Zhongli

In Liyue, children knew how to run as though the entire city had been built specifically for them, with careful allowance made for short legs, terrible ideas, and absolutely no respect for anyone else’s sense of balance. The adults, especially those who traded near the foot of the stairs, along narrow streets, or beside temporary stalls, had long since grown used to the fact that, from time to time, something small, loud, and impossible would go darting over the roofs, awnings, and wooden crossbeams, after which all that remained was to lift one’s head, sigh, and try to follow the disaster’s route by sound alone. Liyue, after all, was a city where many things were simply accepted as part of life. Even the fact that beings still lived there, and in the surrounding lands, whom other nations would describe as wonders, threats, or ancient legends, had here been reduced to a matter of household caution: yes, someone had horns, yes, someone’s eyes glowed in the dark, yes, someone could leap over three roofs and vanish before you even had time to open your mouth. And even against that background, some children still managed to stand out more than others.

That day, Aether and Paimon had, to tell the truth, intended to do something very simple — eat well and take a peaceful walk through the harbor without getting involved in anything unnecessary. It was a good plan, a reasonable plan, and therefore almost certainly doomed. Barely half an hour after Paimon had solemnly announced that she would absolutely not allow chance to steal her evening in Liyue, a sharp woman’s voice rang out from somewhere above, carrying such a vivid mixture of panic and anger that they both looked up at once.

«Stop! Stop, I said stop! Not that way! Not over the awning, it’s going to slip — oh, Archons, where are you even...»

The voice came from somewhere to the right and above them, and it was immediately followed by even more eloquent signs of what was happening: the dull thud of feet on wooden boards, someone’s startled cry from below, the shudder of a light roof over a stall selling dried fruits, and then another voice — this one male, so tired that it had already reached a kind of philosophical resignation.

«Ah, that one again. I told you, when he’s quiet all day, it only means he’s saving up strength.»

«Who is “that one”?» Paimon demanded at once, already floating higher than usual.

The answer came not in words, but in the form of a swift golden-brown blur that flew from one roof to another so lightly that it seemed to weigh no more than a paper lantern. It was only when that blur stopped sharply on the edge of an awning, turned, and looked back that it became clear it was a child. A very small one, perhaps five years old, maybe six, no older than that, with thin little arms, a ridiculous stubborn chin, and the sort of smile that usually meant he understood perfectly well that he was doing something forbidden, and that was exactly why he was enjoying it twice as much.

But it was not only the impudence of that smile that stood out. Rising from his dark hair were a pair of small draconic horns — smooth, warm brown in color, with amber light glowing at their tips, as though someone had set pieces of sunset stone into them. For a brief moment they caught the evening light, and something in Aether tightened with a very strange sensation, not fearful, but too familiar for a random encounter in the street. Paimon saw it at once too, though she only had time to stare, because the boy had already taken off again.

«You would’ve caught me by now if you could!» he shouted over his shoulder, his voice bright, very young, but already absurdly certain of his own invincibility. «You’re too heavy! You can’t go that fast!»

Lan Yan came rushing around the corner after him. Aether did not know her especially well, but he had seen enough of her before to understand that this was no act, no spirited game. Her usually bright face was drawn tight with strain, her breathing had gone ragged, and her eyes held that precise mixture of fear and irritation that belonged to someone who had been entrusted with another person’s treasure — a treasure with feet, opinions, and absolutely no sense of proportion.

«I am not heavy, you little menace, I’m wearing sandals!» she shot back, then, seeing Aether and Paimon, almost stumbled from surprise alone. «Oh... Traveler? Paimon? Don’t just stand there, please help! If he falls in the water or lands on someone’s head, I’m going to throw myself into the river afterward and never come back!»

«What is he even doing?!» Paimon shouted, already flying after the boy’s path.

«He ran!» Lan Yan nearly wailed, leaping over a low basket by the steps. «I looked away for one minute — one minute, I swear! — and he had already declared that he “wanted to see how far he could get without being noticed.” I noticed! I noticed immediately! But as you can see, that changed absolutely nothing!»

By then the boy had already landed on the roof of a small stall selling tea leaves, run across it so quickly that the hanging bundles of herbs swayed dangerously, and looked back again, plainly delighted not only by his own speed but by the chase itself. His horns glimmered slightly, and, to Lan Yan’s even greater horror, he did not merely jump — he slid forward in one quick, almost flying burst that left no room for doubt: this was not simply a quick little boy with draconic traits. This was a young dragon who did not yet know how to calculate consequences, but already knew perfectly well how to use what came naturally to him.

«I told you, you can’t catch me!» came the call from above, happy and intolerably smug.

«You keep talking like that and your mother will catch you before anyone else!» Lan Yan yelled back, and from the way her voice faltered on the word “mother,” Aether caught another important detail: she was not only afraid that the boy would crack his head open or bring half the market down on himself. She was sincerely terrified of having to look his parents in the eye afterward.

That, to be fair, was understandable. Even by the standards of Liyue’s constant habit of turning other people’s private lives into rumor, a dragon child was not just “a sweet unusual little boy.” There were precious few such creatures left in all of Teyvat. And if this particular boy also had parents who were wealthy, respected, calm, wise, and so outwardly composed that the very thought of disappointing them made one want to disappear from the face of the earth in advance, then naturally any nanny, attendant, or temporary caretaker would end up sprinting through the harbor with the expression of someone whose fate was already hanging by a thread.

«Aether, he’s going up again!» Paimon screeched.

Aether saw that well enough for himself. The boy had already leapt from one stall roof to another, kicked off from a stretched canopy, barely touching it, and raced along the row, making the shopkeepers beneath him do nothing more than tilt their heads up and sigh in perfect unison, as though they had followed this exact route by sound many times before.

«He went left, toward the sweets!»

«No, now he’ll cut for the fish, he always speeds up there!»

«Will somebody please tell him the stall is not an obstacle course?!»

Paimon flew after him, Lan Yan ran below on the ground, and Aether kept pace because the street here was too narrow for anyone to split off usefully. Before long someone else joined the pursuit as well: Xiangling, who first popped out from around a corner asking what in the world was going on, and two seconds later was already running beside them, sincerely encouraging everyone while also attempting to reason with the boy as though he were a civilized being.

