As The Sun Gazes Upon The Moon [Zhongchili]

Chapter 3 - Lonely Night

Zhongli lies on the four poster bed of his assigned room, staring up at the repeating floral patterns decorating the ceiling. While on any other occasion he would appreciate the finery the Tsaritsa provided him with, it is difficult to admire the splendour of the triple-layered chandelier while burdened with the knowledge that his precious friend is currently chained in the palace basement.

The fate of immortal beings is clear. One day all shall lose themselves to the burdens of time and loss, either to be put down or sealed away for eternity, and during his life Zhongli has witnessed too many of his friends succumb to such a fate.

But Childe is not supposed to fall like this.

Zhongli slides off the bed and crosses the room to the far side window, perching on the alcove and pressing his palm to the glass, condensation forming around the print of his hand. Teyvat's stars gaze down, mappings of fate woven by the Heavenly Principles, and while it is of some comfort to think of Liyue sleeping under the same sky, home still seems so very far away.

How alien to think that it was only a few weeks ago he and Childe were together in Liyue, laughing and conversing as they filled out his overdue bills in the kitchen.

He wishes he'd woken earlier the day after to tell Childe how he treasures his companionship.

But he shall find the opportunity once again. Even the most dire of battles are not truly lost until the last soldier has fallen, and he will not lose hope yet. This is his first day at Zapolyarny Palace, and he will discuss the situation further at the morning meeting arranged with the Tsaritsa and Dottore.

Tonight he should rest and restore his mind to full sharpness but, despite his many attempts, he cannot sleep. The clock by the door reads ten to midnight, every tick of the pendulum echoing through his quarters, every breath amplified to a howling gust, every vibration of his heart a shuddering earthquake through his bones.

While Liyue hums with life—crickets chirping in the twilight, joyful cheers of couples returning from late night dinners, fluttering sails being raised at the docks—here it is silent and unsettling, and he will not sleep tonight.

Zhongli stands and grabs his coat from the chair it is draped over, heading to the door. The Tsaritsa permitted him access to Childe's lab in case Zhongli wished to further observe the situation, and that is the direction his feet carry him, looping through the deserted corridors until he comes to the central staircase which he follows down to the entrance hall.

Cross the hall, pull back the curtain, open the door. Walk until the tenth lamp, press it in. Tread swiftly through Dottore's lab, ignore the eye that watches from its jar in the centre workbench, enter the elevator.

Down.

The elevator whirrs into life and it's only now that Zhongli stops to consider why he has come here. Childe is in no condition for productive conversation, but that is not what Zhongli seeks tonight. With its support removed, a stone's only path is to crash to the ground, and Zhongli's heart grows unsteady in isolation.

The doors open and Zhongli steps into the control room. With the main lights turned off, the room is lost in darkness, and shadows crawl across the walls, jagged shapes that turn their claws toward the uninvited guest intruding on their midnight play.

He crosses the room and sits beside the covered window. A single orange light blinking in his peripheral vision, Zhongli leans his head on the control panel.

It is ridiculous. He has no right to bemoan his situation, yet he is distressed over a single night alone, while Childe has been through over six months alone, with no one by his side to speak to or share his troubles with, no voice to guide him except the calls of the dark.