Chapter Text
Ajax flicks his left wrist, hoping that the blood staining his gloves would slide away in a splatter of crimson onto the dew sweet grass below. It is for naught; the cloyingly rusted, saccharine liquid has dried under the sunshine of noon and the warm breeze in the air.
He’s been wiping away a lot of blood in the past week. There was nothing new to being splattered in warm blood from his usual bouts of battling, but Ajax hasn’t gotten used to wiping away blood that spilled from his own lips so often yet.
He exhales a stuttering breath into the gentle wind, the crimson dyed petals of a Silk Flower floating away as his lungs shrivel and strain. The breeze ghosting upon his skin usually felt refreshing and soothing, but today it feels like a lingering cloak of humidity. Ajax didn’t think he could feel so claustrophobic in such an open expanse of land like the grasslands of Liyue.
But he does.
He feels so small and crowded in by invisible walls boxing him in even as he stands amidst the open air with nothing but sparse trees dotting his surroundings with splashes of greens and reds. He wonders if his colleagues in the Fatui would even believe he was the Eleventh Harbinger from the way he has been acting lately; foolish and blind, all his power nothing but a red herring for the lost little boy within.
He has been feeling so out of control recently. He had hoped his recent behavior was just a result of being so distracted by the sights, scents, and sounds the Land of Commerce was always bustling with.
He had hoped his inexplicable affection for Liyue and its people was just the infatuation for a world and culture once unknown to him, full of nuanced speech and understated pride and subtle rules, and of course, a myriad of martial techniques passed down for generations to slake his fervor for exploring new ways to grow in strength.
He had hoped he was just imagining things, imagining that he was simply overwhelmed by him in all his ethereal beauty and his ramblings about any aspect of Liyuen culture and his Cor Lapis eyes and his impeccable posture and his soothing voice and—well, Ajax knew better now.
No amount of hope could hide the fact that he has fallen into the palms of a celestial creature once again. No amount of wishing otherwise could change the fact that Ajax has been wrapped around the finger of another Archon demanding, in expectant silence, his faith and loyalty even when he hasn’t got enough left to give.
Ajax feels so, so tired and clumsy and stupid and everything he has never wanted to be again after leaving the Abyss years ago with a newfound ache in his heart.
With heavy steps, his feet move languidly towards what was once his safe harbor in a distant land away from home with a brittle stretching of his lips in a smiling facade. Ajax was the one who destroyed this precious little haven by his own hands, following orders like a good little soldier, and yet he regrets.
The stares that follow his every move in the city, that once contained wary but friendly acceptance, now hangs upon his weary shoulders with unease and fearful suspicion.
It was an unspoken knowledge, or perhaps it was spoken where he could not hear them in fear of his retaliation, that he is the reason why so many people suffered during the battle in which the Liyue Qixing and Adepti fought with Osial.
Ajax doesn’t need to feel their distrustful gazes on him to remember vividly that Old Lady Jiang, who always had an extra steamed bun for him when he passed by her stall, lost her beloved grandson in the siege. He doesn’t need to look at the now empty space between two restaurants on the main street to know that he was the reason why Little Lian’er is now an orphan and that the restaurant her parents once operated had been crushed by falling debris, causing the loss of a long-standing family business that was opened in Liyue centuries ago. Ajax does not need to watch as the Millelith patrolled and worked past their usual hours, tirelessly working shifts alongside the people to repair the damage done to their city, to feel his chest tighten in audacious sympathy and know he is the reason.
He wishes that his punishment wasn’t so benign in comparison to his misdeeds. That all that was enforced upon him was merely monetary compensation as aid in rebuilding the once majestic city. Rarely did he ever feel himself undeserving of his title and power as one of Her Majesty’s Harbingers, but here in Liyue, in the aftermath, Ajax feels unworthy.
But perhaps Celestia knew his crimes were brushed off too lightly. Perhaps karma decided that Ajax getting off nearly scot-free, afforded by the virtue of his political protection, was impudent and inexcusable.
Now he is being strangled gradually by the depth of his despicable feelings towards someone he can never have, someone he has betrayed and who betrayed him. Perhaps this is the punishment awarded to his odious self, a blooming asphyxiation that would only lead to a sordid spectacle in the end.