«Hey! Young master! Come down! I’ll cook you something good later, just get down before you try flying where you shouldn’t!»

«I am already flying!» he informed her cheerfully, though in truth he was still just springing from roof to roof.

At the next turn, Yanfei appeared too, apparently having mistaken the shouting for some ordinary market dispute at first, then immediately understanding there was something better happening and joining in before she had even heard the full explanation.

«No, this has gone well past the legal category of “minor domestic inconvenience,”» she declared while running, adjusting her hat. «If he knocks down somebody’s sign next, then we’ll have property damage on our hands, and I like property disputes much less than people assume!»

«Catch him first, then classify the problem!» Lan Yan gasped, already so out of breath that it looked as though three adepti with disciplinary scrolls were chasing her instead.

And the boy, it seemed, was only just getting started. He was not running wildly, but with the horrible confidence of someone who had already memorized the harbor from above: he knew where the boards were stronger, where the awning would take his weight, where a quick burst could carry him between two roofs. He kept looking back, measuring the distance, laughing whenever one of the adults almost caught up, and there was indeed something terribly dragon-like in that — not only in the horns, not only in the lightness of his movements, but in that shameless certainty that the whole world ought to play with him if he happened to be in the mood.

«You’re all too slow!» *he announced from above, spinning on the edge of a stall selling paper lanterns. «And too loud!»

«We’re loud because we’re trying to stop you from breaking your neck!» Paimon yelled.

«My neck is sturdy!»

«What a little bastard...» Lan Yan muttered, almost with reluctant admiration, then immediately caught herself and raised her voice again. «Don’t you dare jump farther! There’s a turn there, it’s narrow!»

And naturally, that was exactly where he jumped.

After that, everything happened quickly, and all at once a little too beautifully not to be remembered. Beyond the corner, the street narrowed, then abruptly opened into a small space between a few stalls and a staircase. The boy shot into it in another swift, almost floating burst, looking back over his shoulder at his pursuers with that same insolent smile of a victor who was already sure he would get three more steps ahead. Paimon yelped, Lan Yan lunged forward, Aether accelerated too, Yanfei cursed under her breath, Xiangling nearly collided with a basket by the wall — and that was the exact moment when a voice rang out.

«Stop.»

It was not loud. It was not sharp. But there was such clear command in it that everyone heard it at once. The boy heard it too. Worse for him, he obeyed before he had even had time to think. He jerked, as though meaning to carry himself farther by momentum, but his whole body had already gone still — not from magic, not from force, but from that immediate, undeniable child’s realization that now the game was truly over.

You were standing directly in front of him.

You had appeared in exactly the way that made it seem as though you had always been in that spot, and the rest of them had simply noticed too late. One step forward, calm, straight-backed, a face completely free of fuss or shouting — and in that calm there was far more threat to the little fugitive than there would have been in any amount of pursuit. He did not even manage a proper cry of surprise before he ran into you full-force — face-first into the soft fabric over your chest, with a small, very childish little “oof,” after which your arms caught him at once. Not roughly, not sharply, but so securely that it became obvious immediately: that was it. There would be no more draconic bursts from here.

Everyone else, meanwhile, had committed much too fully to the chase and reacted more slowly and much more absurdly. Paimon squealed and skidded so sharply in the air that she nearly flipped over, Lan Yan practically sank to the ground from sheer relief, Yanfei caught herself on the nearest post, and Aether and Xiangling stopped only two steps short, both catching their breath and understanding at the same time that only a stage director could have arranged the moment more effectively.

The boy in your arms froze at first, then very slowly lifted his head. The obnoxious smile had vanished completely. In its place there was now the expression of someone who understood that he was not simply about to be scolded — he was about to be questioned. And that, for him at least, was probably worse.

«Mom...» he said, now very noticeably quieter.

«Yes,» you answered evenly. «And, in case you failed to notice, I would very much like to hear what exactly struck you as worth fleeing across the roofs over.»

Behind Aether, Lan Yan made a tiny sound so full of relief that it almost resembled a sob. It was clear now that she had been holding herself together on pure panic alone, and now that the child was finally in the hands of a real, rightful, unquestionably authoritative adult, her legs were threatening to give out beneath her.

«I almost caught him...» she muttered, more to herself than to anyone else. «Almost. At the stall with the nuts. If he hadn’t cut across the awning...»

You turned your gaze to her, and alongside the same strict, cool calm with which you had just stopped your own son in mid-flight, something else appeared in your face too — a very quick, clear assessment: Lan Yan was unhurt, frightened, exhausted, and obviously fully expecting to have to justify herself.

«Lan Yan,» you said, more gently now. «You are not required to explain this little catastrophe’s route to me right this second. Catch your breath first.»

She actually parted her lips in surprise. Apparently, she had been bracing for a far more unpleasant conversation.

«I... yes, Madam. I mean... forgive me. I only turned away for a moment, and he already...»

«...decided to test the outer limits of acceptable behavior,» you finished calmly, looking back at the boy. «Yes. That much I can see.»

Paimon, only now fully recovering, threw up her hands.

«Wait, wait! So he’s your son?!»

You lifted your eyes to her, and at last real surprise entered your expression — apparently only now had you fully noticed with whom exactly the child had managed to drag half the city into his escape.

«Paimon? Traveler?» You blinked, then looked at Lan Yan, then back to them. «It seems he chose a very unfortunate day for a runaway expedition.»

«A very unfortunate one!» *Paimon said hotly. «We practically ran across half the city after him! He was racing over those roofs like the whole harbor belonged to him!»

The boy, still held very firmly but no longer quite so rigidly, muttered into your shoulder:

«They were loud too.»

«You are not currently in a position to evaluate anyone else’s technique of pursuit,» you said, and in your voice there was that extraordinary blend of strictness and composure which usually worked on children better than shouting ever could.

And that was when he appeared.

