Archive of Our Own ^beta

“So,” Lumine starts conversationally, leaning over to peer in Childe’s cup, where several yellow and orange chrysanthemum petals innocently lay, “why exactly are you throwing up flowers?”

“It adds a nice floral note to my tea,” Childe answers pleasantly. He sniffles with as much dignity as he can muster, after nearly hacking his lungs up in front of Lumine and Paimon. “You should try it sometime. I recommend chamomile.”

Lumine stares at Childe, then shifts her gaze to instead stare incredulously at Childe’s desk, where several other chrysanthemum petals were splattered wetly across the polished mahogany surface, a stark contrast to the expensive, deep-red wood. Her eyes slowly track across Childe’s office, no doubt eyeing the petals from recent bouts of coughing fits that are haphazardly littered on the hardwood floor. It probably doesn’t help that his office positively reeks of chrysanthemum. Not that he can smell it anymore, given he has been living in a chrysanthemum abyss for the last month.

In fairness to Childe, it’s not like he was expecting guests. Lumine and Paimon had somehow managed to barge into his office without so much as a warning from Ekaterina or any of the other staff at Northland Bank, startling him into a coughing fit so intense he saw stars.

Lumine lets out a noise of disgust. “Get serious. This can’t be normal.” She pauses. “Is it normal?”

Before Childe can respond that yes, it is totally normal, Lumine, welcome to Teyvat where everything is sunshine and rainbows and the people projectile vomit flowers, Paimon interjects, “It’s not normal, but it’s not rare. Lumine, have you heard of the Hanahaki before?”

“Hanahaki?”

To Childe’s great despair, Paimon puffs out her chest, clearly about to launch into an explanation. “Let Paimon, Teyvat’s finest travel guide, explain! Hanahaki occurs in people who are deeply in love, but their love is unreciprocated. Hanahaki causes its victims to cough up flowers and suffer allergy-like symptoms, and,” she pauses, rubbing her little chin thoughtfully, “… yeah, that’s basically it.”

Childe feels his face flush, as Lumine turns to fix him with a highly unimpressed look. “You’re so in love with someone that you’re throwing up flowers? What are you, the swooning protagonist of some shitty romance novel?”

“Kick me while I’m down, will you?” Childe complains. “It’s not like I asked for this.”

“So what, you’re just going to cough up flowers until the day you die?”

“Not if I can help it -”

“He’s going to keep coughing up flowers until he falls out of love, or until his feelings are reciprocated,” Teyvat’s finest travel guide interrupts yet again. Thanks for nothing, Paimon. “Or until he dies.”

Lumine eyes Childe.

Childe huffs. “This is a mild annoyance, at worst, alright? I’m sure these stupid chrysanthemums will go away sooner rather than later -”

“Seriously? You even know the type of flower you’ve been hacking up?”

Childe throws his hands up in exasperation. “Okay! Why are you two even here, other than to make fun of me?”

Letting go of the topic of Childe’s Hanahaki for the moment, Lumine drops herself into one of the plush chairs across from Childe’s desk. “We’re leaving for Inazuma in the next couple days,” she announces with little fanfare, with Paimon bobbing her head in agreement next to Lumine.

“You came to say bye to me before leaving?” Childe’s pleasantly surprised - since the day they had met, Lumine hasn’t been shy about her misgivings about the Fatui. Though, perhaps her waspishness was warranted, given she had to help drop the Jade Chamber on a giant vengeful sea god that Childe had unleashed, right after she walloped Childe himself inside the Golden House.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Lumine responds immediately. “It’s just that you’ve been looking a little pathetic since that fight with the ruin guards with Teucer, so …”

“So we wanted to make sure you’re okay!” Paimon finishes cheerily.

Childe is almost moved by the display of concern, until Lumine says, “But it seems like you’re just under the weather because of this unrequited love, so I guess our worry was unwarranted.”

Ugh. “You don’t have to emphasize the ‘unrequited’ part quite so much, thanks,” he grumbles, folding his arms over his chest. “Anyways, can we not talk about this anymore? My pride can only take so much.”

“Fine,” Lumine acquiesces, thankfully appearing to lose interest in Childe’s flowery plight. “Anyways, we managed to figure out a way to get into Inazuma. Our boat is leaving the day after, so we’re doing the rounds before we get going.”

“I heard Inazuma wasn’t open to visitors for the time being. How’d you manage that?” Childe clamps onto the change of topic gladly. The embarrassment he suffered at the hands of La Signora a few weeks previous - finding out he was nothing but a pawn in the machinations of La Signora and Zhongli throughout the two whole years he had spent in Liyue, that the Zhongli he had considered one of his closest friends in Liyue was none other than one Morax, who had been manipulating Childe as long as he had known him - well, it still smarts. Then he woke up the morning after with a mouthful of chrysanthemum petals, which really was the shit cherry on top of the shit pie.

So yeah, he doesn’t want to talk about it.

Lumine shrugs. “It’s not that refined of an approach. We found someone who’s willing to take us to Inazuma via boat, so we’re going.”

“Someone’s willing to brave the thunderstorms?” Childe frowns. He is fairly certain that if Inazuma’s Archon meant to keep people out, the thunderstorms plaguing the seas surrounding Inazuma would be nigh impenetrable. “Aren’t those meant to be pretty impossible to weather?”

“Beidou doesn’t seem to think they’ll be an issue!” Paimon answers enthusiastically, zipping around Lumine’s head. “Though, Lumine did have to fight in a tournament for Beidou to agree to give us the ride …”

Childe perks up at the mention of a fight. Paimon, no doubt aware of Childe’s love for all things fighting-related, launches into an explanation of how exactly Lumine had managed to beat every challenger into the ground even without using any elemental powers (“So, Lumine hits him with a one-two, and then Rongshi goes bwaaah!, and Paimon is of course cheering Lumine on from the sidelines -”). Childe nods along, not even a little surprised. He’d seen Lumine’s fighting prowess first hand, after all.

“And so, as a prize,” Paimon concludes, wagging a finger in the air like a conductor as she tells her story, “Beidou is going to take us to Inazuma!”