The ocean-eyed man keeps the casual smile upon his face even as he reaches the steps of the Northland Bank and heads up to his office. He passes by the tense figures of his subordinates who scuttled about with stress lining their sombre faces and feels pity for their misplaced loyalty.
His people, those who followed the Eleventh Harbinger into a foreign land in pursuit of glory for Her Majesty the Tsaritsa’s sake, who now suffered from his careless actions. They didn’t say anything to him, even as shop owners refused to provide their services and as those that didn’t refuse the patronage of Snezhnayans hiked their prices astronomically. They didn’t say anything about their uncomfortable position as pariahs in the society they had grown to appreciate and belong in after years of living in harmony with the people.
Ajax wasn’t sure if it was due to their inability to trust in him, with his reputation in winning sanguinary battles as the Vanguard and not much else, or if it was due to their ingrained loyalty to the cause that silenced their voices.
Whichever the reason, he knows he would have to do something to fix the situation for them before his time was up.
Before he could enter the confined space of his office, Ekaterina calls out to him. Ajax turns and tilts his head at her, waiting for her report on whichever important matter she has deemed worthy of his attention.
“Lord Harbinger, are you alright?” The question catches him off guard and Ajax blinks in stupefied silence at the woman.
She stares back, concern etched upon the furrows of her brows. “You’re not injured, are you?”
Ajax notices her gaze was fixed on his face and realizes it was probably the bloody remains of his petal-laced coughing session out in the wilderness. He looks down at his shirt, noticing the dried streaks of red staining his clothes in a splatter. How careless of him to leave such evidence.
“Ah, Katya! No, no, I’m fine.” And to think, he had been walking around Liyue like a madman drenched in blood so obviously. It wouldn’t be a wonder if more rumours about his bloody reputation spreaded in the city after this. Well, it wasn’t an untruth. Even if prior to this, he had always endeavored to maintain a harmless air and kept his darker dealings to the night.
“But the blood…” she hesitates.
“It’s just blood from that one Treasure Hoarder. The idiot just had to mess up my debt collection by bleeding all over me. So inconsiderate, isn’t he?” His response is light and airy, spoken as if he were speaking of the weather during small-talk. It was callous to speak of someone’s death in such a cavalier manner, but it was expected. To show any sense of softness was to show weakness. It wouldn’t do for a Harbinger to be perceived as weak, after all. Not in Snezhnaya, not here.
Ekaterina nods. It was well known that Tartaglia tended to accomplish his work with nary a hair out of place, even after he had been fighting, but accidents do happen. She offers a gentle smile at her commanding officer, younger than her in years, but with eyes that were long darkened by his experiences.
“So, was there anything else, Katya?” Ajax inquires.
“Yes, Lord Harbinger. Here is a letter from the Zapolyarny Palace. It arrived this morning.” Ekaterina hands over a pale blue letter made of embossed paper and stamped with a red wax seal.
Ah, orders directly from the Tsaritsa it seems. Ajax feels dread creep up his chest. Is it time to return to Snezhnaya already? Will he have enough time to fix the issues holding his conscience down before leaving?
“Thank you, Katya. I’ll go read this and freshen up.” He narrows his eyes and lifts his lips into the same cheerful expression he always manufactured, waving the letter in his hand at her.
She acquiesces with his response and silent order to leave him be, turning back towards the main floor below. Ajax watches her leave, her posture prim and proper as it always was, her steady gait unaffected by the authority she wielded as his second-in-command.
He wonders if he could ever be as sure of himself as she always seemed. No, perhaps not. It was unlikely for him to ever possess the same kind of calm mien as Ekaterina.
He has never been one to stay still, always in search of his next target to triumph over, be it a new skill or a new opponent. His drive to challenge the limits of his own breakable self has always been his greatest value and the thing most likely to cause his end.
Or at least, it was, before a new fragile limit was imposed upon him with the stranglehold of the stems curled up in his lungs.
Ajax enters his office and sets the light letter down on the wide wooden table that held all his documents and stationery. He leans against the table; the smiling facade drops from his countenance.
Exhaustion sinks into his bones. A few short weeks ago, his life was still charted towards that main driving force in his life, to stand at the top of the world and bring Her Majesty’s enemies to their knees. And yet, now he will have to contend with a new goal before his gradual demise.