Zhongli did not arrive suddenly — rather in the same way he always seemed to arrive in Liyue, as though he had simply happened to be where he ought to be at the proper moment. But this time there was none of his usual leisurely softness in his step. He was walking quickly. Not in a flustered way, not heavily, but genuinely quickly — and that alone was enough to make something shift again inside Aether. Because if even Zhongli had abandoned his measured pace, then the situation had clearly gone beyond the bounds of an ordinary domestic inconvenience.

He stopped beside you, his gaze taking in the whole scene in a single instant: the child in your arms, the worn-out Lan Yan, the disheveled Paimon, Yanfei with her still-irritated expression, Xiangling still catching her breath, and Aether, who did not even have to explain anything. Only then did he look back at his son.

«I assume,» he said calmly, far too calmly for a man who had evidently already crossed half the harbor in search of this little nightmare, «that you had some reason to believe such behavior would merit the attention of the entire street.»

The boy pressed his face deeper into you and did not answer.

Paimon, who until then had been occupied entirely with the chase itself, now slowly turned toward a new source of devastation.

«No. No, don’t tell me...» She pointed first at the horned little boy, then at you, then at Zhongli. «He is... your child?»

Zhongli looked at her with that same unruffled clarity that always made news sound even more devastating when it came from him.

«Yes,» he said. «Our son.»

Aether closed his eyes for a second. Not in horror — only from the painfully familiar sensation that the whole situation had once again stopped being random all at once.

Paimon gasped.

«You have a wife and a son?! And nobody thought to mention this in advance?!»

Yanfei, who until then had held herself together better than anyone else, finally let out a short laugh.

«Well, now it does become genuinely entertaining.»

Xiangling, by contrast, threw up her hands with complete sincerity and no irony at all.

«Oh! So this little one is yours? Of course. I can see it now. Especially the horns. And the face when he tries to pretend he isn’t guilty of anything.»

«I’m not pretending,» came the muffled response from your clothing. «I just haven’t had the chance to speak yet.»

«And you won’t be speaking until you’re in a more sensible state,» said Zhongli, already holding out his hands toward him. «Come here.»

The boy lifted his head and looked at him with the sort of expression that suggested he was sincerely hoping his father’s calm meant less strictness than it usually did, but very quickly realized there was no point expecting mercy. You passed your son over without argument, and he settled into Zhongli’s arms just as securely and naturally as he had been in yours. The difference was that while with you he had still allowed himself to bury his face, beside his father he simply went silent and thought.

«I wasn’t planning to go far,» he said at last. «I only wanted to see how long they would keep running.»

«And what was your conclusion?»

«A long time.»

«A brilliant study.»

Lan Yan, now apparently finally convinced that she was not about to be immediately executed for the failed walk, collapsed onto the nearest bench and wiped her brow with her sleeve.

«Mr. Zhongli, Madam... I truly was trying. He was so quiet at first. Far too quiet. And then I realized that was a bad sign, but it was already too late.»

Zhongli shifted his gaze to her, and there was not the slightest trace in his face of the anger she had so clearly feared. Only the tired understanding of someone all too familiar with the subject under discussion.

«If he had decided that he absolutely needed to escape today, it is doubtful anyone could have prevented it entirely. You did enough.»

Lan Yan looked as though she might burst into tears from relief alone. Beside her, Yanfei shook her head.

«Well then. At least now I know why people in the city have been spreading rumors about “a little horned disaster” occasionally seen on the rooftops. I thought they were exaggerating.»

«If anything, they were underestimating it,» Aether said quietly, and Paimon immediately nodded along in passionate agreement.

«He nearly flew away from us! Literally!»

At last, you allowed yourself to exhale properly. The strictness did not disappear, but there was now that unmistakable relief in your face that came only after real fear. Up close, it became all the more obvious how thoroughly you had kept yourself under control this entire time. No frantic gestures, no shouting, no loss of dignity even in the exact second your son collided full-force into your arms. It was every bit as striking as Zhongli’s arrival.

«Please forgive him,» you said now to Aether and Paimon. «And you as well. From the sound of it, he gave you not a walk, but a full city hunt.»

«Paimon wants to be indignant,» she admitted, still looking from you to Zhongli to the boy with the expression of someone who had had other people’s private lives revealed to her one too many times in one evening. «But honestly, Paimon is much more occupied with trying to understand how the two of you have had a dragon son this whole time, one old enough to run all over the city, and we knew absolutely nothing about it.»

Zhongli inclined his head slightly.

«I doubt you are alone in that.»

«That is a terrible answer!»

«But an accurate one.»

The boy, still sitting in his father’s arms, muttered very softly now, with the very last remnants of his earlier audacity:

«I think it’s funny.»

«This is not the position you are in to think that,» both you and Zhongli answered at once, with such perfect synchronization that Xiangling snorted, and Paimon stared at the two of you with something very close to personal offense.

«No, this is simply unfair now. Even the way you speak like actual parents is too convincing. It makes all of this even more real.»

You finally smiled — briefly, tiredly, but very much alive.

«I’m afraid it was real whether you knew it or not.»

Aether looked at the three of you — at the small dragon with amber-tipped horns who clearly still had many future opportunities to wear half the harbor down to the bone, at you, who had gathered the entire chase up with a single word, and at Zhongli, holding his son as though it were not an emergency measure but a long-practiced, familiar motion. And there was something so complete in that image that surprise began to give way to a much stranger feeling: of course. Of course this was exactly how it ought to look. Not scandal. Not some grand secret. Merely another person’s life, large, real, and long since arranged.

Paimon, however, had not yet reached that point.

«All right,» she said, still breathing hard from the chase. «Paimon demands explanations. Many. Detailed. But first — can it be considered certain that this little lord no longer intends to impersonate a natural disaster?»

The boy thought for a second.

«Honestly? I’m not sure.»

«No, that’s it. That’s it, Paimon can’t do this anymore.»

