sight before he can remind himself to look away.
Oh that’s… Zhongli’s tongue pulls across his bottom lip, cleaning the remnants of his last bite with subtle gesture.
Childe knows better than to let himself indulge in unnecessary fantasies, though this is new. While Childe is no stranger to intrusive thoughts, this attention is something different, almost novel. Childe’s never spared so much time considering things like this before, but the sight of Zhongli appreciating his food is heady and distracting.
Shit, if Childe isn’t careful he might get distracted by this local. That’s hardly becoming for a Harbinger of his caliber and station. He’s better than this. Still, his lashes slant back to the sight. There shouldn’t be any harm in light observations. It’s part of the job after all, spying on the locals.
They finish their meal without further ceremony and Childe is not caught with his appreciative glances. By the time they’ve finished, the sun is golden and the sky is tinted.
Xiangling approaches with a smile, “Everything good over here?”
“Ah, Yes, delightful.” Zhongli praises.
Xiangling nods, “Good, and our foreign friend?”
Childe’s lip tilts, “Better than I expected.”
Xiangling’s eyes glint, “So I’ve earned a returnee then.”
“Consider me a fan.”
Xiangling practically beams but before her smile can get too wide she coughs politely, “Good, shall I bring you two the check?”
“Ah yes,” Zhongli interjects, “put it on my tab.”
Childe raises a hand, “That’s alright, I can cover it.”
Zhongli’s eyes turn to him, and that stare is something heady, as if cataloguing his expression to check that Childe is certain. At the sight of Childe taking out a bag of mora and handing it to Xiangling, he slowly accepts.
“Very well then.” He allows.
Childe somehow feels rewarded for being able to pay for his meal. Odd.
The two part from the restaurant, coming around the fountain where they turn to each other to split off.
“Thank you for your time today, I feel like I know Liyue a little better now thanks to you.” Childe smiles.
“You’re welcome,” Zhongli nods, “and thank you for the company, you are quite companionable.”
Childe blinks. Well that’s a new one.
He ducks his head, “If you say.”
Zhongli’s stare is unyielding, “I do.”
Flustered, Childe swallows, but he is quick to don his mask of bravado. “Thank you.”
With that, they leave each other. Childe heads down the road toward northland and the handsome local Zhongli fades into the distance of the harbor. With this, Childe is spared his sanity. From now on he resolves to focus slowly on Rex lapis and not get distracted from the assignment.