The auburn haired man wonders if his remaining time left in life would be enough to accomplish anything of worth, or if he will end up disappearing from the annals of history with a soft whisper of failure.
Ajax sighs and quits stalling himself from reading the letter. His thoughts would only spiral more into the hopelessness of the entire situation and he wouldn’t get anything done by the end of the day. Picking up the elegant letter, he cuts through the wax seal with a knife on his table and opens it up to read the single paged correspondence.
The letter was simple and short, likely written by Her Majesty’s personal scribe. Tartaglia has been ordered to remain in Liyue for another month in order to facilitate smooth operations for the Northland Bank before heading back to Snezhnaya to report to the Tsaritsa. Looks like La Signora in all her pompous grandeur has arrived at the Zapolyarny Palace and reported on his continued presence in Liyue after her successful acquisition of the Geo Archon’s Gnosis.
Oh, he thinks, there’s still some time left. I can fix things in Liyue for Andrei and the rest before I’m recalled back to the Tsaritsa’s side.
One more month. That is his deadline. But… does he actually have the luxury of living past another month? His condition has worsened. What was once light coughs shaken off and treated as a simple cold, was now bloody trails of petals following his every step whenever he had the privacy to break down into breath-stealing pain and choking gasps for air.
In his two-week long research of his disease, Ajax came across a single book with recorded stories of Hanahaki, the illness spoken of in Inazuman folklore and rarely appearing in reality, where it was foretold that those afflicted had a few months to years to live depending on the stage the disease was at.
While the reason behind why only certain individuals were afflicted was not recorded in the book, it was said that each stage would be distinct and clear, separated by the strength of the emotion the afflicted felt for their beloved. Hanahaki was a disease in which each stage would grow deadlier to the afflicted as their feelings grew, unless the root cause was resolved with reciprocation of feelings or the afflicted underwent an invasive form of surgery to cut out the flowers entirely. Once the afflicted started coughing out full flowers in the final stage, death was waiting in the wings.
It was practically unheard of for this love-cursed disease to spread through someone’s chest in what was basically the span of a week, and with such strength that he was already in the late stage of coughing out bloody flower petals by the end of the first week in which he started coughing intermittently.
At the rate in which his condition has been going, Ajax has no idea if he has much time left before his Hanahaki advances to the final stage. Considering his seemingly sudden overnight affliction after he left the Northland Bank on the day of his reveal and La Signora’s departure three weeks ago, plus how he has been stuck in a limbo at the late stage of Hanahaki for two weeks after the quick growth in the disease’s initial stages, Ajax doesn’t have an accurate frame of reference. He isn’t sure if it was that the folklore was inaccurate regarding the general speed of the disease’s growth rate, or if he is once again an anomaly.
Ajax is used to being an anomaly in life. He fell into the Abyss as a frightened child seeking adventure, but he survived where most were never heard from again. He came out of the Abyss a bloodthirsty monster in the body of a young boy, and was sent to the Fatui by his poor overwhelmed parents, hoping for a way to fix their once innocent son who fought beasts and men larger than he was for the thrill of it. Instead, he thrived and rose the ranks as the youngest Harbinger ever chosen by the Tsaritsa. He operated mostly in the light whereas his fellow Harbingers tended to scheme and skulk close to the shadows. And now, he is a battle-crazed monster with a rare disease borne of romantic love crawling in his veins, an emotion he had never thought he would ever feel for someone in his life.
For once, Ajax wishes he isn’t so much of an anomaly. At the late stage of Hanahaki, his options were limited by his lack of time and any manner of cure. It was either reciprocation, which is nigh impossible, or the surgery, which would be a whole other issue due to the ramifications.
The chances of the afflicted recovering without any emotions after their surgery was often high and nearly expected. Ajax couldn’t imagine a version of him with a lack of any true emotions piloting his body. It would be havoc. He would become even more of a cruel entity than the somewhat benign monster he already is at present.
At least as broken as he is now, Ajax still holds the ability to love his family, to treasure his cursed love for him, to fear and respect the Tsaritsa even as she wields him as her sharpest blade, to feel the passion for a good fight and desire to challenge himself to greater heights, and to have a sense of guilt for his wrongdoings.
If he were to lose all of that, would he still be himself?
Furthermore, leaving the possibility of a Tartaglia without the core of Ajax’s emotions to run wild in Tevyat is a disaster that would only hurt everything he held dear. He knows himself well enough to be aware of that much.