Xiangling laughed openly, Yanfei rubbed her temple in tired disbelief, Lan Yan let out another quiet breath, and meanwhile the lamps above the street were already beginning to glow. Liyue was returning to its ordinary evening: some were laying out their goods, some were closing their stalls, some were carrying supper home. Only the small space between the staircase and the rows of market booths still held the afterimage of the recent chaos — the chase, the pounding over the roofs, the half-shouted warnings, and that short, decisive «Stop,» after which the entire dragon storm had finally been caught.

And if it came to that, Paimon later spent a very long time unable to decide what had shocked her more: the little horned fugitive himself, dashing over the harbor as though every roof there belonged to him, or the fact that his strict, beautiful, impossibly calm parents had turned out to be you and Zhongli, and that, as it happened, this had been true for a very long time indeed.

created by dainsleifswife 2026© on janitorai.com

On days like this, Liyue was especially good at pretending to be simple. The harbor went on with its ordinary life, without the slightest hint that within the next hour someone’s entire understanding of a familiar person might be turned upside down. The lower streets carried the smell of warm pastry, tea, and sea air, merchants called to one another from their stalls, people lingered on the stairways with parcels in hand, and the evening light had already begun settling over the stone in that soft way that made even the most ordinary walk in Liyue seem a little more beautiful than it had any right to be. After so many journeys, Aether had begun to notice that in Liyue trouble rarely started with real disaster. More often, it began with something small and mildly ridiculous, as though the city itself preferred to soothe you first and only then quietly pull the rug out from under your feet.

Paimon, being much less inclined toward philosophy on an empty stomach, was currently occupied with a far more practical task — trying to eat, talk, and complain at the same time.

«Paimon would like to point out that Liyue has far too many places worth stopping at. It’s unfair. You can’t put one restaurant next to another and then act like people aren’t going to suffer trying to choose.»

«You’ve already chosen three times.»

«That wasn’t choosing. That was research.»

Aether did not bother arguing. They were walking along one of the side streets where the larger trade rows gave way to smaller shops selling fabrics, medicinal herbs, hair ornaments, letter boxes, and all the kinds of things people usually bought not in haste, but with the home in mind. The crowd was calmer here, the conversations quieter, and that was exactly why a stranger’s unsettled voice cut through the general noise at once.

«No, it was here a moment ago... I had it in my hands at the stairs...»

Aether turned his head. At a stall with paper parcels and small cases for letters, you were standing there checking your basket, your sleeve, the folds at your waist, and the ground around you with the expression of someone who was not quite panicking yet, but had already begun to suspect that panic was now a very real possibility. A few ribbons, a pair of neatly wrapped parcels, and a small narrow case lay on the counter, but judging by your expression, something was definitely missing.

Paimon was the first to slow down.

«Looks like somebody lost something.»

You heard that, looked up, and apparently only then noticed the two of them properly. For a second, recognition showed on your face, and the awkwardness of the situation immediately mixed with very genuine embarrassment.

«Oh... I’m sorry. This probably looks silly. I just... I think I dropped a case. A small one, dark brown, with a clasp on the side. I still had it in my hand by the stairs.»

Paimon straightened up in the air so quickly that one would have thought she had just heard the call to an actual mission.

«Wait. You know who we are?»

«Of course I do,» you answered, and despite your obvious worry, you even smiled a little. «It would be hard not to recognize the Traveler and Paimon. I just never thought I would meet you like this while searching for a lost item.»

«Well, since we’ve already met,» Paimon said importantly, «you can consider yourself lucky. We are very good at finding things. Sometimes even things we never meant to look for.»

Aether had already crouched down to check beneath the stall. The trace turned up almost immediately: the case had slipped from the edge of your basket, hit the stone, and gotten lodged between one of the stall legs and a stack of empty crates, where it was nearly impossible to spot from above. He retrieved it and held it out to you.

«This one?»

The relief on your face was so immediate that even Paimon, for one brief second, forgot to play the role of the harbor’s official rescuer.

«Yes. Yes, that one. Thank you, truly. I was already starting to think I’d have to go back over the whole street and search from the beginning.»

«What’s in it?» Paimon asked at once. «Something important?»

You nodded, accepting the case carefully in both hands, as though it really did mean more to you than a misplaced object.

«Yes. Not something rare or dangerous, just... something I needed to pass on to my husband. We were supposed to meet a little later, and if I had shown up without it, I would have had to explain why things vanish from my hands exactly when it is least convenient.»

Paimon and Aether exchanged a glance, though not with the same immediate shock as before in another situation. Here, everything sounded too ordinary. A woman in Liyue had a husband, she was bringing him something, and she was going to meet him in a few minutes — what was there to be surprised about.

«Good thing we found it,» Aether said. «Otherwise that meeting would have been awkward.»

«Oh, very,» you sighed, already more lightly now. «Especially because he is exactly the kind of person who does not enjoy hearing me say “I’ve thought of everything,” only for ten minutes later to discover that I clearly have not.»

«That sounds familiar,» Paimon muttered, then immediately perked up again. «And where exactly are you supposed to meet him?»

You pointed slightly farther down the street, to where the road widened near a tea house and two stone lanterns stood side by side.

«At the turn toward Three Cups in Port. I was on my way there. Honestly...» You looked at them again, this time with real warmth rather than simple polite embarrassment. «I never thought I would actually see you in person, and getting help from you over something this small feels even more unexpected. My husband has spoken of you too, actually. So I imagine I’ll be retelling this story at home for quite some time.»

Paimon made a smug little sound.

«See? Paimon knew we leave an impression.»

«I do not doubt it,» you answered with a smile.

What happened next came naturally enough. Paimon, who by now had softened completely, announced that since they were going the same way anyway, they might as well walk you to the meeting point, if only to make sure this mysterious husband of yours was not the sort who kept people waiting too long. Aether did not object, though there was already that quiet curiosity in his gaze that always appeared when the world did not seem to be promising anything unusual, yet you could somehow feel that coincidence had not quite finished speaking.

You made your way farther down the street together, exchanging light, almost domestic conversation. You spoke simply and warmly, without excessive shyness, though the slight excitement of meeting the famous Traveler still flickered through your voice now and then. Paimon, of course, enjoyed that openly, though not cruelly — rather with the honest delight she always felt toward people who did not try to put on airs around her and Aether.

