Chapter Text
Xiao moved through the marsh, the water rising past his calves. He held his spear out to his side, the tip cutting small waves into the calm, glassy surface; scarlet streaks left wafting in its wake. They swirled into the water, rippling like red ink as the two melded together. He stumbled slightly, the gash on his leg purging blood at an alarming rate. His left arm lay limp and unresponsive at his side. The wound across his back was no better. The blood clung to him, streaming from his calves as it stained the water varying shades of crimson.
The sound of the forest was nothing but a buzz in his ears, barely audible over the thundering of his pulse ricocheting through his mind. He breathed in deeply as his power flooded his injuries, slowly knitting the skin back together. He could feel the ripped flesh pulling in on itself, the wounds screaming in protest as his body wrenched itself back together.
The pain was staggering, yet familiar. An intimate melody, almost comforting in its agony. He groaned slightly, his knee buckling under the anguish as his calf muscle heaved back into place, followed by his shoulder. His hands reached out to catch himself as he fell to his knees in the now scarlet pool. The pain receded at a tortuously slow pace, his breathing trembling and coming in ragged gasps. Gradually, he became whole and took a shuddered breath.
He flexed his left hand, rolling his shoulder. His healing always left him feeling raw, his fresh skin protesting its accursed existence. He spared a glance back at the horde of dead abominations. One of their severed heads still had a chunk of his shoulder lodged in its teeth.
He clenched his jaw, turning his back on the massacre. He submerged his spear as he walked, cleaning the blood out of its grooves. He continued on, weaving through the silent hills, sweeping the land for any lingering karma.
He found none.
The sun slowly started its climb into the sky; the first rays of dawn’s light piercing through the thin clouds. Columns of light cascaded down in a patchwork of radiance, illuminating the ground below. His journey ended at his favorite hill, the one overlooking the sea just off the coast; close to that little cabin that so often dominated his thoughts. He sat at the top, watching, waiting, silently observing life begin to wake from its clockwork slumber.
He sat on a nearby stone and let himself drift. His breathing steadied into something measured and deliberate as he tried to clear his mind. The breeze danced over his newly healed flesh, giving rise to goosebumps all along his still tender skin. He couldn’t help the involuntary shudder that ran down his spine, dragging him back to the moment.
He knew he was being reckless, rushing his duties to keep his time free, taking careless wounds in his haste. Yet his flesh meant so little after all these millennia. The wounds were temporary, fleeting and ignoble. If the price was a little blood, he would pay it a hundred times over.
He did not have to wait long before he heard his name dance across the breeze. He allowed himself to dissolve, becoming one with the wind.
The gentle current swirled into his form, leaving wisps of Anemo to disintegrate into the air around him; a faint hint of black and gold lining their edges. Lumine was sitting cross legged, quietly watching the sunrise. The warm light danced off of the fields of flowers and cascading oceans of grass. They were somehow still in bloom, despite the chilled air nipping at his skin.
She seemed lost in thought, staring off into the distance. He cleared his throat, trying not to startle her. She turned with a smile, kind eyes lifting to his as her her blonde hair breathed in the breeze, spilling loose around her in slow, careless waves.
“Lumine,” he said, bowing his head slightly.
“Xiao, good morning,” she returned, her voice happy, light, like a cool breeze. He smiled faintly, the motion still feeling foreign to his muscles.
So much kindness permeated her, hope and wonder twirling and combining into something utterly unknowable from his perch of viscera and torment. How does she smile so? How does the pain not touch her eyes? Staring into her, feeling the calm warmth emanating from her soul, he could almost feel it.
Almost...
Love, kindness, compassion, they all felt so foreign, so distant. Exotic concepts meant for someone else, anyone else.
She tilted her head, staring into his eyes as if trying to find some answer that hid within. He realized he hadn’t said anything. He was simply standing there, lost in thought. He swallowed, the motion tight.
"Hello."
It didn't seem like the right reply. What else was there to say? What words could possibly describe the feeling clenching his chest, gnawing ravenously at his spirit?
She gave him another small, calming smile as if she could feel the turmoil of his thoughts. She patted the ground next to her, looking up at him expectantly. That gentle smile was still dusting her lips, eyes hopeful. He followed her gesture wordlessly, sitting and joining her.
“How can I be of assistance?” he asked, his voice sounding distant even to his own ears.
“Nothing too exciting,” she said, her gaze turning back to the fields of flowers waving in the cool morning breeze.
