Chapter Text
It’s a beautiful day outside when Zhongli steps out of the funeral parlour for lunch. Well, the hour of break is termed as lunch, but he hasn’t partaken in any meals ever since Childe left for his business trip this week, and does not plan on doing so until he returns. Childe’s absence has a peculiar effect of making his meals taste less palatable than usual.
In the meantime, Zhongli does not wish to disrespect the good chefs of the harbour by being unable to finish his food. He has taken to long walks down the commercial street of Feiyun Slope to pass the time, and it is on one such walk that he first encounters it.
A pushcart parked at the foot of a staircase, run by a Snezhnayan merchant. Perhaps it’s due to the person of his longing, or perhaps it is mere curiosity, but Zhongli gravitates towards the cart and is drawn in by its spread of wares.
“Welcome, sir,” greets the merchant in a thick accent. “I am a travelling merchant, bringing only the finest and authentic goods from my homeland.”
Zhongli picks up a wooden comb, admiring its elegant carving and polish. “These are exquisite.”
“You have a good eye, sir. Take your time to look around.”
As if on autopilot, Zhongli starts to pick out a few items that catch his interest. A brooch in the shape of a narwhal, studded with sapphires and diamonds. A wooden fox carving complete with a crocheted crimson scarf. A commemorative coin bearing the silhouette of a figure dressed in a heavy winter coat.
He blinks, as though emerging from a trance. Ah. One way or another, all of these items inadvertently remind him of Childe. As much as he is embarrassed to admit it, it’s probably the reason why they caught his eye in the first place. He pinches the bridge of his nose and shakes his head. If his husband were here, he would have one hand leaning on Zhongli’s shoulder as he laughed himself hoarse, asking if he really missed him so much.
(He did. He still does. From the first break of dawn when he opens his eyes to see the vacant spot on the bed next to him, and to the darkening midnight when he falls asleep dreaming of his chin tucked into the crook of a freckled shoulder.)
A jolt runs through him when he looks up to see the merchant staring his way with passionate intensity. He sets down his liquor tin slowly.
“The Eleventh Harbinger,” the merchant barks. “What is his name?”
“Tartaglia?” Zhongli answers, confused.
“And his code name?”
“Childe.”
“And his birth name?”
He pauses. “I’m not sure I am allowed to divulge such information.”
“Good answer. That was a trick question, actually. No one knows the answer.” the merchant strokes his beard. “What is his specialty dish?”
“A prize catch.”
“When is his birthday?”
“July twentieth.”
“What is his constellation?”
“Monoceros Caeli,” answers Zhongli without a hitch. He may be unprepared for the sudden interrogation, but he does not need preparation to recite everything about his beloved on command.
The merchant looks impressed. “Very good. You pass with flying colours. This must mean that you are one of us.”
“...one of us?” Zhongli repeats.
“One of us,” he affirms. He extends a hand that Zhongli reaches to shake, but the merchant only presses a silver namecard into his palm. “Take this invitation as a great honour. Only the most dedicated can be part of this sacred event.”
“If I may politely ask…”
The merchant shushes him, smacking the side of his pushcart. With a series of mechanical whirrs, it collapses and folds into a briefcase that he picks up without fanfare. It is generously decorated with what appears to be stickers of the Eleventh Harbinger’s mask and badge.
The merchant begins to take his leave, then stops.
“Remember. Speak to no one about this,” he warns, adjusting his hat. “There will be…uninvited trouble if word gets out.”
Zhongli watches him go, ruminating over how this must be one of the strangest encounters he has ever experienced. Once the merchant has become enveloped in the surge of the afternoon crowd, Zhongli opens his palm to study the mysterious card left to him.
Zhongli reads the card once, twice, and then thrice for good measure. He does not quite understand. Has he been invited to some sort of secret cult? One that revolves around his husband, no less?
————
He tries to gather more information. Of course, he does so discreetly, contacting only those who can be trusted. This way, he won’t be going against the merchant’s warning, and as an added bonus, he’ll leave some evidence of his whereabouts in case he mysteriously disappears in a foreign land.