«Is your husband from Liyue too?» she asked along the way.

«Yes. Although...» You thought for a second. «It might be more accurate to say that he is one of those people who suits Liyue so well that it feels as though the city had been made with him in mind.»

«That is a very vague answer,» Aether observed.

«Yes, probably. I’m just not very good at explaining him briefly.»

«Paimon is already intrigued.»

«Then it may be best to wait a little longer. You are about to see for yourselves.»

And that was exactly the moment when everything went in a very fortunate, very ridiculous, and very Liyue sort of direction.

Someone was already standing at the meeting spot. A tall man in dark robes, with striking green accents in his clothing, a medicine case at his back, and that composed, courteous bearing that was hard to mistake for anyone else. Baizhu.

Paimon was the first to recognize him and immediately jolted in the air.

«Oh! Mr. Baizhu?»

You noticed him too and, unfortunately for the situation, quickened your pace at once. Not because you ran joyfully to him, but simply because he was standing exactly where your meeting was supposed to take place. For Paimon, however, that was more than enough.

She spun sharply toward Aether.

«Wait. Don’t tell me...»

Aether said nothing, because the exact same thought had already hit him with equal force.

Baizhu, upon seeing the three of you, lifted his brows slightly, then noticed you and inclined his head with perfect politeness.

«What an unexpected meeting. It seems I arrived a little earlier than necessary.»

You stopped right in front of him, and in that precise moment Paimon fully convinced herself of the most shocking possibility available.

«Hold on. WAIT. Is he your husband?!»

You stared at her with such sincere bewilderment that even Baizhu did not step in immediately. Then he cleared his throat lightly into his hand, very obviously hiding a smile.

«I fear there has been a misunderstanding.»

«What kind of misunderstanding?!» Paimon was already darting her gaze wildly between the two of you. «He’s standing here, you came exactly here, he’s waiting, you said your husband would be here — how is Paimon supposed to understand that any other way?!»

You finally came to yourself and almost laughed from pure awkwardness.

«No, no, nothing like that. Mr. Baizhu is here for an entirely different matter. We know each other, but not in that way.»

«“Not in that way” is a very useful clarification,» Baizhu remarked with flawless courtesy. «Mr. Zhongli asked me to bring him something, and we agreed to cross paths here. I imagine you were expecting him for the same reason.»

Paimon froze.

«What.»

Aether exhaled slowly.

«Now it’s worse.»

«Much worse,» Paimon agreed in a quieter voice. «Because if her husband isn’t Baizhu, then...»

You had already opened your mouth to explain something, but before you could, a calm, even voice sounded from behind you, entirely unaware of the scale of the shock now descending on the scene.

«My apologies for keeping you waiting. I was delayed longer than I expected.»

All four of you turned at once.

Zhongli was walking toward you with that unhurried step of his that always made it seem as though any scene he entered had been waiting specifically for him. In one hand he carried a neatly tied parcel, in the other a paper packet from a tea shop, and everything about him, as ever, was so naturally composed that the first second did not even give Paimon time to be properly afraid. He drew nearer, let his gaze move over you, over the case in your hands, over Baizhu, over Aether and Paimon, and the expression on his face did not show surprise so much as a mild, quiet interest.

«I take it I have arrived in the middle of a conversation.»

You looked at him in exactly the way of someone who was both glad to see him and already aware that the next ten seconds were going to be terrible.

«That would be one way to put it.»

To Baizhu’s credit, he intervened at exactly the right moment:

«I suspect the misunderstanding is that the Traveler and Paimon helped your wife recover something she had misplaced and, out of kindness, walked her to the meeting point, only to find me here first.»

The pause was short. And absolutely devastating.

Paimon slowly, very slowly turned toward Zhongli.

«Your... what?»

Zhongli looked at her with the same calm attentiveness he usually reserved for people who asked questions to which, in his opinion, the answer had already been given.

«My wife,» he said, as though that really did settle everything.

Aether put a hand over his face.

Paimon made a sound in which defeat, horror, delight, and the feeling that the world had once again done something behind her back were all mixed together.

«NO. NO, WAIT. FIRST IT WAS BAIZHU, AND THAT WAS ALREADY TOO MUCH, AND NOW YOU TOO?!»

You laughed then, no longer even trying to hold it back.

«I’m sorry. I probably should have said his name immediately, but then it would have sounded too strange.»

«Too strange?!» Paimon threw up her hands. «Paimon has just lived through an entire extra life in one minute!»

Zhongli, however, looked like a man for whom there was nothing especially dramatic in any of this. He stepped up to you, briefly touched your wrist with his fingertips as though checking at once whether all was well, and only then took the case from your hands.

«It seems it was recovered after all.»

«Yes. And only thanks to them,» you said, nodding toward Aether and Paimon. «If not for them, I would have arrived empty-handed and with a very foolish explanation.»

«Then I suppose I owe you thanks twice over,» Zhongli said, turning now to them. «For your help, and for bringing her here without unnecessary trouble.»

«Paimon does not know how to respond to politeness from a man who has apparently been secretly married this whole time.»

«I do not believe the word “secretly” is quite appropriate here,» Baizhu observed gently, and by now he was clearly enjoying the scene. «It would be more accurate to say that the information was simply not requested in time.»

Paimon whipped around toward him.

«Please don’t let both of you start.»

Aether laughed quietly now, already understanding that resistance was pointless. What was worse than the first shock was how natural you and Zhongli looked together. Not like a sudden romantic revelation, but like a long-settled, adult, quietly rooted closeness in which nothing needed to be proven aloud. That struck far harder than any formal confession could have.

«Tell me honestly,» he said to Zhongli. «Were you ever planning to mention this at all?»

Zhongli inclined his head slightly.

«If a conversation had reached the relevant subject, naturally.»

«So no,» Paimon translated darkly.

«So I saw no reason to introduce it without relation to circumstance.»

«You have a far too calm answer for everything.»

«I try not to spend good answers on fuss.»

You looked at him with that quiet, almost domestic amusement that, one sensed, had appeared more than once in response to this very kind of line.