“Only a couple of commissioners today. There's a hillichurl camp up the road from here. They have been attacking caravaners making their way to Liyue Harbor. Four wagons have been lost already. Ningguang asked me to clear them out,” she looked up at him as she spoke, as if searching for something. He wished he knew what. No matter how many nights he lay awake thinking of that look in her eyes, he never managed to untangle their hidden meanings. Her eyes searched his for a long moment, and he felt that clenching in his chest again. He felt so lost, so unsure of himself. Normally, that feeling would make him want to avoid her, yet he kept coming back. He felt as confused by his actions as he did the strange warmth permeating his chest.
“However I may be of assistance,” he said again, echoing himself. His head turned back to the skyline to look out across the meadow. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her face fall slightly, the lines of her smile softening. He wished he knew why, knew what to say, what to do. He felt so lost near her, his confidence wavering under her brilliantly golden gaze. The feeling was as unfamiliar as it was unsettling.
“You’re bloody again,” she said in a small voice. She lifted a hand as if to touch him but stopped, hesitantly lowering it back to her side, a worried expression on her face.
“Not all of it is mine,” he answered, yet the concern creasing her brow only deepened. “I heal fast, do not worry yourself,” he said as his eyes flicked back to hers for but a moment before finding the horizon again. He had tried to wash it off, hoping she would not notice. He had clearly failed, although he supposed his torn clothing betrayed his wounds just as much as the bloodstains did.
She paused, the silence stretching as she tried to find the right things to say. “You still feel pain, Xiao,” she said, her voice small. “I wish you would be more careful…,” she all but whispered, eyes looking away from his tattered, crimson stained shirt.
“If that is what you wish, then I will try,” he said, still watching the sun.
“Just like that?” Her brows were still furrowed as she looked up at him.
“I will try, but I make no promises. I have a schedule to keep."
She seemed unsatisfied with his answer, yet she said nothing. They sat in silence for a while, watching the sun slowly ascend. Regardless of how many mornings he spent alongside her, nestled in this same valley, the beauty always struck him. It was just northeast of Liyue Harbor, on the hills overlooking the Sea of Clouds. A symphony of life enveloped them; dozens of bird species harmonizing in a thousand discordant voices, yet somehow managing to sound deliberate in their overlapping melodies. The valley below them dipped and expanded into an endless tapestry of flowers and shrubs, framed by the early morning tides crashing against the cliffs below. The peak of the waves crested over the rocks, bursting over their steep edge to mist the plain below; the spray causing tiny rainbows to wink in and out of existence. An occasional rabbit or fawn would wander through the meadow, its nose raised, sniffing the fresh air of a new dawn. Autumn was firmly upon the land, the trees shivering with the wind; a cascade of red, orange, and yellow leaves flooding down, swirling in the chilled breeze. The leaves spiraled as they fell, dancing in an intricate flurry, their endless expanse sweeping over the land for as far as the eye could see.
Caught up in the wonder before him, he had not noticed how close Lumine had gotten. Her shoulders had a slight tremble to them as she looped her pinky finger with his. Frozen, unsure what to do or how to act, he just sat, unmoving. Slowly she took the rest of his hand in hers, her eyes not leaving the horizon. Her small shoulders were shaking, her knees pulled up to her chest, teeth clattering silently behind her closed lips.
“Are you cold?” he asked, his voice irreverently cutting through the hushed silence.
“A little,” she said, a slight tremor to her voice as her jaw chattered. She looked away, a blush rising on her cheeks as if ashamed by such a simple thing. Her hand did feel cold in his, yet she always felt too cool to his overly warm skin. Was that why she reached for him? For warmth? Not knowing what else to do, he slowly pulled his hand from her grasp. She looked over at him, brows kitting for but a moment before he reached up, putting his now freed arm around her shoulders.
“You may have some of my warmth,” he said, looking towards the horizon. That was what humans did when they were cold, wasn’t it? Huddle together and share warmth? He was sure he had heard stories about it.
She seemed like a statue, his arm draped around her shoulders, hand holding near her rib cage. Slowly she relaxed, leaning her head against him, the tension leaving her muscles.
“You’re so warm,” she mumbled, her right hand reaching up and resting on his chest. He cleared his throat, trying to convince his voice to remain even.
He reached for the simplest excuse. The one everyone accepted as truth. "Adepti run hotter than mortals.”
“Mhmm,” she hummed in response, scooting a little closer.
He felt his treacherous heart pick up its pace, thumping in his ears. Her skin was chilly under his, yet still soft and inviting. Her hair had a faint floral smell as it fell over his shoulder. Warmth permeated his lower stomach, a feeling of anxiety and... something... a feeling he left unnamed and wholly unacknowledged. His mind flinched from it, as if touching something hot.