His investigations take him to Northland Bank. Ekaterina bows as he enters. “Good afternoon, mister Zhongli. My apologies, but no letters from our Lord Harbinger have arrived yet.”
“That is fine. I am here regarding other matters today.” he slides the invitation card across the counter. Behind her mask, Ekaterina’s expression is unreadable. “Do you know anything about this?”
She carefully picks up the card, inspecting it from all sides like a true professional. It’s clear that she is not a simple bank receptionist.
“Premium paper from the forests of Snezhnaya,” she observes. “Hm. Its scent and colouring indicates no traces of poison. Your life is not in mortal danger as of now.”
“That is reassuring to hear,” says Zhongli.
“As for its writing, hm. ‘XIFC’...I have never heard of such an organisation, even in Snezhnaya’s underworld. This means that it’s either harmless or unfathomably dangerous. I highly recommend not to follow through with this invite.” she pushes the card back to him. “The meeting point itself is already suspicious. They are very likely to escort you someplace else, with the true location of the event concealed.”
“I see.” he bows. “Thank you for your valuable insight.”
“Are you going, mister Zhongli? You might cause worry for Master Childe.”
Zhongli offers a reassuring smile. “Do not worry, miss Ekaterina. I can look after myself just fine.”
She relents with a small sigh. “Then allow me to arrange a ship to Snezhnaya for you. It’s the least we can do for our Harbinger’s partner. I will also instruct one of the guards to escort you to the meeting point, in case someone tries something funny.”
“Thank you for your generosity. I will be at the docks as soon as I have my baggage ready.”
“Shall I also send word to Master Childe that you will be travelling to Snezhnaya?” Ekaterina asks.
“Yes. Actually, no. I changed my mind.” he nods to himself. “I wish for my arrival to be a surprise.”
“Understood. Safe travels, mister Zhongli. I hope your reunion goes smoothly.” Ekaterina bids him farewell before the doors swing shut behind him.
Now to prepare for his very long and cold journey to the wintry lands up north. It will be worth the trip. Childe has an incredibly poor poker-face, and Zhongli is rather excited to see what kind of expression he will make when he shows up unannounced on his front door. There is also, of course, the matter of the cult meeting that he has obtained a shiny invitation to.
He has a feeling that this will be an interesting couple of weeks.
————
The Fatui’s naval ship does an admirable job of smashing through the ice-encrusted waters of Snezhnaya. Once docked, Zhongli disembarks the gangway with his luggage in hand, flanked by two watchful Fatui agents. They seem to be actively scanning their surroundings for any sign of suspicious activity while Zhongli wanders about the port, searching for the meetup spot as indicated on the invite.
He catches sight of a whistling man leaning against a lamppost. He is dressed modestly like any other civilian, but only those who know what they are looking for will notice the corner of the invite card peeking out from his breast pocket. He must be the escort.
Zhongli steps up to him and extends a hand. “Greetings. You must be a member of the organisation known as XIFC?”
The man’s eyes widen. It’s not clear if it is because he had not expected to meet a foreigner, or the two Fatui agents glaring at him from Zhongli’s back. Likely the latter.
He begins to reach for Zhongli’s hand. “I—yes. Welcome to Snezhnaya, it must have been a long journey—”
“Halt!” one of the agents lunge forward. The man shrieks. “Refrain from touching our client before we frisk you for concealed weapons.”
The other agent rounds up on the terrified man and pats him down. “Clear. You may proceed.”
The man has gone significantly paler when he finally shakes Zhongli’s hand. “...haha, I say, these are some interesting company you keep. You must be a person of high profile…not that I’m judging!” he pulls back with his arms raised. “We have all sorts of people from all over. You’ll fit right in.”
Zhongli hums, tilting his head. “And I’m assuming you’re here to take me to your base?”