«You see?» you said. «I told you he was impossible to explain briefly.»

Baizhu handed Zhongli the small parcel that, apparently, had been the reason for all of this in the first place, wished you all a good evening, and, giving Paimon one final look of entirely too much understanding, left her to deal with the full scale of the disaster on her own.

«No, this is not even fair,» she said more quietly now, though no less sincerely. «First Paimon almost believed Baizhu was your husband, and that was already too much, then it turned out he wasn’t, and somehow that was a relief, and then the real husband arrived, and it was Zhongli. This is a horribly organized evening.»

«On the contrary,» Zhongli replied calmly. «I would say everything unfolded with perfect consistency.»

«Please stop.»

You were already struggling not to laugh, and Aether, looking at the two of you, realized that, just as before, surprise was beginning to give way to something else — to the sense of another person’s life, one that had been fully real all this time, simply beyond the reach of his notice. And now that they had accidentally stepped into it, there was no deception in it, no awkward scandal. Only very late knowledge.

«If you like,» you said more warmly, «you may walk a little farther with us. I imagine after an introduction like this you still have too many questions simply to part ways.»

«Too many is putting it mildly,» Paimon muttered. «But Paimon agrees. Because if we leave right now, she is going to spend the next week being angry at all of Liyue at once.»

«Then it would be better to choose a proper tea and a more suitable place,» Zhongli observed, taking Baizhu’s parcel in one hand and your purchases in the other with the kind of ease that suggested he had repeated the motion hundreds of times before. «A random street is not the ideal setting for a conversation that deserves time.»

And so the four of you walked on together — through the evening harbor, where the lamps were being lit, where people carried home purchases and supper, where some were already settling down for tea while others were only just descending toward the water. And in the middle of all that calm, ordinary Liyue life, there was something especially funny and especially alive in the fact that the Traveler and Paimon had, by sheer accident, first nearly mistaken Baizhu for your husband, lived through that version of events right up to the edge of emotional collapse, and then met the truth, which turned out to be quieter, more natural, and somehow several times stronger.

In Liyue, everything held together on habit just as firmly as it did on stone, and that was why returning there always felt less like a change and more like falling back into something that had been waiting for you in its old form. The harbor lived evenly, confidently, without unnecessary hurry: ships came and went, the rising streets already carried warm air from tea houses and kitchens, merchants argued no louder than business required, and people, as always, moved with that particular sense of belonging that is rarely found elsewhere. After long roads through other nations, Aether felt that difference especially sharply. In Liyue, no one was in a rush to prove to the world that they were living correctly. They simply lived.

Paimon, being far less inclined toward calm contemplation, still managed to enjoy the place in her own way. She kept looking around with such lively interest that one would think she had come here for the first time, although, judging by her enthusiasm, the chief cultural treasure of the harbor remained food rather than history, architecture, or centuries of commercial power.

«Paimon is warning you in advance: if we run into Mr. Zhongli and he starts saying something beautiful about tradition again, only to somehow casually forget his wallet afterward, Paimon is not paying.»

«So I’ll be paying.»

«And who else? Paimon is a victim of circumstance.»

Aether only smiled. They had just come down from the upper street toward the busier part of the harbor, where by evening there were often even more people than in the daytime. Some were buying things for home, some were looking for a place to have dinner, some lingered in front of the displays of porcelain, jewelry, rare fabrics, and small things in which Liyue excelled at joining dignity to daily life. Paimon had already managed to stop at two dessert stalls, one cart selling grilled fish, and a woman with candied fruit, and now, slightly fed and therefore relatively peaceful, seemed ready even for conversation.

They did not notice Zhongli immediately. Or rather, first Aether heard his voice — steady, deep, unhurried, the sort that never lost its shape even in the noise of the harbor. It came from the direction of a stall selling porcelain and tea ware, and it held the calm of a man who is not in the habit of speaking idly.

«If it is that particular set you mean, then it would be worth paying attention to the firing. The pattern has been applied skillfully enough, but the body is coarser than it first appears. For a gift, perhaps, it would do, though for the home I would choose something more durable.»

Paimon slowed at once and turned in that direction.

«Oh no. He’s already advising someone as though he’d been asked to do it from birth.»

Zhongli stood by the stall exactly as he always did, as naturally as if there were no more fitting place for him to be at that moment. Beside him, the shopkeeper fussed, clearly flattered by the attention of such a respected connoisseur, while Zhongli himself held the lid of a tea caddy with the air of a man considering not a household object, but a worthy example of craftsmanship. He wore his usual attire, immaculate on him as always, and, as always, looked like a man who had no need whatsoever to try in order to leave an impression.

Aether was already about to call out to him, but Paimon was faster.

«Mr. Zhongli!»

Zhongli turned, and at once there appeared on his face that calm, gentle recognition which, with him, was the closest thing to a greeting.

«Traveler. Paimon. It has been some time. Judging by your appearance, the road this time was not an easy one.»

«That’s putting it very mildly,» Paimon declared, already floating closer. «But Paimon is more interested in something else right now: did you really come here just to look at tea caddies, or are you actually planning to buy something?»

«Today — to buy,» he answered without the least embarrassment. «Although looking at such things is useful as well. The longer one studies them, the more clearly one sees how much labor is hidden in them, labor that does not try to throw itself into view.»

«Paimon does not know how you do this. Even when you’re talking about a lid from a little jar, it sounds like life wisdom.»

Zhongli smiled faintly.

«In many cases, that is exactly what it is.»

The shopkeeper, meanwhile, had already grown fully encouraged. He began pulling out one set after another, asking Zhongli to look, to judge, to give his opinion. Paimon watched this for a while with rising amusement, then whispered to Aether:

«See? This is exactly what a man looks like when he “just happened to stop by for a minute,” and now he’s going to spend half an hour here, choose three things, explain the history of each, and then still somehow end up without money.»

