As The Sun Gazes Upon The Moon [Zhongchili]

Chapter 18 - Beyond the Border

Author's Note: Chapter specific content warnings!

Nothing additional to what's already in the tags / start of fic warnings (do people even read those over here?), but heads up that this is the chapter where Zhongli and Hu Tao discuss The Border and human souls / afterlife etc

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Zhongli wakes to damp air brushing his cheeks and the sun warming his back. He opens his eyes and finds himself face to face with a sleeping Childe, who has thankfully found some rest after the events of the night before. Childe is curled on his side, one fist tucked under his chin and the other arm wrapped across himself. His mouth is slightly parted and his nose twitches in his sleep, shifting the pattern of freckles painted across his cheeks.

There's an innocence about him and, while Childe is no naïve young boy, how precious it would be for him to be able to remain in that carefree state for the rest of his life.

If only Zhongli could protect that forever.

He reaches out and touches Childe's cheek. It's smooth and soft and a little bit squishy. Zhongli pokes it, smiling at the dimple his finger creates.

What is he doing?

Zhongli snatches his hand back.

Childe mumbles and twitches his nose, rubbing his cheek with the back of his hand, but luckily doesn't wake.

Zhongli stares at his traitorous hand.

Why did he do that?

Poking one's friend in the cheek while they are sleeping is not civilised, polite, or proper, and yet that is the exact course of action he took. How inappropriate.

He has broken the contract of social propriety and now he must bear appropriate punishment for his transgressions. Considering the minor nature of the offence, a small household task seems an appropriate sanction for his behaviour. The mail, perhaps? Childe is often urging him to be more efficient in responding to his finances, so today he shall do just that.

Tearing himself away from Childe, Zhongli picks his way across the bed and slips out of it, making his way to the kitchen. There he sets the water to boil then picks up the dreaded pile of unopened envelopes. The stack is thick and he has to use both hands to keep it steady as he carries the pile to the desk in the front room. He sits down, setting the letters in front of him.

Zhongli stares at the letters.

The letters stare back, unyielding.

Maybe he could attend to the more personal items before moving onto the financials.

Yes, this is far more agreeable.

He flicks through the pile, stopping at an envelope sealed with the Cryo Archon's stamp. Following the events at Wanmin, they have upheld a steady line of communication to share what (sadly little) progress they have made in their investigations. He slides his finger under the wax seal and opens the envelope, laying it out on the desk.

My dearest Zhongli,

I hope you continue to keep well. It is a shame that Tartaglia has not fully adjusted to the life we have offered him, but there is little to be done. We can but hope that Tartaglia makes the appropriate decisions to attain the future he desires.

Here the signs bode ill: for the past fortnight the winds have carried a deeper chill and ravens have lingered within these palace grounds; some of the recruits have taken to concealing the chicks from the henhouse under crates and pots. While I do not vouch for the trustworthiness of the mortals' superstitions, I cannot help but feel unease.