“Base?” the man blinks owlishly. “Ah yes, the clubhouse. You must be awfully excited…well, I can’t blame you. I myself have been counting down since last July, aha! The chest harness, am I right? I’ll just help you put this on now…” he brings out a blindfold.
The agents are on him before Zhongli can stop them. He winces as the man is pinned face-down onto the icy floor with hands wrenched behind his back.
“What do you think you’re doing, scoundrel?” Agent A snarls.
Agent B returns to Zhongli’s side and drops into a hasty bow. “With all due respect, mister Zhongli, we urge you to call off this arrangement immediately. If anything should happen to you, our Lord Harbinger will have our heads!”
The escort’s head snaps up as if suddenly revitalised, a gleam in his eyes. “Harbinger? Did you say harbinger? Which harbinger, may I ask—”
Agent A knocks him back into the ground. “Silence!”
“Worry not. There are no threats to my being that I cannot handle, and I am sure Childe is well aware of that fact—”
The escort abruptly spasms off the ground and manages to elbow the agent in the nose. He scuttles up to Zhongli and clutches desperately at his pants. “Childe?! Did you just say Childe? The Childe? The Eleventh Harbinger, Tartaglia?”
Zhongli tries not to be alarmed by the burning mania in his eyes. He wonders if he should consider his next words carefully. “I did.”
“You are acquainted with Tartaglia himself?” the escort leaps onto his feet and shakes his hand at light speed. “Why didn’t you say so sooner? My name is Gennady. From here on, mister, I think we will be the best of friends.”
A hand plants down on Gennady’s shoulder. Agent A, clutching his bleeding nose, looks murderous. “Unhand mister Zhongli at once…!”
“From here on, this is XIFC business. Government lapdogs should butt out of this!” to everyone’s surprise, Gennady unleashes an impressive roundhouse kick that sends the agents staggering back. He turns around and offers Zhongli his palm. “Here, best friend. They do not understand our glorious vision. Come with me and I will show you people who do.”
Agent B throws his hand out. “Don’t do it, mister Zhongli!”
Curiosity is one of the mortal temptations that Zhongli finds especially hard to resist. And falling for Childe has made him more endeared to what is wild, brazen and spontaneous in life, thrilling antitheses to his own steady, unwavering sailboat of an existence.
He takes Gennady’s hand and they run into the pine forest together. There, he brings out the blindfold and securely fastens it around Zhongli’s eyes, before spinning him in seemingly random circles. It seems as though the objective is to disorient his senses such that he will not know which direction they are headed. It might very well work if he was human.
“I’m really sorry about this, my friend, but this is a preventive measure that all first-time attendees are subjected to,” Gennady tells him, steering him through the forest. “You see, some people enjoy posing as one of us and making unhelpful comments about our choice of lifestyle. They sure have lots of time on their hands, don’t they? Anyway…once you have earned our trust, we’re more than happy to give you the directions to the clubhouse.”
“I see,” says Zhongli. For a cult, they are surprisingly considerate. They trudge through the snow for a few more minutes, and Zhongli thinks he can hear something akin to music in the distance.
“Sorry for the wait. Here we are!” the blindfold is taken off him. They have arrived at a modest establishment in the middle of the woods. There are no windows, but the red and orange fairy lights adorning its snow-covered roof make the building look almost cozy. The door handle is distinctively narwhal shaped.
Gennady throws open the door before Zhongli can prepare himself.
“People, I have a big announcement!” he sweeps a hand out. “We have a new member, and he’s personally acquainted with Tartaglia!”
While gasps and screams sound from all around, Zhongli is more distracted by the sight of Childe staring down at him from virtually every surface in the room. It’s not a complete exaggeration. There are posters of him plastered to every wall, ranging from Fatui recruitment posters to product advertisements to wanted posters, and even what seems to be a billboard decal spread across the ceiling, featuring Childe with his damp shirt half-open.
“Ah. So this is what a cult looks like on the inside.” Zhongli puts a thoughtful hand to his chin. He can’t quite take his eyes off the sweat-slicked abs looming over him like a heavenly visage.