Thus, the only possible peaceful resolution to this entire situation was to take himself out of the picture entirely. However, he has to be careful. His eventual demise is unavoidable, but it has to be planned out and preparations have to be taken.
He cannot let anyone in the Fatui know about the disease, nor could he let Her Majesty know he has fallen prey to the most unlikely form of defeat. The Tsaritsa may be the Goddess of Love, but Her Majesty’s heart was as cold as Snezhnaya’s ever frozen lands. She would not take his failure lightly, especially if she knew the cause was another land’s Archon. It is a betrayal to their great nation, and to Her Majesty. Love was only acceptable if it were for their nation and people, after all.
In fact, Ajax isn’t even sure if she doesn’t already know and it fills him with trepidation for his family’s safety.
He may be the Tsaritsa’s weapon, but weapons blunted by failure are useless. Without his status as a Harbinger, he cannot provide for his family or protect them. He cannot endanger his family’s lives with this betrayal.
Ajax has already rewritten his will two weeks ago when his denial of his affliction has passed by the end of the first week of him coughing out petals. Now he only has to race against an invisible timeline made of research based guesswork and his own faltering health.
He takes a deep breath, and exhales. Moving around the table, he sits on the sofa to the left of his table, where it was set against the wall and facing the door. With the Tsaritsa’s official orders to smoothen the Northland Bank’s relations with the locals, he has an excuse to meddle in broad daylight instead of his initial plan to solve things with his own meagre political power and Mora. It is a relief, in a way, that what is likely to be his last official task as a Harbinger would be able to be accomplished out in the open and without the covert scheming his fellow Harbingers would no doubt utilize.
Now he only has to accomplish this order in record time before finding a way to die without his corpse showing any signs of the flowers living like parasites within him. He will not risk the possibility of the folklore being true when it mentioned how the remains of the afflicted would be overrun with obvious signs of Hanahaki showing, as if the corpse were some kind of morbid garden that would slowly disintegrate into fertilizer.
A knock on his door breaks him out of his thoughts. “Lord Harbinger, your presence is required. He has been waiting by the reception for close to an hour now,” Ekaterina’s voice says from the outside with a strange mirth in her tone.
Ajax stands and strides to the door, opening it. “Who is it, Katya?”
His brown-haired subordinate smiles and leads the way down the stairs. “Your friend, Lord Harbinger.”
His friend? Who? Ajax hasn’t had any friends in his life, even before he fell into the Abyss. He was too shy and hesitant back then, and he was too much to handle for anyone now to make any friends. His subordinates may be more casual with him even with his station as a Harbinger, but they are not his friends. While he may not treat them like disposable commodities the way his fellow Harbingers do, he is still their leader and it is impossible to truly be friends with them no matter how relaxed they may seem around him, or how careful he tries to be around them so as to not scare them into fearful submission.
Even his family, those who are aware of his position as the Tsaritsa’s Vanguard, barely tolerate him; his older sister and two older brothers are always tense and quiet when he is around, and his parents barely speak to him even during the rare occasions he is able to stay at home for a short period of time before being sent off on another mission. The only ones who treat him with unabashed admiration and affection are Teucer, Anthon, and surprisingly Tonia, who knows only the glorious aspects of what he does as a Harbinger. But that is only because they are still too young to know any better. That, and the fact that he actively hides his real occupation from them in a naive hope to keep their innocent minds unburdened by the truth.
Ajax follows Ekaterina down the stairs, perplexed. So then, just who is this so-called friend of his?
When he reaches the ground floor of the bank’s reception area, his blue eyes widen in undisguised shock, his feet faltering in their steps. Him? Of all the people it could be, it was the one person he had never expected. After three weeks of Ajax never encountering his elusive form in Liyue, suddenly, the man of his waking nightmare and sweetest dreams stands in all his statuesque glory before him with a serene smile on his elegant features.
“Childe,” Zhongli walks closer to him, calling out his alias in a placid tone with that mellow voice. “It’s been a while. How have you been?”
Ajax’s mind stutters to a halt when Zhongli is a mere feet away from him, standing so close to his frozen self that he isn’t sure if he’s dreaming or not. The scratching pressure of petals in his throat threatening to cut off his breathing with harsh coughs assures Ajax that this is reality. Shaking himself out of his stupor, he suppresses the urge to cough even as his lips break into an uncontrolled smile.