Childe laughs. Seems awfully straightforward. “Just like that?”

“Just like that!” Paimon confirms. “Though, Paimon isn’t sure how she plans to get through the thunderstorms …”

“Maybe Captain Beidou has some special sailing techniques?” Childe speculates.

“Brute force, probably?” Lumine suggests.

“Regardless,” Childe muses, “seems like reaching Inazuma is far more achievable than I was expecting.” Where there’s a will, there’s a way, he supposes.

Paimon huffs, crossing her arms in righteous indignation. “Right! Zhongli made it sound like it was going to be much harder to get in - uh, are you alright?”

At the sound of Zhongli’s name, Childe’s throat itched horribly, and his eyes teared up with the effort to hold in the petals that were no doubt wiggling their nefarious little way up his windpipe. Ugh. Just when he thought they were over this whole Hanahaki business. “Just peachy, thanks,” he manages after a brief moment, hoarsely.

Paimon eyes him dubiously, but shrugs it off quickly. “Anyways, we were under the impression it was going to be near impossible to get into Inazuma! That Zhongli -”

This time, Childe couldn’t hold it in. He grabs his designated flower-pail (with the words “DO NOT TOUCH” emblazoned boldly across its side) from under his desk and coughs, the force racking his entire body. And then a whole goddamn flower shoots into the pail, landing neatly on top of the thin layer of petals that had already made their home there.

“Excuse me,” he says cheerily, wiping the tears out of his eyes. Lumine and Paimon are staring at him. “Keep going.”

“Um, okay,” Lumine says. “So, about Zhongli.”

Childe hiccups.

There is a beat of silence.

“Childe,” Lumine says, slowly, comprehension dawning on her face. “You’re not telling me that the person you’re in an unrequited love with is Zhongli, are you?”

Childes comes this close to denying it, but from the look on Lumine’s face, she wouldn’t believe him anyways. “Like I said, you don’t need to repeat the unrequited part,” he grumbles, defeated.

“What!” Paimon shrieks. Childe plops his face into his hands. “But - but - unrequited?!”

“Are you guys doing this on purpose?” he says.

He catches Paimon and Lumine sharing a look. Apparently they reach some sort of unsaid understanding, because Lumine starts, cautiously, as if measuring her words, “Are you sure it’s unrequited?”

“I’d say it's obvious,” Childe grumbles. “Kind of hard to misinterpret the situation when he monologued for fifteen minutes about exactly how he conspired with my coworker and manipulated me for two years for his own ends.”

Lumine and Paimon share another bewildered look. “When you put it that way …” Lumine concedes. However, the confused scrunched up expression she was sporting stayed the same. “It’s just, I thought … well, I always thought it was the other way around.”

“Yeah!” Paimon nods vigorously. “Zhongli was always talking about how he couldn’t stay because he had to bring you lunch, or about how he had bought some herbal tea or another for you that would be rejuvenating after a hard day at work, or, or, how he wanted to buy this or that on top of all the things we already bought for the Rite of Parting because he thought you would like it -”

Childe snorts. “You guys realize all that stuff ended up on my tab, right? Once he brought me these chopsticks, ‘as a gift’, he says. Next day I find an invoice sitting on my desk for 128,000 mora.” He pauses for emphasis, to really let it sink in. “For chopsticks.”

Paimon gasps in horror. “128,000 mora! Were they made of gold?”

Lumine is still sporting a mildly dubious look. “I don’t know,” she says, shaking her head, “I just don’t think someone can fake all that …”

“What does a guy have to do to convince someone that his unrequited feelings are, in fact, unrequited?” Childe jokes half-heartedly. He brushes off a stray petal that clung stubbornly to his upper lip. “I appreciate the thought, but there’s no need to make me feel better about this whole thing, you know. I’ve already come to terms with it.”

Truthfully, pre-Osial, he might have agreed with Lumine. Every time Zhongli turned to him, with a smile, small and fond, Childe had allowed himself to believe that maybe, just maybe, Zhongli reserved his little touches, the doting, the private moments where Zhongli would explain the history of the Guyun Stone Forest, as the pair leaned against the wooden railing of one of the many raised pavilions in the city, the muted sounds of bustling Liyue a backdrop to Zhongli’s smooth, grounding voice, for Childe alone.

Then it turns out Zhongli is none other than Morax, oldest of the Seven, and in league with La Signora, of all people. Just the thought of the Eighth's smug face makes Childe want to vomit.

“Have you?” Lumine’s dry tone comes back in full force.

“Have I what?”

“Come to terms with it?” Lumine folds her arms over her chest primly. “If you’ve come to terms with it, then why are you still loitering around in Liyue?”

Childe splutters indignantly. “Wh - loitering?!”

“That’s a good point!” Paimon gasps, zooming in close to point at Childe accusingly. “Why are you still in Liyue? Don’t you have evil, Fatui-y things to do?”

Childe bats Paimon away. “As a matter of fact, I do not,” he says stiffly, as Paimon twirls away, affronted, “I haven’t received any orders from Zapolyarny Palace, so.” He shrugs as nonchalantly as he can. “I don’t have anywhere else to be for the time being.”

He’s not lying. Her Majesty hasn’t sent any word, and Childe has chosen to take that to mean that he’s free to do as he pleases. Including sulking in Liyue while he tries to figure out how to stop regurgitating flowers.

“Weren’t you supposed to go back to Snezhnaya?” Lumine persists, Paimon nodding sagely next to her. “I thought La Signora left ages ago.”

“I can’t go back to Snezhnaya!” Childe shudders viscerally. Sure, that had been the plan initially, but … “The moment anyone brings up what happened in Liyue, I’ll start coughing up these stupid flowers, and then the other Harbingers will eat me alive. And then what do I tell Her Majesty? She’ll think that my loyalties have been divided. That’s treason, Lumine.”

Paimon circles behind Lumine, eyes wide in horror, as if she expects the Tsaritsa to materialize out of thin air and evaporate her, or something. “Oh no,” she squeaks nervously, huddling against Lumine’s back, “Paimon doesn’t even want to imagine what the Fatui would do …”

Unfortunately, Lumine is less sympathetic. “Right,” Lumine says dubiously, “And that is the only reason you haven’t left Liyue.”