“A cult? How rude!” Gennady protests. “We’re a fanclub! It literally says so in our name.”
At the look of non-understanding on Zhongli’s face, he gestures towards the plaque on the door. “XIFC? The Eleventh Fan Club?”
“The first two letters are roman numerals,” someone says helpfully. “More importantly, get over here.”
He’s unwittingly dragged onto a couch piled with cushions of Childe’s face, each with a different shockingly debauched expression. It’s starting to feel more and more like a fever dream. Before he can doubt his Adeptal constitution and check his temperature, a crowd has amassed around him.
“You know Tartaglia? Really?”
“How do you know him? Where did you meet him?”
“What do you talk about?”
“What’s his blood type?”
It seems wise not to reveal more than strictly necessary. “We were business partners for a short month or two. Nothing more.”
The crowd booes, drawing away much to Zhongli’s relief.
“He’s lying,” someone says.
“Oh, he’s definitely lying.” someone affirms. “But fine. He can keep his secrets—it’s more fun that way.”
Zhongli nervously arranges his collar. He has never known that a ‘fanclub’ could be so similar to a den of rifthounds. It is rather unnerving.
Gennady, up on a make-shift stage, calls for their attention with a confetti popper. “Ladies and gents! Now that we’re all here, I humbly welcome you to Sword of Torrents, a week-long event celebrating the countdown to Tartaglia’s birthday!”
Applause and whistles sound out around him. People are either waving lightsticks of blue and purple or clutching each other’s hands in tearful ecstasy. Zhongli lifts a hand to his chin in understanding. So this is the true purpose of this gathering—how fascinating.
“A series of games have been planned by yours truly to kickstart the festive atmosphere,” Gennady continues. “Winners this year can stand to win not one, not two, not three, but seven pieces of Tartaglia merchandise—one for each day! Look closely now, for I am about to reveal today’s exclusive prize…”
He clears his throat and claps his hands. A club member solemnly ascends the stage with a velvet cushion in their hands, coming to a stop beneath the spotlight. The audience straighten their backs for a closer look.
“...A Tartaglia TCG card!” Gennady announces.
He earns a few ‘oohs’ and ‘ahhs’ from the crowd. If Zhongli remembers correctly, TCG is the game of cards that has taken the nations by storm with its beautifully illustrated deck and thrilling mechanics. Director Hu has challenged him to a match on several occasions, evidently getting a kick out of watching him lose repeatedly to Liyue’s TCG tournament finalist. He had indulged her whims all the same.
“But not just any Tartaglia TCG card,” Gennady pauses for dramatic effect. “A holographic, lenticular, autographed Tartaglia card, with only one copy in existence!”
The crowd goes wild. Zhongli calmly maintains his seat while those around him leap to their feet and scream, but his hands curl into fists on his lap. He wants it. Perhaps he has never wanted anything more in his life.
The shine on the card is impeccable. Its iridescent sheen enthrals mankind. And perhaps the most beautiful aspect is Childe’s sloping signature, and the playful winking face he doodled at the bottom of it.
“One lucky person can walk away with this beauty today, if they emerge victorious in our Tartaglia Trivia Quiz, master edition! Now, a show of hands to indicate your participation!”
Every hand shoots up at once. That is, until a woman dressed in a grey cloak raises hers. Her hand alone seemingly intimidates everyone else to lower theirs, sparking a murmur of dissent amongst the group.
“Not Natalia again,” someone groans. “How can anyone even stand a chance against her?”
The person next to Zhongli nudges him. “Listen up, newbie. That’s Natalia, and she’s been the undefeated champion of Tartaglia’s Number 1 Fan for five consecutive years now. You better back out now and save your energy.”
“Is that so?” he arches a brow.
“Some of us think that she must be Tartagli’s secret lover. There’s no other way someone can know so much about him, don’t you think?”
“Lover?” asks Zhongli, bemused. He’s unable to curb his impish smile as he rises to face her, unconsciously twisting the golden band on his ring finger. “Now I simply have to see for myself how she earned such a peculiar title.”