“Zhongli-xiansheng, what are you doing here?” Ajax is startled by how cheerful his own voice sounds, even when he could not stand to even utter Zhongli’s name in his mind for weeks, and how bitterly betrayed he still feels by the reveal of his beloved’s true identity and the way he was used like a mere pawn in godly games like a blind idiot.
The vision of unparalleled Liyuen beauty before him chuckles. “Would you care for dinner at Wanmin with me? Xiangling has mentioned the completion of a new dish she has been experimenting on.”
Ajax isn’t sure how to feel, now that the person his yearning heart desires is apparently on speaking terms with him again after weeks of absence. Still, he is greedy for his attention, no matter how undeserving he may be to receive it.
“Sure thing, Zhongli-xiansheng,” he says and looks out the window of the bank to gauge the approximate time. The skies were already darkening into an indigo-orange hue. Has he been in his office for that long? It was still noon when he returned to Liyue Harbor earlier. “Let’s go then, before it gets too late.”
Zhongli nods and walks out of the bank, Ajax trailing after him like a hapless duckling or some other kind of tiny creature with a distinct lack of mental faculties and wisdom to stay away from the cause of their impending death.
The duo walk towards Wanmin Restaurant in a comfortable silence, as if this was just another of their usual meet-ups before the reveal. A part of Ajax is bewildered by the way he just falls back into this habitual pattern with Zhongli, even after all the deceit and omissions between them. Another part of him revels in being able to bask in the presence of his dear consultant.
As they arrive at Wanmin, Ajax notices the gazes of several patrons still dining within the establishment. He doesn’t mind their judging eyes. It’s difficult to mind others when he is able to walk alongside the golden-eyed man currently greeting a busily cooking Chef Mao and asking for a table for two.
Xiangling appears from behind a screen after Chef Mao hollers at her. She beams a bright smile at Zhongli, which to her credit, only falters slightly before returning in full force when she spots Ajax beside him. How commendable of her to hide her fear with such grace.
“Hey, you guys haven’t been back in a while! Are you here for the new dish?” Xiangling asks cheerily as she leads them to their usual private room, located near the back of the restaurant.
“Indeed, we are,” Zhongli replies as they sit. “Please add on a plate of Qingce Stir Fry, a basket of Crystal Shrimp, a bowl of Bamboo Shoot Soup, and a bowl of Calla Lily Seafood Soup cooked with squid. Perhaps an additional order of Jade Parcels and a pot of Oolong tea too.
“Is there anything you would like to add, Childe?” Zhongli asks, glancing away from Xiangling for a moment to look at him.
Ajax shakes his head in reply, more focused on the fact that Zhongli ordered Calla Lily Seafood Soup with squid even though his overt distaste for the slimy variant was well-known to Ajax after years of dining together. He would think it was meant for him especially if it weren’t for the fact that it is probably just another part of their mutually cultivated habits after their years of continuous association as business partners. Zhongli is always courteous to an admirable degree, after all.
After Xiangling leaves with their order, Ajax starts the awkward conversation subject in a deceptively light tone that did not reveal his displeasure. “So, Zhongli-xiansheng. Why the sudden invite? I would’ve thought you can’t be bothered with me now that your retirement is achieved.”
Zhongli’s expression doesn’t change, as if the tension brought upon them by Ajax’s line of questioning isn’t stifling to him. Perhaps it isn’t. Perhaps Ajax is the only one making a big deal out of this. His emotions have been all over the place lately, anyway.
“I suppose time ran away from me for a while. I may have intended to live a mortal life after stepping down from my position, but it seems I have yet to be able to escape the old mindset when it comes to time. Had I kept track of time in a manner worse than I have so far, another generation of Liyuens would have been born and matured by the time I returned.” Zhongli responds drily, referencing his status as an immortal Adeptus in a glib manner with his usual pokerface.
The tense atmosphere diffuses immediately when Ajax laughs at that reply. How could he not? Zhongli’s charmingly dry sense of humor has always been able to sneak up on him with how unexpected it is from such a composed, scholarly person.
