"Zhongli!"
Seeing as how he's standing amidst a crowd of mortals, you take care to address him by the name that he's chosen for himself. Zhongli raises a hand in greeting, your voice carried to him by the wind. He's dressed in a fitted suit, which makes him seem even taller and leaner and more devastatingly handsome. You wear your happiness like the sun's rays as you step down from your modest vessel, much too eager to wait until the ship properly docks. You're already lifting up the long train of your robes as you hop down onto the dock, a broad grin spread across your lovely face.
Liyue is as lively as ever. Ships crowd the harbor, with more lurking offshore, waiting. Dozens of patchy cats stalk the docks like they're in charge, even while they beg sailors for scraps of fish. The sailors work hard, dark heads of hair gleaming burnished under the sun, and their pleasantly drunk, raucous voices chant sea songs while they build and scrub and scrape barnacles from the undersides of ships.
"It's been a while!" You draw the eyes of many as you approach, eliciting shouted greetings and a few vulgar comments that you pretend not to hear. Zhongli's eyes flash, and his anger can be felt like a pulsating blister, raising goosebumps down your spine. The whispers instantly cease as the guilty parties in question suddenly find themselves to be very busy, fleeing the scene rather than risking Zhongli's palpable wrath. You direct the full force of your relief to Zhongli as you ask, "Is everyone else here already? I hope I'm not late."
Zhongli shakes his head. "No. You're very early in fact. The others won't be arriving for a good while yet, and I was hoping to use this chance to talk with you. Walk with me?"
You accept his proffered arm, and Zhongli takes you on a tour of Liyue. The Lantern Festival brings with it a festive mood, and though it's merely late afternoon, already an enormous crowd has gathered in anticipation for the night's events, and the pavements are clogged with foot traffic. You're glad that your arm is linked so securely with Zhongli's. Food stalls and confectioners cater to the road's never-ending wake and smells of sugar and roasting pork float on the perfume of incense.
"Are you looking for anything in particular?" Zhongli asks, apparently noticing how your eyes linger for too long upon the wares of a toy vendor. Row upon row of toys brings back happy memories of your childhood days, although that time of innocence has long since passed.
"It's the little prince's birthday in several days," You explain, thinking fondly of your newest charge, a little boy with wide, oversized blue eyes and smooth, brown skin. "I need to get him a present since they've invited me to the ceremony."
They, of course, referring to the Khaenrians, with whom you share a mutually beneficial relationship. The Academia in your home country is thriving, much like the bountiful woods and greenery there, gaining the attention of scholars throughout Teyvat. This is in no small part thanks to the knowledge that you've exchanged with the Khaenrians; in exchange for their technological advances, you bring life to their barren wastelands, nourishing it with your powers and flooding it with colour. Life.
How quickly Zhongli's face clouds. His steps grow slow and hesitant, his amber-coloured eyes finding yours before quickly darting away. As late afternoon moves to early evening, the light of a thousand lanterns are reflected within his eyes, and they seem to take on an even greater depth – too deep for his youthful appearance. They're the flickering eyes of someone who has endured pain and torment, who understands the world and what he has to do.
You freeze as dread pools in the pit of your stomach. You loosen your grip upon Zhongli's arm. And, around you, the world spins on. "What's wrong?"
"You're still in contact with them." The words are innocuous enough, but they feel heavy. There's something that he isn't telling you, and you can feel it wedging between you and casting a shadow over every spoken word. You want to ask Zhongli what's wrong, but when you try, the words stop up your airways and wither upon your tongue at the expression on his face. A thousand unreadable emotions are written across his visage, but fear and concern are uppermost, evident and distinguishable. "You must stop. Don't meet with them anymore."
Your breath catches, and your chest feels as though it's collapsing. This time, you finally manage to choke out, "Why?"
When Zhongli finally looks at you, you have to swallow down shards of broken glass. It looks as though just laying eyes on you seems to hurt him. "Celestia."
You try to speak, but find that you've been reduced to silence once again. Vines are wrapping themselves around your stomach and chest so tightly that you're sure they'll kill you. You press the heels of your hands against your eyes, and you want to scream. You want to do a lot of things that you're likely to regret, so you just stand like that for a long while trying to catch your breath.
Celestia knows.
Celestia is cruel.
Celestia will never forgive the Khaenrians.
Zhongli must take your silence as a no, for he continues. His words tumble around you like snowflakes, seemingly multiplying in their amount and intensity. He means well, which makes it all that much worse.
"Surely you must understand the gravity of the situation. Celestia is displeased. The country is lost."
You do know. You didn't rise to your position as the Dendro Archon by being a fool. Your powers had been weak, and you'd survived the Archon War by using a combination of your wits and strategy. Now you find yourself wondering if this is what drew him to you in the first place – if some small part of you hadn't reminded him of his dead companion, a goddess with billowing sleeves, who had loved glaze lilies in full bloom.
"Zhongli." You say. Quietly, but with resolution.
He must hear the change in your voice. Zhongli raises his head and stares at you. But he understands what you're planning to do. He can see the determination colouring your face, just as you can see the fear on his. To him, the solution is simple. Maybe he's always done what's expected of him. But you're not the same. Not since you've noticed that in this world, while you and your people are standing at the top, there are those whose backs you stand on to stay there. You think of the little prince, hearing his anxious voice in your ear, doe eyes fixated on your figure, asking you to promise him that you'll come back to visit soon. You can't abandon them. You won't.
"Don't you understand?" Now, there is anguish written plainly on his face, and it twists at your heart; it's a feeling that you know all too well. It plays across his face like words on a page, evident in the tension in his jaw and his eyes, glazed over like light shining upon a pond. "If you insist on associating with the Khaenrians, I won't be able to protect you anymore!"
"If you can't protect me, then just abandon me. Do what needs to be done."
And then you're walking, because you can't bear to look at him any longer, and your body is already moving before you're even aware of it. You aren't sure where you're planning to go, but anywhere is better than staying here. Zhongli reaches out, his fingers reaching out to grab your billowing sleeve, but you shake your head and jerk away from him. You can hardly see him, your eyes are so blurred.
In the days to come, you find yourself replaying the scene countless times, each time thinking of different things that you should have said and done.
But all you do is leave, without looking back.