“Oh? We finally have a challenger!” Gennady announces, delighted. “Will our newest Liyuen friend finally dethrone Natalia? Or will he suffer a humiliating defeat like the rest of us? The floor is yours!”
He bows and steps aside as Zhongli and Natalia take centre stage.
“First, shake hands to declare good sportsmanship!”
They shake hands. Natalia’s grip is ice-cold and unforgiving.
“You who dare challenge me,” she hisses. “I will crush you.”
“There is unfortunately no such outcome,” he simply says, which serves to infuriate her further.
“Oho! The competition is heating up! Now, let’s quickly run through the rules. There are a hundred questions, and as you all know, all answers are pure speculation, or as we like to call ‘headcanons’ that will be deemed canon! or trash! by my powers of intuition.” Gennady wags a finger. “Without Tartaglia here, we simply have no way of confirming these answers after all!”
“Your point system seems a little baseless,” Zhongli points out.
“Worry not, best friend, my intuition is always correct when it comes to lord Tartaglia. Now enough talk! Question one—does Tartaglia prefer coffee or tea?”
“Coffee,” Natalia answers.
“Tea,” Zhongli answers.
Gennady holds up a red card at Zhongli. “Coffee is canon.”
While Zhongli reels at this, Natalia smirks at him. “He likes his coffee with two sugars and milk, in fact.”
Gennady nods. “You have to love how Natalia goes into the specifics!”
Zhongli frowns. “Respectfully, that is simply untrue. Tartaglia has always enjoyed the blends I recommended to him during our business lunches.”
Not to mention, Childe has never said gone without the cup of tea Zhongli brews him every morning. Before leaving for work, Zhongli will be able to taste the bittersweetness of it on his lips, as they exchange a leisurely kiss behind the closed door of their home.
Natalia shrugs. “He is impartial to it. However, he is undeniably a coffee person.”
Zhongli makes a mental note to clarify this with Childe later. He refuses to accept this piece of news from anywhere but the horse’s mouth.
“Next question. Does Tartaglia prefer sleeping with or without a blanket?”
“Without,” answers Natalia confidently.
“With,” answers Zhongli.
Gennady hands him a green card. “Canon!”
The crowd gasps audibly.
“ Explain ,” Natalia seethes.
“He enjoys the feeling of being swaddled from all sides,” says Zhongli, eliciting no less than ten tearful reactions from the crowd. “It makes him feel safe.”
Gennady has to stop and dab his eyes at this. “So, so canon. Now for the next question…ha, only ninety-seven left to go…!”
It is well into midnight when the game finally concludes. Natalia’s hair has turned dishevelled with the number of times she has run her fingers through in frustration, while Zhongli sips his fiftieth cup of tea no worse for wear from what most would call the most intense trivia match of all time.
Gennady has broken out in a fresh wave of tears as he shakes Zhongli’s hands. “Beautiful, mister Zhongli, truly beautiful! With your impressive arsenal of Tartaglia facts, there can be no better owner of Tartaglia’s TCG card than you.” he wipes a tear and presses the card into his hands. “Take him, you lucky bastard. Thank you for giving us a show tonight that we’ll never forget. Ninety- nine correct answers. Not even Natalia could beat that! And take this too, you’ve earned it.”
He gives him a palm-sized doll crafted in Childe’s likeness. With a large, round head and a delightfully small stubby body, Zhongli at once decides that it will be his newest prized possession.
“Now that you’re an official member of XIFC, you no longer require an escort to our premises,” Gennady tells him as he shows him to the door. “Use this map to find us, but beware of the wolf-bears in the woods; they tend to go on rampages during this time of the year. I trust that you’ll be here tomorrow for Day 2’s activities?”
Zhongli carefully stows mini-Childe into the inner pocket of his coat, along with Gennady’s map. He bows his head. “My promise is as solid as stone. I look forward to acquiring more Tartaglia-related paraphernalia from your fine establishment.”