“Yep.”

“And not because you’re sticking around for a certain someone.”

“Lumine, please,” he says. “Believe me, I’m happy to leave. I just haven’t figured out where to go from here.”

Lumine eyes him.

Childe sighs. “I don’t think the Qixing will tolerate my presence in Liyue much longer anyways. Pretty sure I have long overstayed my welcome.”

Lumine hums her agreement. “Fair enough. Guess you’ll have to figure out where to go sooner rather than later, on top of figuring out how to stop vomiting flowers on people.” She smirks. “Good luck, I guess.”

He sighs again, this time with feeling. “Don’t worry, I’ll figure something out.”

True to Childe’s prediction, the Millileth appear at Northland Bank a mere day later, handing over a missive from the Qixing.

(“The Tianquan requests your presence at Yuehai Pavilion at half past ten the following day.” Yeah, yeah. No points for guessing what Ningguang could possibly want from him.)

And so, obediently, Childe finds himself seated in front of Ningguang the next day, her aides lined up neatly along the walls of her expansive office in Yuehai Pavilion, the atmosphere tense and unwelcoming, glares boring directly into the back of Childe’s head. Well, given the word on the street that has been circulating is that Childe was the big bad who had released Osial (true) and murdered Rex Lapis (decidedly not true, considering Rex Lapis has been living it up since Childe last saw him), it was hardly a surprise that he would be met with hostility from all sides.

Childe grits his teeth and smiles.

“Lady Ningguang,” he greets, as politely and saccharine as he could manage. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“The Snezhnayan diplomat,” she responds coolly. “Welcome.”

The Tianquan is seated in an impressive ornate armchair, with intricate detailing painstakingly hand carved into the armrests and wide wooden backing, the dark rosewood no doubt sourced from first-class merchants. Dragons snaked up the length of each leg, twining into tight loops, their jaws swinging wide open wordlessly. Ningguang is lounging against a plush silk cushion, one arm folded over her waist, the other idly twirling her silver and gold pipe between her fingers.

In contrast, Childe is given a rickety old chair that squeaks any time he dares to shift his weight.

(He can’t help but laugh a little, imagining Ningguang’s secretaries scurrying around the pavilion the night before, frantically trying to find the chair that would cause the Snezhnayan diplomat the most discomfort, as if that would somehow convince him to leave Liyue Harbour.)

“I am certain that it will come to no surprise to you that I have called you here today to discuss your continued stay in Liyue Harbour,” she continues, without waiting for a response. Right to business, apparently. And not even a little pretense that she wants Childe gone, yesterday. “Mr. Diplomat, you are surely aware of public perception of your and your fellow Fatuus’ recent … activities, in Liyue. I am merely acting in your best interests when I suggest that you return home at your earliest convenience.”

What a diplomatic way of saying, ‘please get out of Liyue, thanks’. Childe nearly rolls his eyes. “As you are aware, Lady Ningguang, the Fatui deny any involvement in the recent misfortunes of Liyue,” he recites, straight from his PR handbook and lying right through his teeth. “We are of course sympathetic to Liyue for the trials it has endured in the prior months.”

“I know what I saw, on the Jade Chamber the night Osial was released,” Ningguang responds, tone positively icy. “Regardless, the citizens of Liyue do not take kindly to the loss of our Archon. Though we, the Qixing, respect the Fatui’s official position on the matter, and have accordingly announced that Rex Lapis’ passing has no connection with the Fatui, the public have passed their own judgment already on who they believe is responsible.”

No thanks to you! The Qixing might have their official narrative, but Childe was under no illusions as to who exactly was responsible for the rumours regarding Rex Lapis’ death. At the very least, Ningguang has certainly not been shy about using such rumours to browbeat concessions out of the Fatui and other Snezhnayan diplomats.

Childe feels his throat start to itch insistently again. He ignores the irritation and pushes through. “I appreciate your concern, Lady Ningguang,” he demures. “Though we regret the passing of Rex Lapis, and - ugh, pardon me -”

He quickly turns his head to the side, hiding his cough into his sleeve. Please no petals, please no petals -

To Childe’s relief, his sleeve comes away empty. “As I was saying, though we understand the implications of public perception of the Fatui’s involvement, given our denial of the rumours surrounding Rex Lapis’ death, urk -”

Archons, Hanahaki is absolutely relentless. Childe’s hands fly to his face instinctively as he chokes on chrysanthemum flowers that shoot up his windpipe. Panicking, he presses his hands against his lips in a desperate bid to keep the cursed petals from flying onto Ningguang’s desk for her and her staff to gawk at.

Through his teary eyelashes, he can already see Ningguang beginning to frown, her lips moving (probably asking if he was quite alright - which he is, unfortunately, very decidedly not). If he had the capacity to look around, he is certain that the staff would either be (a) whispering among themselves (“Is the diplomat ill? This must be karmic retribution for all that he has done -”), or (b) awkwardly shifting as they wait for Childe to stop hacking up his organs.

How mortifying. He swears, he’ll eat these goddamn flowers if he has to -

With a particularly potent wheeze, a single yellow petal shoots out from between Childe’s fingers.

There is a very pregnant pause. Ningguang’s eyebrows have shot up so high they may as well have disappeared into her hairline.

Childe almost wishes the Abyss would open up the ground from beneath him and suck him back in. Maybe he could find Skirk and she can beat the Hanahaki out of him.

(Who was he kidding. Skirk would probably just laugh him out of the Abyss.)

This line of discussion is too dangerous - any more talk about Zhongli, and Childe may as well just drown in flowers (and embarrassment). Trying his best to salvage the situation, even as Ningguang shifts her shrewd gaze from the damning petal to Childe’s face, no doubt piecing together the situation in her mind, he pulls himself together as best he can in the circumstances and says hastily, “In any case, Lady Ningguang, we will set sail from Liyue as soon as we have received our orders from Zapolyarny Palace.”

Ningguang’s eyes narrow. “And when might that be?”

“Unfortunately, I have little visibility on Her Majesty’s plans,” he says unhelpfully. “It may be as soon as this afternoon, or it may be weeks from now.”