Aether gave the slightest huff of laughter. Very quickly, however, it became clear that this time things were unfolding differently. Zhongli was not selecting things out of idle interest alone. He was a little more attentive than usual to questions of practicality, clarified several times with the shopkeeper how well one type of glaze held heat, whether another shape of teapot would be easy to clean, and even asked to be shown carrying boxes, which in itself suggested a rather definite purpose.

«Have you decided to take tea more seriously?» Aether asked, once the shopkeeper had gone off to fetch yet another version of a teapot stand.

«Not exactly,» Zhongli replied calmly. «It is not for me alone.»

Paimon at once became alert.

«Wait. What do you mean, “not for you alone”?»

«In the most straightforward sense. I promised to choose a few things for home, though I must admit that without another pair of eyes it has turned out to be more difficult than I expected.»

Aether cast him a brief glance. The wording itself was entirely ordinary, but something in it had already caught at his ear. Not the word “home,” of course, but the tone in which Zhongli had said it. Too natural. Not quite like a man living alone and simply improving his surroundings. More like someone who really did think of home as something more than a place.

Paimon, for better or worse, caught on even faster.

«Hold on. “Choose a few things for home” — for whom?»

«For my wife, mainly,» Zhongli replied with the same calm as if he were speaking of tea leaves. «She has good taste, though in this part of the harbor I am somewhat better oriented than she is.»

The silence that followed was so sudden and so complete that even the surrounding noise of the street seemed to step back for a moment.

Paimon stopped dead in the air.

Aether blinked.

Zhongli, noticing the pause, looked at them with that same polite attentiveness he usually showed when a conversation partner seemed to lose the thread in the middle of something perfectly comprehensible.

«Is something the matter?»

«Something...» Paimon finally found her voice, though only partially. «Sorry, Paimon thinks she may have heard that wrong.»

«Unlikely,» said Zhongli.

«No, wait. Wait. Let’s not do this in that calm tone of yours, it is only making this worse. You said — for your wife?»

«Exactly so.»

«So...» Paimon whirled toward Aether, then back to Zhongli. «You have a wife?!»

«I do.»

«AND YOU SAY IT AS IF WE’RE DISCUSSING THE WEATHER FOR TOMORROW?!»

«That would not be an entirely precise comparison,» Zhongli observed. «The weather in Liyue is, as a rule, more predictable.»

Aether could not help it and laughed quietly, though he himself had not yet entirely processed what he had heard. The whole thing was so absurdly matter-of-fact that the shock only deepened because of it. Not “I have something important to reveal,” not “there is something you did not know,” but simply — for my wife. As though, for some strange reason, they should already have understood all of this long ago.

«Wait,» he said at last, now in earnest. «You’re married?»

«Yes.»

«For a long time?»

«Long enough that the question itself sounds somewhat belated.»

Paimon clutched her head.

«No, that’s it, Paimon is definitely going to sit down now. You mean you’ve been married this entire time, we’ve talked to you, gone places with you, had tea, listened to your lectures about relics, and not once did you think to say something like, “By the way, I have a wife”?»

«I do not think it would have been relevant in most of our conversations.»

«Of course it would have been relevant! It is always relevant!»

«I would disagree. For instance, while discussing contracts from the era of the Archons, the speaker’s marital status is rarely a determining factor.»

Paimon opened her mouth, but did not at once manage a reply. Aether, meanwhile, was beginning to feel not just amusement, but a growing curiosity. Because once the first shock was set aside, the news fit Zhongli in a strangely convincing way. Not externally, not in any simplistic sense, but inwardly. There had always been that closed, well-established part of life in him that he never put on display, not because he hid it, but because he saw no reason to hold it up for inspection.

«And where is your wife now?» he asked.

«Nearby,» Zhongli replied, turning his head slightly toward the street. «We arranged to meet here, though I suspect she stopped at the fabric stall. Or, more likely, at that small embroidery stand by the stairs. If we walk that way, I imagine the matter will resolve itself.»

«Wait, wait,» Paimon was still trying to catch up to the situation. «So what, we’re just... just going to meet your wife now? Just like that?»

«What would be unusual about that?»

«Everything.»

Zhongli looked at her with that mild patience of his that so often sounded more convincing than any direct objection.

«Paimon, if I am not mistaken, you have just complained of a lack of clarity. It seemed reasonable to me to clear up the misunderstanding immediately.»

«This is not a misunderstanding, this is... this is...»

«Late knowledge?» Aether suggested.

«This is horrifyingly late knowledge!»

The shopkeeper had just returned with yet another teapot stand, but apparently caught the mood of the moment, because he tactfully stepped back instead of trying to resume his porcelain triumph. Zhongli, meanwhile, concluded his purchase with the same composure with which he had just dismantled their evening. He chose two items, asked to have them wrapped carefully, and paid — which, naturally, forced Paimon to forget the marital revelation for a second.

«Oh. He paid himself.»

«It does happen from time to time,» Zhongli observed calmly.

«Paimon does not know which part of this is more surprising.»

They set off again, three of them now, or perhaps four, if one counted the tremendous piece of information that had joined their company and was now filling every pause. Liyue around them had not changed, and yet Aether suddenly found himself noticing more of the details that used to seem merely part of the city’s overall pattern: fabrics for the house, baskets of fruit, porcelain, small boxes of jewelry, spices, tea, all the little things one does not buy “in general,” but for someone in particular. And the thought that Zhongli, too, had long been living not in some abstract, almost museum-like quiet, but in a real home beside a person no one had known anything about, made the entire city feel slightly different.

Paimon remained silent for an astonishingly long time, which in itself already spoke to the scale of her inner collapse. But of course it could not last forever.

«All right,» she said at last, clearly having gathered herself for a new effort. «Paimon is going to ask a very important question. Does everyone know?»

«Who precisely is included in the category of “everyone”?»

«Well... someone. People in Liyue. Your acquaintances. Hu Tao, for example. Or Mr. Baizhu. Or... anyone!»

«Some do.»

«And who exactly counts as “some”?»

«Those to whom it is known.»

Paimon made a sound of pure suffering.

«He is mocking us.»

«I do not think intentionally,» Aether observed, though he himself was only barely containing a smile.

«I am not mocking anyone. I am merely trying to answer precisely.»