“Oh, mister Zhongli,” swoons Gennady, “Your dedication to Tartaglia is beautiful. If my heart wasn’t dead-set on our beloved Eleventh Harbinger, I may be in love with you instead.”
————
When Zhongli returns to the port for the luggage that he has left behind, Agent A and B gawk at him as though seeing a ghost.
“M—mister Zhongli? You’re alive?” Agent B nearly weeps with relief. “Thank the Tsaritsa! I was almost about to defect from the Fatui instead of reporting to the Lord Harbinger that you went missing—”
“We attempted to chase after you and that foul abductor, but the woods are infested with wolf-bears,” Agent A says quickly. “How on Teyvat did you manage to return in one piece?”
Zhongli picks up his suitcases. “I encountered nothing but harmless wildlife on my way back, though they are rather large. Would either of you kindly give me the directions to Childe’s manor? It grows late, and I would like to be there before his return.”
The agents hurriedly procure a carriage and a horse, insisting on providing him with a ride although Zhongli can make his way over on foot just fine. Then again, perhaps ordinary mortals do not attempt to make a two-hour journey on foot, especially in the midst of a growing snowstorm.
“We have arrived, sir,” says Agent A, opening the carriage door and helping Zhongli down with a steady hand. A wrought iron gate stands before them, lit by a single lantern that trembles with the force of the winds. “Our Lord Harbinger’s manor is just up the hill. As mere foot soldiers, we are not allowed in his private estate. Please ring the bell and inform the servants that you have arrived.”
“I understand,” says Zhongli. “Thank you for sending me here. Goodnight.”
The agents send him one last worried look before flicking the reins and driving off. Zhongli dusts away the snow on a small area on the cobblestone steps and sits, wondering if Childe’s harbinger missions normally keep him up till this hour. Has he been getting enough sleep? Perhaps this is the reason why Childe’s cheeks are always paler and gaunter whenever he returns from his work trips.
A growing clatter of hooves and wheels rouse him from his reverie. Zhongli watches, unfazed, as the glow of a lantern illuminates a pair of horses rearing onto their hinds before him. The coachman shouts in alarm, trying to calm the horses. The carriage door flies open. Heavy boots land on the snow and a familiar voice asks sternly, “What’s going on?”
“Lord Harbinger, there appears to be an intruder at the gate—”
Zhongli calmly rises to his feet and dusts his coat. “Childe.”
Childe’s face instantly switches from a mask of cool authority into a look of genuine disbelief. His eyes widen, lips twisting into a giddy smile as he rushes up to Zhongli and takes his hands. “ Zhongli? How—when—what are you doing here? You’re freezing!”
Childe quickly rubs their palms together, unbuttoning his winter coat to bundle Zhongli into his body heat. Zhongli chuckles, nuzzling into the soft fur of his collar, arms instinctively reaching out to wind around Childe’s slender waist. “Worry not. My body is quite resilient even in these inhospitable temperatures. As for the reason why I’m here…shall we call it a surprise?”
Childe laughs, his cheeks flushed below the light of the lantern. “The best surprise there is. Come on, let’s go indoors already. How long have you been waiting outside?” his eyes narrow. “Did no one show you in?”
Zhongli squeezes his arm. “Your foot soldiers did, but I wanted for us to head in together.”
Childe sighs, his breath coming out as a puff of white mist. “I hope it’s worth it. Adeptus or not, I wouldn’t want anyone waiting out in the cold.”
They stop outside the door, lit lowly by the warm light spilling out of the windows. Zhongli picks up Childe’s hand and kisses the back of it. “It is worth it. I missed you.”
Childe’s hand twitches in his grasp. When he looks up through his lashes, Childe has closed the space between them and now speaks with his lips brushing against Zhongli’s. “I missed you too.”