“That is quite the vast timeline, Mr. Diplomat,” Ningguang remarks contemptuously.

'I know!!' he thinks, frustrated. No one wants the Tsaritsa to hurry up and give her orders more than Childe himself. And frankly, Her Majesty’s silence is beginning to become unnerving. “I appreciate that, Lady Ningguang, but unfortunately I am unable to provide a more concrete timeframe.”

“And you are unable to return to Sneznaya as you await your orders?”

“I …” How exactly is he supposed to express that he will probably be tried for treason the moment he coughs up another stupid petal, on account of being in love with Liyue’s allegedly deceased Archon? That is one conversation he is not ready to have now. Or ever. “I am unable to, at the moment,” he finishes lamely.

Ningguang eyes him incredulously.

'Yeah, that seems about right,' Childe thinks tiredly.

Thankfully, Ningguang chooses not to press. Whether she senses that Childe is unwilling or unable to explain, or she just simply does not care, is not clear to Childe. “Remember that the citizens of Liyue can only tolerate who they perceive as the murderer of Rex Lapis on our shores for so long,” Ningguang says.

“Yes, I understand,” Childe agrees impatiently. Why’d she have to go and bring up Rex Lapis again? Archons, she was really milking this narrative for her audience. “We will depart once -” he breaks off, the coughs rising unbidden, deeper than the last.

Ningguang flicks her wrist, and a secretary hurries to her side, clutching a stack of thin tissue paper sheets. Childe nabs one and holds it to his mouth - not a moment too soon, as he feels a series of petals fight their way up his throat. The coughs rack his body (he doesn’t even want to think about what a pathetic sight he makes - the Harbinger who apparently terrorized Liyue, coughing up his entire lungs in front of the Tianquan and her closest aides), as he desperately tries to contain the petals to the tissue.

When, at last, the coughs subside, he quickly crumples the tissue, petals and all, into his fist and shoves it in his pocket as fast as humanly possible.

He doesn’t love the way Ningguang’s eyes track his movement.

“It appears you are unwell,” Ningguang says, in the greatest understatement of the century. “I believe I have made my point, in any case, so let us conclude here for today.”

She has chosen to take pity on him, though he isn’t quite sure if he should be happy about it. “Thank you, Lady Ningguang,” Childe mumbles, making to rise from his chair.

“Oh, and Master Childe?”

“Yes, Lady Ningguang?” Childe answers tiredly. He just wants to go back to his apartment and lick his wounds.

“If you have unfinished business here in Liyue, it may be prudent for you to take this time before your departure to resolve such business,” she says. Her eyes flicker to Childe’s pocket, where the petals lay crushed inside the tissue. The corner of her mouth lilts upwards. “Lest you depart with regrets.”

Childe’s face flames. And here he was, thinking that Ningguang would gracefully allow Childe to wallow in his shame in peace. Not to mention her implicit acceptance that there would be some time before Childe would leave Liyue. Was his affliction with Hanahaki so pathetic that even the Tianquan was willing to give him allowances?

“Thank you, Lady Ningguang,” he says, lowering his head, willing desperately for the flush to subside. Not a day passes where he doesn’t curse how easily the colour shows on his pale skin. “I will consider your advice.”

“See that you do.” She rises, a clear indication that the discussion is over. However, as she sweeps past Childe, her aides rushing to clear the way and open the door for her, she leans over slightly, and murmurs, “Though really, Rex Lapis?”

Even if Ningguang has implied that she will permit Childe to stay in Liyue for a little while longer to resolve his Zhongli-shaped problem, Childe is also, unfortunately, at a bit of loss as to how to get rid of this flowery affliction.

In a perfect world, he would be allowed to just wallow in his misery in peace, and everyone would stop reminding him of Zhongli’s existence. Perhaps it was wishful thinking, but Childe has to believe that with a bit of distance, he will just … forget his feelings, and this will be a very short misguided period of his life that he can just file away in the deepest, darkest depths of his memory. But unfortunately, this is Liyue - he can’t go anywhere without some sort of reminder of Zhongli, be it the ports where Childe had taken many a walk with Zhongli, as Zhongli waxed lyrical about some piece of historical trivia or another, or the various Rex Lapis themed memorabilia that littered various merchants’ stalls.

(Childe had once accidentally unearthed the dragon-and-phoenix chopsticks Zhongli had gifted him once upon a time from a mountain of untouched paperwork. That had sent him into a coughing fit so long that Andrei poked his head through the door just to give Childe a pitying look.

Childe has since banished the chopsticks to the depths of his drawers, for his own safety.)

In any case, until Childe receives his long-awaited missive from Zapolyarny Palace as to his next mission, it appears he is stuck living amongst the never-ending reminders of Zhongli’s existence.

It also didn’t help that Zhongli had recently taken to frequently visiting Northland Bank to ask after Childe’s whereabouts.

“Tell him I’m out,” he hisses at Ekaterina for what has to be the umpteenth time that week.

Not like Childe can tell through her mask, but he is fairly certain she rolls her eyes at him. “I don’t think he believes me anymore, Master Childe,” she responds. “He said that he is willing to wait in our lobby until you return.”

Childe sneezes, then sniffles miserably. “Just knowing he’s in the same building is killing me,” he whines pathetically, doing his best to appeal to what little sympathy Ekaterina might have. Ekaterina simply cocks an eyebrow. “Tell him I’ve left for the day. Or that I’m feeling under the weather.”

“As you wish, Master Childe,” Ekaterina demures insincerely. She is positively radiating judgment as she bows and leaves Childe’s office to relay his message.

In his defense, he literally breaks out in hives if he even so much as spies Zhongli’s silhouette. With the way he’s been having back-breaking coughing fits when others so much as mention Zhongli’s name, Childe can’t help but wonder if he will just up and pass away if he spends any time with Zhongli.

However, when Ekaterina does not return to tell him that Zhongli has stationed himself as a permanent fixture in Northland Bank, Childe slowly relaxes, and the symptoms start to abate. He is safe for another day, he tells himself. His orders must be coming soon, and then he will leave this whole humiliating nightmare behind, with Zhongli none the wiser.