“Then, I suppose you forgot to bring Mora along with you again?” Ajax teases, even as his chest aches with the reminder that the man sitting with him isn’t a normal mortal, and that the Silk Flower petals stifling his lungs and constantly trying to crawl up his throat represents the ex-Archon in his heart.
Red-lined Cor Lapis eyes look to the side, Zhongli’s exquisite face finally expressing something; bashfulness. Ajax chuckles at the expected reaction. It is always lovely to watch embarrassment bloom on Zhongli’s customary unflustered appearance.
“Don’t worry, I’ll cover the bill later.” Ajax grins at the God of Commerce, who regularly forgets to keep a pouch of Mora ready even though he was the creator of said currency.
Zhongli’s smile of gratitude at his words makes Ajax’s heart melt in the kind of gooey, disgustingly fluttering sensation he has come to associate with his love for the other man. He wants to see Zhongli’s smile all the time.
Their food arrives, starting with Xiangling’s experimental dish. It looks to be a cross between some kind of slime infused abalone and de-shelled crab meat haphazardly mixed together, and drenched with what smells like a spicy sauce in an alarming chili-red.
They start on the new dish first, as an eager Xiangling awaits their feedback. Zhongli takes a bite of the dish as the Harbinger struggles to lift the chopsticks in his hand properly enough to even grasp the food.
He fails miserably as always. Xiangling, probably anticipating his terrible chopstick skills as usual, sneaks him a spoon absentmindedly while Zhongli is focused on regaling his feedback to her new dish in detail.
Ajax is hit with how the textures between the chewy abalone and soft, tender crab meat contrast each other even as his tongue is set on fire with how exceedingly spicy the sauce is. He has no idea what to make of the slime-like addition to all the sensations and flavors in this one bite. Somehow, Zhongli is able to provide what seems to be an adequately detailed review, as the young Liyuen chef keeps nodding exuberantly and taking notes. The auburn haired Snezhnayan has long learned to ignore their typical review sessions in favor of grappling with their other usual dishes.
Xiangling leaves them to their meal after the review, and Zhongli catches Ajax in the midst of using his spoon with the squid in his bowl of Calla Lily Seafood Soup. The disapproving gaze causes him to freeze comically in consternation.
“Ah,” Ajax quickly hides the spoon-shaped contraband behind his bowl as if he wasn’t just using it a moment ago. “The soup is really good. Would you like to try some, Zhongli-xiansheng?”
Zhongli narrows his eyes at him and then pretends he didn’t just watch Ajax sheepishly deflect the unspoken topic clumsily. It is another old point of contention between them, his inability to master the use of chopsticks during meals and Zhongli’s insistence on Ajax practicing with them by avoiding the use of any other utensils. Zhongli had even gotten him a pair of intricate dragon and phoenix patterned chopsticks for him to practice with in the beginning of what was their business consultations turned meet-ups, using Ajax’s own Mora, of course. It is only because Zhongli is usually too polite to speak during meal times that Ajax gets away with his impropriety.
Their meal is consumed rapidly in shared silence, both men enjoying the delicious food and the company of the other. As time passes, Ajax is left staring into his cup of Oolong tea, waiting for the inevitable end to the night. The moon is high up in the cloudy sky tonight, and he is reminded once again that his time with his beloved is limited to an uncertain lifespan, whereas the man he is in love with is an immortal with centuries more to spare even if Ajax was given the chance to live past the next month.
As if sensing his melancholy, Zhongli clears his throat, catching his attention, before speaking. “Is something on your mind, Childe?”
“It’s nothing. I’m just thinking about how to make things less of a pain for the Northland Bank employees.” Ajax simply shrugs as he lies, downplaying the severity of the issue used as a smokescreen for his actual thoughts.
“By making things less of a pain, do you mean to say that the bank employees are facing some sort of difficulty that even the Fatui cannot resolve?”
“They aren’t really considered to be a part of the Fatui even if they work closely with us, but they’re facing the backlash from Fatui operations in Liyue. It’s rather unfair that they have to suffer the consequences of my actions with the whole,” Ajax gestures at the general direction of the sea. “Osial Incident. It’s nothing too dire, just that they’re getting a bad reputation and people are still ansty over the whole thing.”