Zhongli’s lips prickle and he presses forward with more force to seal their mouths together. Childe stumbles backwards against the door with his hands cupped around Zhongli’s face, sighing as they exchange nips and kisses. He snakes his hands into Childe’s coat, runs them down the length of his sides before settling them on the jut of his hips—
The door opens abruptly. They fall in a tangle of limbs onto the marble floor, and Zhongli quickly cushions Childe’s head with his hand before it can clack against the ground. Someone screams. He squints up at the piecing chandelier light to see a strangely familiar face. Where has he seen it?
“Uh. Hi…Nat.” Childe coughs awkwardly from where he’s lying pinned to the floor. “How long have you been standing there?”
“I. Saw. Everything,” the maid seethes. Her disdain is quite familiar too.
The back of Zhongli’s coat is unceremoniously yanked up with surprising force. A broomstick then promptly descends on his head several times in rapid succession. “Get off the young master, you—disgraceful—lecherous—man-ape!”
“Woah woah, it’s okay, Natalia!” Childe reaches past Zhongli to grab the broomstick. “I’m okay, I promise!”
“Young master, you were being brutally assaulted on the door of your own home!” she shrills, reclaiming her hold on her weapon. “As head maid, I will not stand for this…this…”
The recognition seems to sink in. The broomstick clatters out of her grip and rolls across the floor.
“ You. ” Natalia, head maid of Childe’s manor, 5th year undefeated bearer of the ‘ Tartaglia’s Number 1 Fan ’ title, and Zhongli’s newest nightmare, looks absolutely murderous.
Childe glances rapidly between them, his confusion palpable. “...you two know each other?”
Natalia’s expression does a complete one-eighty flip. She folds her hands before her and bows, the perfect image of a dutiful servant. “I apologise for my lack of manners, young master. I must have confused him for someone else.”
Zhongli dusts his coat down, clearing his throat. “Indeed. I have never met this lady in my life.”
He sees Natalia glaring at him in the corner of his eye. He meets her gaze unflinchingly, and sparks seem to fly between them.
Childe’s eyes narrow, unconvinced. “...right. Zhongli, this is Natalia, the head maid of the manor as you already know. If there’s anything you need, you can go straight to her. And Natalia, this is Zhongli, my husband.”
Zhongli can’t help a self-satisfied smile at the look of utter devastation and betrayal on Natalia’s face. She opens her mouth. Closes it. Looks everywhere around the hall but at Zhongli.
“Young master. You…you’re…married?!” she despairs.
Childe rubs the back of his head. The gold band around his ring finger glints. “Ahaha, yeah. About that, it’s actually supposed to be a secret, so we’d appreciate it if you didn’t reveal this to outsiders…?”
“No way.” Natalia drifts away like a lost ghost. “Not possible.”
Childe stares after her defeated back with a complicated expression. He then tugs on Zhongli’s sleeve petulantly. “Is the idea of me being a married man really so far-fetched? I’m marriage material, aren’t I?”
Zhongli laughs and pecks his forehead. “Baobei, of course you are. Only, some would have considered you as Snezhnaya’s most eligible bachelor, and I have effectively stolen you away from them all.”
His cheeks pink. “Oh. Hmm.”
A butler brings their luggages up to the master bedroom ahead of them. In the meantime, Childe helps Zhongli out of his coat and passes it to an attendant at the end of the hall.
“You must be tired from the trip,” says Childe, leading him by hand up the carpeted stairs. Before the landing hangs a massive portrait of the Tsaritsa, an icy sceptre in hand and white furs adorning her delicate neck. They turn left into a gilded hallway on the second floor, all white marble and polished floors. “Let’s take a bath and go to bed.”
The moment they enter the bathroom and lock the door shut, Childe sighs, reaching to loosen the scarf from his neck. Zhongli helps him with it, depositing it on a silver rack. They shuck off their shoes and peel off layers of their clothes until the chill pricks their bare skin and they seek refuge in the water’s warmth.
Zhongli shudders for the first time that day, the heat scalding but somehow not enough to drive away the cold. Childe sits on the opposite end of the tub, bracketed between Zhongli’s shins. He wets a hand-towel and gently lifts Zhongli’s foot, kneading the warmth back into his soles. “This is why I told you not to wait out in the cold, you old lizard.”