With the threat of death by Zhongli put aside for the time being, he passes the rest of the afternoon in relative peace, slowly making his way through some petty paperwork he was fairly certain Andrei had passed off to him only out of pity. Without any official Harbinger duties to attend to, with the Millileth breathing down his neck any time he so much as steps outside, and with his regular lunch appointments with Zhongli put on an indefinite hiatus for obvious reasons, Childe has found his schedule abruptly and completely empty for the first time in years.

Still, paperwork is hardly Childe’s idea of a good time. By the time evening rolls around, he is positively vibrating in his seat with pent up energy - he is beyond ready to leave the Bank and just - well, do something that doesn’t involve sitting for hours.

He steps out into the evening, letting the heavy doors to Northland Bank swing shut behind him. He closes his eyes as he breathes in the fresh air, taking just a moment to take in the feeling of being in beautiful, temperate Liyue. The petals that reside in his chest are calm, for once, and he relaxes, stretching leisurely, as he enjoys the temporary respite.

Though Her Majesty’s quest may send him all over Teyvat, somehow, he doesn’t think he would be able to forget Liyue. It’s hard not to be wistful, especially knowing that he would most likely be leaving sometime soon. The bustling streets full of merchants peddling their knicks and knacks, the soft summertime breeze that would send leaves dancing through Yujing Terrace -

“Childe?”

Childe’s eyes snap open. “Wha - Zhongli?!”

To his great despair, the subject of Childe’s Hanahaki, who he had been diligently and successfully avoiding for the past month, is climbing the steps that lead to Northland Bank. To Childe’s even greater despair, Zhongli is as put together as he remembers, with his perfect posture, the silky strands of hair that fluttered lightly behind him, the fitted suit that made it, unfortunately, very obvious to Childe that the chiseled abs and tapered waist of the various Moraxes that littered Liyue, sprawled atop their respective Statues of the Seven, are definitely not artistic embellishments.

Childe briefly considers making a break for it.

“Childe,” Zhongli repeats, in his stupidly low, rich voice. He needs to stop saying Childe’s name like that, Childe thinks with a tinge of hysteria, before he vomits flowers all over Zhongli’s expensive suit. “It has been a while.” He hesitates. “I am glad to see you.”

“Are you?” Childe says, voice shooting up much higher than he’d like, as he slowly inches around Zhongli. This is not good - he could already feel the flowers that have made their residence somewhere in his lungs start to stir. “I uh, me too, but I gotta run -”

Zhongli’s hand shoots out - far faster than Childe would expect - to grasp Childe’s wrist. His glove is cool against Childe’s skin, and Childe blinks at the sight of Zhongli’s fingers wrapped around his wrist. No doubt sensing Childe’s surprise, Zhongli lets go just as quickly, sheepish.

“I was hoping,” he begins, peering at Childe earnestly, “that you would accompany me for dinner tonight.”

Once upon a time, the request would’ve been music to his ears. Now … “Sorry, Mr. Zhongli, but I …” As he scrambled for an excuse, he coughs lightly into a fist, in a desperate attempt to assuage the itch in his throat, if even just by a bit. “I’m not feeling great, so I’m just going to go home and rest.” He tries his best to arrange his features into a sheepish look. “Maybe next time?”

Zhongli frowns. “Are you ill?” he asks, concerned. “Have you been working too hard? Or did you forget to wear a jacket? It has been cooler, as of late.”

Childe flushes as Zhongli steps forward, slipping a glove off in one smooth motion, no doubt to press his palm against Childe’s forehead to test for a non-existent fever. Archons, Childe had almost forgotten how overbearing Zhongli can be sometimes. “Nothing like that,” he denies hastily, taking a step back. He does not want to test what will happen if Zhongli actually presses his skin against Childe’s.

Zhongli pauses, lowering his hand slowly. His brow furrows, and he awkwardly pulls away. “Childe,” he begins, weighing his words, “Have I offended you?”

Well, that was certainly one way of putting it.

But before Childe could tell Zhongli that no, of course not, Mr. Zhongli, why would you think that, the itch in his throat suddenly flames so intensely that it damn near suffocates him. He instinctively presses his mouth into the crook of his elbow, as the first of a series of what will, no doubt, be completely incriminating coughs begin to rack his body.

Childe curses internally. He was just thinking that the Hanahaki had been strangely cooperative, for once. Apparently it lost its patience as Childe floundered through his weak excuses to escape Zhongli’s presence.

He can hear Zhongli approach, his deep tones distinctly alarmed. A warm hand presses against Childe’s back, and slowly begins to rub soft, comforting circles. 'Stop', Childe thinks, frustrated, as the taste of bitter chrysanthemum petals fills his mouth, the force of the coughs forcing tears to prick the corners of his eyes, 'You’re just going to make it worse.'

Against all odds, his coughing fit does not, in fact, get worse with Zhongli’s touch (and not for the first time, Childe wishes the Hanahaki fairy gave him a guidebook when they decided to bestow Hanahaki upon him that night). After what seems like an eternity of wheezing, gradually the coughs subside, leaving Childe’s throat raw and uncomfortable, and Childe himself strangely weary. 'I want to go home,' he thinks miserably.

Sniffling in a valiant attempt to stop his runny nose from leaking and humiliating him any more, he pushes lightly against Zhongli’s chest, against which he had, apparently at some point during his fit, been leaning for support. “Sorry about that,” Childe mutters, swiping a finger under each eye quickly. “Like I said, not feeling great.”

At Zhongli’s continued silence, Childe finally peers upwards through teary eyelashes. “Um, Mr. Zhongli?”

His heart drops.

Zhongli is staring at one of the petals that had flown into his hand, his expression inscrutable.

He chuckles awkwardly. “Aw man, sorry Mr. Zhongli, I’ll get you a tissue for that or something -”

“Childe,” Zhongli breaks in. He lifts his eyes to meet Childe’s. “Is this … Hanahaki?”

Childe is ready to sink into the Abyss. “Ah … yeah,” he concedes, folding his arms over his chest protectively. “Sorry, this must be a bit weird. I’m sure it’ll go away soon though, so no need to worry!” he says with faux cheer.