«Precision is not always a virtue when it makes Paimon want to fall into the sea.»

Zhongli glanced toward the harbor, where the late light was already turning golden beyond the roofs.

«I suspect you will not, in fact, fall into the sea. Besides, we are nearly there.»

They passed a flight of steps, turned into a quieter street where there was less noise and more of the sort of shops not frequented by random passersby. Here they sold fine fabrics, silk ribbons, delicate embroidery, hair ornaments, small carved boxes, and all manner of things people rarely bought in haste. Aether was already beginning to suspect that it was no accident Zhongli had led them here.

You were standing by a stall under the shade of an awning, so he did not notice you at once. First he saw only the slight turn of the shopkeeper’s head, then the familiar movement of your hand as you adjusted the edge of a length of fabric, apparently checking its weave in the light. There was nothing ostentatiously luxurious about you, but in Liyue people knew how to look as though dignity required no display, and that quality was especially clear in you. You were choosing a ribbon, or perhaps trim for something at home, speaking to the shopkeeper quietly, without fuss, and there was in it that calm which comes only to someone long accustomed to living not alone.

Zhongli slowed before calling to you, and in his face there came a very slight, but unmistakable change. No one from the outside would likely have called it dramatic. He did not smile more broadly, did not visibly brighten, did not lose his composure. And yet the attention with which he looked at you was no longer the same attention he gave to Paimon, Aether, merchants, or the passing world. It was different — warm, old, familiar.

«It seems I was right,» he said as he approached. «You were delayed here after all.»

You turned, and from that look alone Paimon, it seemed, understood at last that all her worst suspicions were no fantasy. Your face showed not surprise at seeing someone familiar, but the natural, domestic recognition of a person long accustomed to his presence. The sort of simplicity that does not appear in a week and is not performed for effect.

«Because last time you said that darker silk would be too heavy for summer curtains, so I decided to see whether there was anything lighter. It seems you were right.»

«That happens rather more often than I am sometimes allowed to point out.»

In your voice, on those words, there was such a light, quiet touch of teasing that Aether lowered his eyes almost out of respect for the intimacy he had stumbled into. Paimon, by contrast, stared openly at the two of you in complete shock.

Only then did you notice that Zhongli was not alone.

«Oh...» You looked at Aether, then at Paimon, and on your face there was lively, sincere surprise, entirely free of performance. «Is it really the Traveler and Paimon?»

«YES, IT IS US,» Paimon replied immediately, still too loudly because she had not yet recovered from the blow. «And you... you...»

Zhongli, it seemed, understood that if left unchecked Paimon would either seize up or start speaking even louder, and so he stepped in with the same matter-of-fact clarity with which he had already once dismantled their evening.

«Allow me to introduce you. This is my wife.»

No theatrical pause. No attempt to prepare the listener. No “you may be surprised.” Simply — this is my wife.

Paimon clapped both hands over her mouth.

Aether, at least, managed to incline his head in greeting, though he himself had not yet recovered from the news.

«A pleasure to meet you,» he said, and his voice held the most honest version of composure he could manage. «I must admit, for us this has been... unexpected.»

You looked at Zhongli, and almost immediately understood everything important. Not the details of the earlier conversation, of course, but its outcome — easily enough.

«So that is why you decided to choose the tea caddy yourself and take your time coming back,» you said to him, and there was no reproach in your tone, only the understanding of someone very familiar with his particular way of handling surprises. «You simply mentioned it in passing?»

«I would not call it chance. More that the conversation happened to arrive at the relevant subject.»

«Paimon absolutely would call it chance!»

You could not help smiling slightly, and, strangely enough, that only hit Paimon harder than anything else. Because it was no longer about the fact itself — wife. It was about how naturally you stood beside him, how habitually he held the wrapped purchases for you, how calmly the conversation moved between you in a way that contained more shared life than one could hide behind restraint.

«Please forgive us if this puts you in an awkward position,» you said. «I do not think any of us expected the introduction to happen in quite this way.»

«Awkward?!» Paimon finally found her voice again. «Paimon would use a different word! Although... although actually...» She faltered, looked at you more carefully, and, to her own annoyance, softened a little. «You are very lovely. That only makes this harder.»

«I am glad at least it does not make it worse.»

«No, it does that too! Because now Paimon truly does not know what to do with the fact that Mr. Zhongli has apparently been... well... a husband.»

Zhongli inclined his head slightly.

«I remain the same person I was before this minute.»

«Yes, but now it sounds completely different!»

«Interesting,» he observed. «Though, if one is being strict, only your knowledge has changed. Reality itself has not.»

«This is the second person in our life who has done this to us,» Aether murmured under his breath.

You, clearly, caught the general meaning, though not the full context. For a moment there was a flicker of lively curiosity in your expression, but you did not ask unnecessary questions, for which Aether felt oddly grateful.

The shopkeeper, who had spent the whole time trying not to stare too openly but had obviously heard enough to retell everything to at least two neighboring stalls later, chose that moment very conveniently to wrap the ribbon you had selected and hand it over. Zhongli accepted the parcel with complete naturalness, as though he had done so a hundred times before.

«Then I suppose the matter of the fabric may be considered settled,» he said to you. «And I did, in fact, take the tea caddy you pointed out last time. It will suit better.»

You looked at him with that soft, almost domestic attentiveness that held both grateful understanding and long-practiced familiarity with his wordless care.

«I thought that in the end you would choose exactly that one.»

«You know me too well.»

«Fortunately.»

Paimon froze again, stunned now not by the revelation itself, but by everything that came after it. Because standing before her was not “secretive Mr. Zhongli with a hidden private life,” but a fully established, adult, quietly rooted married closeness. And that, perhaps, struck hardest of all.

«All right,» she said at last, letting out a heavy breath. «Paimon officially admits it: this sounds, looks, and generally feels far too... real. And that only makes it worse.»

You laughed then, softly and very naturally.

«Worse, I am afraid, is only temporary. News like this usually just needs a little more time to settle in the mind.»

«Paimon is going to need a lot of time.»

⠀