Zhongli hums, appearing as if deep in thought for a long moment in his usual thinking position, his arms crossed with one hand holding his chin up, knuckles facing upwards. “That is an oversight on my part, it seems. I have conveyed my continued existence to the Liyue Qixing and the Adepti through a shared dream, which would lighten the distressing aftermath of the situation. But I did not think to mention sparing the Fatui in any way. Especially considering that your operations were partly intentional from my end.”
Ajax disagrees with a shake of his head. “No. It’s got nothing to do with you. It’s my fault anyway. Everyone and their grandmother knows I’ve got something to do with the incident. It can’t be helped.”
“Perhaps an official announcement declaring the lack of ties the Northland Bank shares with the Fatui, alongside a sponsored endorsement from the Liyue Qixing would be able to disperse the issue? The Northland Bank is reputed for their generous loan plans still. It might benefit the bank if the public is reminded of how suitable the loan plans are to their need for business investments. Even more so now that parts of the city are still under renovation and quite a few establishments and livelihoods were severely affected.”
Zhongli’s suggestion to exploit the Liyuens in their time of need came across as a little callous, considering he was Liyue’s Archon, and has lifted the people into their current age of prosperity after thousands of years as their guide and leader. Still, Ajax thinks it is to be expected. It is no surprise for a god to be careless with the little mortals they cared for at times. Gods are above mortals in so many ways, after all.
Even so, the Snezhnayan man is delighted at the offered solution, his dull eyes lighting up with a spark of excitement. “Zhongli-xiansheng, you truly do have the best ideas sometimes! It would have to be subtle, and I’ll have to find a way to bribe the Liyue Qixing into agreeing or something, but this seems doable. In fact, this is already a better idea than anything I had in mind.”
“Only sometimes?” Zhongli deadpans.
“Ahaha, well. There’s no battle involved in most of your ideas, so yes. Only sometimes.” Ajax mocks cheekily. “Speaking of battle, you owe me a spar! I still haven’t completely forgiven you for giving your Gnosis to La Signora instead of me, you know. I was here first and did all the work!”
“A spar is all it takes for you to forgive my handing over of the contracted item to the original contractor? How magnanimous of you, Childe.”
“Well, it sounds silly when you put it that way, but still. The only way to reconciliation for this terrible slight is fierce combat, even if I’m no match for you in the end.” Ajax insists, all while knowing that he might not be able to spar with Zhongli before his plan is set into motion and he is sent to a death of his own making.
“Very well, it is a contract between us then. We shall participate in a friendly spar on a day of our choosing in the near future.” Zhongli indulges him with this promise.
Ajax grins at the generous promise, and at the dignified man making said promise. He takes a huge gulp of his Oolong tea and stands. “Come on, I’ll get the bill. It’s getting late and we’ve both got work tomorrow.”
Zhongli follows him out and they leave Wanmin with a much lighter Mora pouch on Ajax’s end and a satisfying dining experience for them both. The warm Liyuen night is quiet save for the last dregs of those working on the final shift in city repairs bustling about. They walk past the small handful of stalls still open and catering to the nightlife in tranquil silence.
They separate at their usual crossroads, with Zhongli shooting a small smile at Ajax’s unprepared heart and leaving with a soft farewell. The Harbinger feels his face glow with heat at the unanticipated gift of a smile and his lungs constrict with pain even as he watches the other man depart into the night.
When Zhongli’s figure has disappeared completely into the dark, Ajax turns towards his apartment situated near the Northland Bank. He walks in quick strides, feeling his throat dry and starting to strain with effort not to spill any petals onto the streets with his near silent bouts of coughing.
He rushes into his apartment, barely able to lock the doors and turn on the lights after chucking his boots off, and collapses onto the ground on his knees in a fit of relentlessly abrasive coughs. The petals are free to spill from his lips once more. This time, unlike the morning’s petal-laced coughing session out in the wilds, the bloody petals seem more abundant and the overly sweet blood he is choking on doesn’t seem like it will stop.
All Ajax can do is try to control his breathing even as his mind vaguely registers that his condition is getting worse again.
The coughing isn’t stopping.
He feels nauseous; his head spins and the living room spins with it. Tears cloud his eyesight, blurring the sight of crimson drenched Silk Flower petals looking like a grotesque parody of the experimental dish he had a taste of earlier.
Ajax has no idea how long he has been coughing for, but as the time drags on and his energy is spent on trying to breathe while choking through a haze of debilitating agony, his sight darkens and he blacks out.