This was what he was dreading. The awkward talk where Zhongli figures out that Childe is in love with him, Zhongli says sorry, puny mortal, but I have no interest in you, and Childe slinks away in shame. Just end his misery already.

Zhongli is once again staring at the offending petal, trembling in the middle of his gloved palm, threatening to fly away in the breeze. Silent, he plucks the petal up between his fingers and examines it under the sinking sunlight. He is as hard to read as ever, Childe thinks, as he shifts his weight from side to side anxiously.

“Zhongli?” he prods, voice small.

This seems to snap Zhongli out of his trance. “Apologies,” Zhongli says, lowering the petal. His eyebrows are pinched together and his gaze solemn, as he addresses Childe. He looks … unhappy. Conflicted. Makes sense. He probably wasn’t expecting to have to handle Childe’s feelings for him this evening, when he came looking for him. “I am sorry that you are afflicted with Hanahaki. It must have been a trying experience.”

Childe waves it off. “It’s not that bad, don’t worry. It’s just a minor inconvenience, so …” Don’t worry about it? It’s not your fault? What is someone supposed to say in these circumstances?

“Is this why you have been unwilling to see me in the past month?” Zhongli asks.

“I … yeah,” Childe answers a bit lamely. “I thought it’d be um. Awkward.”

Zhongli shakes his head, frowning, as if disappointed in Childe’s answer. “Why would it be awkward?” he asks. But before Childe can even begin to formulate a response, Zhongli continues, “I understand that you cannot help your feelings. There is no reason that you should feel awkward around me. I will not treat you any differently as a result, Childe.”

Zhongli is being rather … gentle. Maybe he’s had to let down quite a few people in his time. Perhaps he had developed a knack for it over his 6,000 years of life. “Ah … thanks, Mr. Zhongli.”

“In any case, whoever is the subject of your affections is very lucky,” Zhongli continues, with the same unhappy look on his face. “They would be very foolish to not return your feelings.”

… What?

Is Zhongli planning to just feign ignorance? Childe isn’t sure why that’s necessary at this stage, given there is nothing left of Childe’s pride left to salvage, but maybe Zhongli is just being considerate. Even if Zhongli’s gallantry is a bit misguided, Childe isn’t going to call him out on it. “I guess,” Childe says noncommittally. “Look, we don’t have to talk about it.”

“Of course,” Zhongli agrees immediately, with a noticeable tinge of relief. “In that case, would you be willing to accompany me for dinner? Though I understand if you are feeling too unwell - I do not wish to impose.”

'You could never impose,' Childe thinks, but instead opts for something a little less intense. “If you don’t mind me throwing up flowers into our meal every now and then,” he jokes weakly.

Zhongli smiles softly. “I don’t mind,” he says agreeably. “Shall we?”

Zhongli and Childe end up at Wamin’s, like they always do. Seated outside the little storefront, away from the busy street, Childe is free to sneeze and sniffle his way through dinner. True to his word, Zhongli treats Childe just the same as he always does - such as piling food into Childe’s bowl (“Have you lost weight again, Childe?”); sliding his own jacket over Childe’s shoulders (“You are already ill - it will not do if you were to catch a cold, as well.”); and generally just fussing over Childe like an overbearing parent.

“Mr. Zhongli,” Childe protests, as Zhongli reaches over once more to plop some Tianshu meat on Childe’s rice.

“You are ill,” Zhongli reminds him sternly, before spooning some bamboo shoot soup into a bowl and sliding it over to Childe, much to his chagrin. “It is imperative that you supplement your diet with sufficient nutrition such that your health does not deteriorate further. Bamboo shoots are rich in cellulose, antioxidants and a variety of other nutrients, and should have the added benefit of stimulating your appetite.”

Childe sighs. “Okay, Mr. Zhongli,” he acquiesces, tugging the bowl of bamboo shoot soup towards himself. He purposefully does not look up - he suspects Zhongli is sporting a rather self-satisfied look. “Though really, it’s just Hanahaki.”

“Continued coughing and allergy-like symptoms will still take a toll on your body, particularly if this continues indefinitely,” Zhongli scolds. “While Hanahaki may not be life-threatening or particularly dangerous on its own, it would be rather unfortunate if your body were to gradually weaken with the prolonged effects.”

Childe sneezes twice in quick succession, as if to bolster Zhongli’s point. “It’s fine,” he reassures Zhongli, sniffling a bit pathetically. Zhongli doesn’t look terribly convinced. “After all, I’ll probably be leaving Liyue soon. I can’t imagine the Hanahaki will stick around forever once I’ve left.”

“I see,” Zhongli says noncommittally. There is a brief pause, before he, with a measured casualness, continues, “Am I correct, then, in assuming that the subject of your Hanahaki is residing in Liyue?”

Childe frowns. This again? “I mean, yes?”

“And you are unlikely to meet this person outside of Liyue?”

“Are you even capable of leaving Liyue?” Childe blurts out without thinking. He cringes a little - maybe he was a bit too straightforward. Well, whatever.

Zhongli just looks confused. “Me?”

Wow, he is really committed to this bit. Is all this really necessary? Does Zhongli really think Childe’s feelings are that fragile? “Nevermind, ignore me,” Childe plays along. He definitely tastes the bitterness of defeat. “Yeah, I doubt I’ll meet him outside of Liyue. Why?”

Zhongli hums. “It is just that you seem confident that your feelings will fade, once you have left Liyue.”

Ah, so Zhongli is just worried that Childe won’t be able to let go of his feelings, even once he has sailed off into the sunset, never to return. Whether this was out of concern for Childe’s wellbeing, or because Zhongli finds Childe’s feelings bothersome, Childe isn’t certain. “Yeah, I figure out of sight, out of mind, right?” He pauses to cough lightly into his elbow. “Nothing to worry about. Once I’m back on missions, I’m sure I’ll be too busy to think about that stuff, anyways.”

Childe hopes he sounds more confident than he actually is.

“That is rather pragmatic of you,” Zhongli praises, readily accepting Childe’s answer. “I only hope that you are happy, after all. I do not wish for you to be afflicted with Hanahaki for long.”