Zhongli laughs, leaning forward to smear some of his shampoo across Childe’s nose. He grimaces and sneezes, making Zhongli laugh harder. Water sloshes inelegantly from the sides of the tub as they jostle and trade pinches and kisses, until the fatigue of the day begins to set in. For a while, Childe lies pillowed sideways against his chest as Zhongli rubs a lock of his hair between his fingertips, perfectly content.
But soon Childe starts to complain about his fingers pruning, and Zhongli carries him out of the tub. In front of the foggy mirror, they take turns towelling each other dry, slipping on fluffy slippers and silk pyjamas. Then Childe bursts out of the bathroom doors and races Zhongli to the bedroom, where they land on the bed laughing breathlessly.
“I’ve never had so much fun in the manor before,” Childe admits, crawling over to the pillows and collapsing atop of them. “The servants do an amazing job of keeping this place comfortable, but well…it’s not exactly home, you know?”
“I’m enjoying myself as well,” says Zhongli, reaching for Childe’s hand. “I’m glad I was given the incentive to travel here. In retrospect, I should have done so a lot sooner.”
“Yeah? I’m glad.” Childe rolls onto his side, propping his chin on his palm. He pokes Zhongli’s nose. “Now, don’t get me wrong, xiansheng. I’m happy you came all this way to visit me, but why are you here really?”
As if on cue, there is a knock on their door. “Pardon the disturbance, sirs. I was taking Master Zhongli’s coat to the laundry room, but found, err, a few items in his pockets?”
Childe raises a brow at him. Zhongli clears his throat and leaves the bed to fetch the door. As he thought, he is passed the diminutive Childe doll and Childe’s TCG card, both of which he had momentarily forgotten in his coat after being able to embrace the real person. He catches the attendant’s eye from across the threshold.
“Between you and me, sir,” the attendant whispers. “I almost mistook these for Natalia’s. Keep them safe now; they look quite valuable.”
The door shuts gently behind him.
“What’chu you got there?” Childe asks, mid-yawn. “Is it another rock?”
Zhongli slides back under the covers and holds both pieces of merchandise for Childe’s examination. He blinks, then squints as if confused by what he is being shown.
“Is this a voodoo doll of me?” Childe flicks the forehead of mini-Childe, then feels his own forehead. “...are you mad that I forgot to wash the dishes before leaving for my trip?”
“I believe it is known as a ‘chibigurumi’, and yes, I was rather peeved but that is besides the point.” Zhongli gently bobs the doll from side to side. “Isn’t he endearing?”
Childe makes a face. “It’s a little creepy. Look at those unblinking, dead fish eyes.”
Zhongli gently pets the top of its head with a finger. “It’s my favourite part of him.”
“And what’s this?” Childe picks up the card from the bed, flapping it carelessly. “I didn’t know you were into collecting TCG cards. Is this a new expensive hobby of yours?”
“Not exactly.” Zhongli gently plucks it from Childe’s hand, and settles it on his chest with the doll like his newfound children. “I won it. Say, Ajax, do you know what a fanclub is?”
“W—what’s with this strange question all of a sudden?” Childe laughs nervously.
“Did you know that there are harbinger fanclubs?”
Childe clutches his pillow with a death-grip. His face has become strangely flushed. “Listen…if this is about IVFC, I swear it was just a phase when I was fourteen.”
Zhongli tilts his head. “Do you mean XIFC?”
“XIFC? What’s that?”
“The Eleventh Fan Club,” he says helpfully.
“The what .”
“As the name suggests, it is an organisation uniting Tartaglia fans from all over.” Zhongli shuts his eyes and inhales deeply. “I met many like-minded individuals there and thoroughly enjoyed myself. Goodnight, Ajax.”
“ Huh? What?” Childe tries to shake Zhongli awake but to no avail. “What do you mean there’s a fanclub of me? And you’re in it? Who else is there? Hey! I know you’re not actually asleep—Zhongli!”