It seemed like Lumine always found little reasons to touch him; brushing hair from his eyes, holding his hand when they climbed, inspecting his wounds, even the minor ones. It bothered him at first – if he was being honest with himself, it still did a little – yet, it was something he was slowly becoming accustomed to. He tried not to think about it too deeply. Mortals seemed like awfully touchy creatures whenever he observed them. Little kids playing tag, running, chasing, and crashing into each other. Lovers holding hands and kissing. Ship workers shaking forearms, clapping each other on the back. Maybe this was just another of those strange mortal habits. He was just overthinking, it probably meant nothing. That thought did little to slow his heart rate, unfortunately.
He tried his best to act like one of them, be more human around her, yet it felt so unnatural. He was as poor a human as he was an Adeptus. He sighed, the air from his breath blowing her hair slightly. She lifted her head from his shoulder, looking up at him.
“You okay?” she asked, a hint of insecurity tinting her words.
“Never better,” he said, meeting her eyes. These little moments were worth all the bloodshed, all the pain he had to endure. He felt embarrassed about just how much he looked forward to her daily calls, how his heart rate would pick up slightly every time he saw the sun cresting on the skyline, the birth of the new dawn signifying the end of their time apart. It had become a routine, a comfortable respite from his gruesome work; like a lost firefly lighting his night. The anticipation fueled him through his carnage. The time spent with her made it all worth it, even in the quiet moments where they just sat together, peacefully watching the sunrise. Especially those. Without thinking, he reached up, brushing her hair from her eyes with his free hand like she always did to him. Her breathing hitched. The sun must have burned her slightly, as her cheeks were a bright shade of red. She looked away, biting her lip, lost in thought.
“Are you okay?” he asked, studying her face.
“Never better,” she returned, eyes finally meeting his. He couldn’t help the small quirk of his lip at the reply.
Silence settled between them, comfortable and unhurried. The sun climbed, shadows shortened, the meadow becoming brighter. The quiet drew out, long and tender, as if time had learned to move slowly just for them.
Lumine’s voice came out hushed, as if mourning the words. “We should get going.”
Xiao nodded.
For a heartbeat, neither of them moved, then reluctantly, her weight disappeared from his chest and he stood, schooling his face back into something practiced.
Killing was simple. Familiar.
His spear flashed in his hands, and bodies came apart. Blood whipped through the air in bright ribbons, dancing beneath his spear. Lumine barely had time to catch up to him before the whole camp was but a crimson stain marring the otherwise serene landscape.
She panted, hands on her knees as she glared at him, exasperation in her voice; “Why do you always run off?”
“It’s safer,” he said, surveying his gruesome work.
“For who?!” she snapped back, irritated.
He didn’t reply, but the answer seemed obvious. Just thinking about her being harmed made his blood feel hot. He grit his teeth, the silence hanging heavy between them. She was still quietly looking at him, her expression softening.
“You don’t have to protect me all the time, Xiao. I’m not as fragile as you think I am,” she said, that signature warmth seeping back into her words.
He couldn’t help thinking of her first days back in Liyue. Tear-streaked, shaking, wailing Aether’s rejection into his chest. Discarded as if she were nothing.
After that came the fighting: throwing herself at every danger she could find, as if violence could drown grief. As if enough violence could trade pain for numbness. A kind of suffering he understood far too well.
His eyes flicked back to hers, searching for any trace of that old hurt.
He found only open irritation… and, beneath it, a faint edge of concern.
He sighed deeply.
“A simple flesh wound is nothing to worry over," she opened her mouth to object, but he spoke before she could.
"Pain doesn't matter. I've been hurt far worse before,” he said, trying to get her to understand. Why was it so hard? How could she not see?
“I’m not some weak mortal, Xiao. And it’s not just about dying.” Her hand came to rest on her hip, golden eyes fixed on him. “You still feel pain, no matter how many times you’ve been hurt before.”
Her voice grew quieter, losing its edge. “Your pain matters, too.”
He looked away, grip around his pike tightening. “Even still.”
“Even still, what?” A bit of a bite returned to her words.
“Better you get hurt repeatedly rather than me even risk a wound?!”
“Yes.” His response was without hesitation, voice flat and unyielding.
Her eyes widened slightly, then her face came to rest in a grimace. She watched him intently. A mix of worry and concern drew her brows close, her gaze seeming to search for something.
He looked away, that tightness returning to his chest, unbidden. He closed his eyes, sighing as he let his spear disintegrate.
He opened his eyes, looking back at her.
The silence felt unbearable as she met his stare. Her expression slowly changed, a soft smile starting to creep onto her face. A sudden mirth that he did not understand. He almost asked why, yet held his tongue.
“You still need twenty Glaze Lilies for Baizhu, right?”
She nodded, the faintest hit of a smile still cresting her lips. He held his arm out, looking intently into her eyes. She took it without a word. They turned from the carnage, her arm looped into his as they set off for the rice fields.