“Here’s hoping,” Childe mutters into his bowl.

They fall into an uncharacteristic silence, save for Childe’s coughing, sniffling, etc. He obediently swallows his bamboo shoot soup, shoving down the persistent itching in his throat. The cured pork isn’t as salty as Childe remembers it - in fact, he can barely taste it, thanks to the miraculously simultaneously stuffy and runny nose he is currently suffering, thanks to one Zhongli’s presence.

Not for the first time this evening, Childe mentally curses the deity who decided to inflict him with Hanahaki.

Zhongli breaks through Childe’s thoughts with another question. “You mentioned that you will be leaving Liyue soon,” he starts mildly, as Childe peers up from his mouthful, “when will you be leaving?”

Childe shrugs. “As soon as I receive a missive from Her Majesty. Ah, but to be honest, I’m not really sure when that’s going to be.”

“The Cryo Archon has not requested your return to Snezhnaya?”

“Nope,” Childe says, stabbing his chopsticks into a jade parcel with little grace. “So I’ve got nowhere to be in the meantime.”

“You do not wish to return home?”

Well. “It’s … less about not wanting to go back to Snezhnaya,” Childe explains delicately, “and more that I don’t want Her Majesty to find out about …” He coughs pointedly, a stray chrysanthemum petal shooting straight into his waiting palm.

“Ah.” Zhongli frowns. “Do you think that she will not be understanding of your condition?”

How is Childe even supposed to begin to explain to Zhongli that his identity, and the simple fact that Childe is in love with him, is enough to constitute treason?

“It’s more about who the person I’m in love with is,” Childe says wryly. He’ll just trust Zhongli to spell it out for himself.

Zhongli blinks owlishly, apparently piecing it together. “Because your beloved is Liyuen?” he asks, brows scrunched up in confusion. “I am certain the Cryo Archon is not as prejudiced as you believe her to be.”

Calling Zhongli simply “Liyuen” is kind of an understatement. Childe, bemused, opens his mouth to tell him so. However, before he manages it, he is struck with a coughing fit for what has to be the twentieth time this evening. He holds up a shaky finger, as he paints the inside of his sleeve yellow and orange with flower petals.

When the fit subsides, Childe starts cheerily, voice hoarse, “Sorry Mr. Zhongli, what were we saying again?”

Zhongli shakes his head. “I apologize, Childe,” Zhongli says, looking abashed, “the reason your symptoms are flaring must be because I haven’t let the matter rest. While I worry about your health, I have also actively been reminding you of your beloved, to your detriment.” He bows his head slightly. “I will consider my words more carefully.”

That is obviously not the problem!! Just who did Zhongli think he was fooling?!

Childe is at his breaking point.

“Are you doing this on purpose?” Childe asks, miserably.

“How do you mean?”

Childe has to really resist the urge to lean over and shake some sense into Zhongli. Zhongli is really going to make him spell it all out. “You can stop pretending you don’t know that I’m in love with you. Just, let me down easy, yeah?”

Zhongli blinks once.

Then twice.

“Apologies, Childe,” Zhongli says, slowly, as if he trying to formulate some sort of conclusion in his head, but is short one piece of the puzzle, “but could you please repeat the last part of what you just said?”

Childe sniffles before his runny nose can make him look even more pathetic than he already is. “What, let me down easy?”

“No, Childe,” Zhongli responds. He reaches forward, and Childe watches in complete confusion as Zhongli reaches over the table and takes one of Childe’s hands gently into his, almost reverently. “You said - you are in love with me?”

“Was that not obvious?” Childe frowns. Had Zhongli actually not known?

He wasn’t sure how that had fallen through the cracks, given literally everyone he had talked to since he’d developed Hanahaki seems to have been able to deduce the subject of Childe’s Hanahaki within five minutes of talking to him. Also, with the way Childe had been sneezing and wheezing in Zhongli’s presence, how could it possibly not have been obvious?

Zhongli brushes his thumb across Childe’s skin, the touch light and fond. Now Childe is really confused. “I don’t understand, Childe,” he says.

Well, that makes the two of them. “What do you mean?”

“Surely, you are aware of how I feel,” Zhongli says. “So I am at a loss as to how you appear to have developed Hanahaki because of me.”

Wait.

… Huh?

“Wait wait wait, back up,” Childe exclaims, jerking his hand out of Zhongli’s instinctively. Zhongli lets him go without a fight. “Sorry, what do you mean by ‘how you feel’? Am I missing something here?”

It is Zhongli’s turn to frown. “Do you not recall the chopsticks I gifted to you?”

Childe’s frantic mind draws up the image of the dragon-and-phoenix-patterned chopsticks, haphazardly stowed away in his office at the Northland Bank. “I mean, I remember them, yeah.” Though it is a bit rich of Zhongli to say that he had gifted the chopsticks to Childe considering, well, Childe pretty much paid for them himself from Pantalone’s stash. (He had received a strongly worded letter from Pantalone a month later, demanding that Childe explain why in the name of the Tsaritsa did Childe need chopsticks that cost 128,000 mora -) “Why?”

“In that case, you are aware that I had previously expressed my interest in asking for your hand in marriage,” Zhongli explains, matter-of-fact, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “When you were unresponsive to my request, I had assumed that you were uninterested in my proposal. So I am rather surprised to discover that you had developed Hanahaki, on my account.”

Of Zhongli’s entire explanation, Childe’s mind snags on one single word. He splutters, “Sorry - marriage?”

“Yes, I …” Zhongli trails off, comprehension dawning on his face. “Childe, are you perhaps unaware of the meaning of the dragon and phoenix motif?”

“I wasn’t aware they meant anything!” Childe cries, voice taking on a definite shrill note. How was he supposed to know they represented marriage, of all things?! “I thought - I thought they were just fancy chopsticks! You said you wanted me to practice with them, because my chopstick skills were so abysmal!”

“Yes, I hoped that you would make use of the gift,” Zhongli says.

Childe is momentarily stunned into silence. He can’t even begin to unpack - just, everything.

So instead, he opts to rest his elbows on the table, then unceremoniously plop his face right into his hands. “Are you telling me,” he says, voice muffled from behind his palms, “that I have been embarrassing myself and coughing up flowers for a month for nothing?”

“My apologies, Childe,” Zhongli responds, his tone abashed, “It was my oversight to have assumed that you would have recognized the meaning behind the chopsticks. I have caused you a great deal of discomfort and unhappiness as a result.”

“No, that’s - that’s not your fault,” Childe groans. He almost most definitely would have known what the dragon-and-phoenix motif meant, if he had bothered to read the various volumes of Customs of Liyue that Pantalone had dropped off with Childe before Childe’s departure from Snezhnaya. He’d delivered his farewells with that insincere smile of his and a rather threatening, ‘Don’t make a fool of yourself in Liyue, Tartaglia.’ Well, it’s a bit too late for that now, isn’t it?

Cool, gloved fingers wrap lightly around Childe’s wrists, and tug his hands gently away from his face. Childe lets it happen, feeling his face flush as Zhongli peers at him, his gaze soft and so indescribably fond. “Now that you are aware of my intentions, may I have an answer?”

Childe’s head is spinning with the speed at which the entire situation is progressing. “I don’t know,” he mumbles, gaze planted firmly on his hands, which remained in Zhongli’s firm grasp. “I mean, I am still a Harbinger, in Her Majesty’s service -”

“The Cryo Archon will not oppose our union,” Zhongli responds immediately.

He had said that with a bit too much confidence. Childe narrows his eyes. “Zhongli,” he starts, almost dreading the answer, “did you ask Her Majesty for her blessing?”

“Naturally,” he says casually, as if he hadn’t just signed the order for Childe’s exile from Snezhnaya, or perhaps his execution. Childe’s heart nearly stops.

“And?” Childe feels faint. “How did she react?”

“She gave her blessing quite readily, and hopes to be invited to the wedding.”

That’s … not what he was expecting.

“That’s … that’s it?” Childe says weakly. “Her Majesty didn’t say anything else?”

Zhongli pauses thoughtfully. “She did express her expectation that you will continue your work as her Harbinger. I told her that if that is also your wish, I will not stand in your way, though naturally I will offer you my protection wherever your work takes you.”

“Wherever my work takes me?”

“I am retired now, after all.” Zhongli explains. “As I am no longer tied to my responsibilities in Liyue, I wish to travel Teyvat with you, to the degree that you are willing to indulge my company.” Zhongli fixes Childe with his gaze, warm and earnest. “And if you wish to carry out your duties as a Harbinger on your own, then I simply wish for you to know that you will always have a home to return to, here in Liyue.”

Childe opens his mouth, then closes it wordlessly.

Maybe this is just how adepti work. Straight from friendship to pledging the next few decades to following someone else around the world. Or maybe it’s just an Archon thing? Maybe it’s because a mortal’s lifetime is nothing but a blip in a god’s life, so there’s no time to waste, or something.

But Zhongli is watching Childe expectantly, so Childe sets the frantic theorizing aside.

“Can I … think about it?” he asks weakly. “The um, marriage, part. I mean.”

“You are unwilling?”

Childe flounders under the weight of Zhongli’s disappointment. Not that it shows on Zhongli’s face - after all, he is too put together for that - but with the amount of time he had spent in Zhongli’s presence over the last couple of years, he can just tell. “No no,” he rushes to clear the air, drawing his hands away to gesticulate wildly, “I - ugh, how do I explain this - it’s more ...”

He resists the urge to violently shake his head in an attempt to recenter himself. Get yourself together, Tartaglia! Use your words!

Childe takes a deep steadying breath. “Zhongli, it would make me incredibly happy to have you accompany me as I carry out my duties. And to the extent you can’t, I would be honored to call a place by your side in Liyue my home.” He shakes his head. “But marriage, is, um, by mortal standards, something that doesn’t usually happen immediately. So …”

“Ah.” Zhongli nods sagely, his expression suspiciously clear and bright. “I understand.”

“You do?”

“Of course,” Zhongli assures him. “We will set the question of marriage aside, until it is appropriate by human customs. I seek to live among mortals, after all.” He smiles, content, the corners of his mouth lilting upwards softly. “But you will allow me to continue to indulge in your company, no matter where your duties may take you?”

“Of course, Mr. Zhongli. I mean.” Childe rubs his neck self-consciously. He wasn’t really expecting Zhongli to acquiesce so readily. “To the degree Her Majesty allows it.”

“Then I am beyond satisfied,” Zhongli says, without missing a beat. “Childe, I simply wish to be by your side.”

Ah … Childe has to cross his arms firmly against his chest, to resist the urge to hide his face in his hands again, like some blushing maiden in one of those Inazuman romance novels. How does Zhongli say this sort of thing with a straight face?

“Ah, but first,” Zhongli thankfully adds, before Childe can think of something to say, “Childe, you haven’t coughed in quite some time. Are you feeling better?”

Childe is suddenly acutely aware of the lightness in his lungs. “Ah, Zhongli, you’re right!” he exclaims, taking a deep breath in experimentally. He revels in how he can no longer feel the chrysanthemums rattling inside his ribcage. “I don’t feel the petals anymore!”

“That is wonderful news.” Zhongli reaches over, tugging at one of Childe’s arms so that he can take Childe’s hand back into his. Childe is beginning to suspect that this is going to become a habit of Zhongli’s. “Though I will be monitoring your recovery throughout the next week or so. After all, Hanahaki can be rather taxing on the human body if left untreated over an extended period of time. It will be beneficial to ensure that you recover without any long-lasting side-effects.” He uses his spare hand to spoon some more bamboo shoot soup into Childe’s bowl. “Please, before it gets cold.”

Childe groans.

The next day, Childe finally receives his long-awaited missive from Zapolyarny Palace. It reads:

My dearest Eleventh,

I must extend my sincerest congratulations to you and Morax, though I am rather disappointed to hear that a wedding shall not be in order.

Please make arrangements to return to Zapolyarny Palace once you have settled all your affairs in Liyue, so that we may discuss your next mission. You may advise that old dragon that he is welcome to come as well.

The Tsaritsa