The man never speaks a single word, but Childe knows that his name is Zhongli.
He leads him to the seaport near his family’s home, where a ship is waiting. He has seen this ship before, a salty breeze carding through his hair, yearning to stand closer to someone beside him.
The ship is mostly empty, its captain standing at its helm. She turns when the two of them step onto the deck, single eye narrowing for the briefest moment when she sees Childe. Shaking her head, she heaves a sigh and heads to the back of the ship.
Childe doesn’t imagine the pity in her gaze.
~~~
Zhongli is old, and very tired. He spends all his time on the ship staring into the night sky, now devoid of stars. His eyes are bright and golden, and they stare at nothing half the time.
Childe avoids the growing pains in his spine and retreats to his cabin.
The captain, Beidou, offers him some wine from time to time, which he declines. She tells him ‘your loss’ and sits with him at his table, dredging up memories with every cup of wine.
‘I don’t know what he’s thinking,’ she says, gesturing vaguely at the door to the deck, where Zhongli continues his nightly vigil. ‘Bringing you back over and over again, and for what? If you ask me, he’s finally lost it.’
Childe doesn’t know what to say, so he just nods. Beidou sighs and leans forward, resting her chin on her hand. It clicks when it moves, and Childe notices that the fingers are carved out of stone. Noticing him looking, she smiles slightly and flexes her arm.
‘As if my left eye wasn’t enough. Though I did get a cool arm out of it, so I shouldn’t complain.’ She chuckles and stands up, taking the rest of her wine with her. ‘Well, that’s it for tonight. Sleep well. We’ll be arriving at our destination tomorrow.’
‘Oh, and one more thing,’ she adds, about to close the door of his cabin behind her. ‘In case he keeps spiralling down, if that’s even possible, I wouldn’t be opposed to you faking your death.’
She leaves, and he is left with the throbbing of his head in time with the rocking of the ship.
~~~
In warmer waters, he walks past Zhongli to get to the deck. The now-familiar pain in his spine raises its head, then recoils at the smell.
It is sickly sweet, calling to mind rotting fruit and flowers. But before he can investigate further, the smell is already gone, and so is Zhongli, leaving his post for the first time in nights.
A flower falls onto the ground next to his feet, and as he watches, its petals fold into two, then four gossamer wings. The butterfly unfurls its wings and takes flight, vanishing in the glare of the morning sun.
~~~
When they land, it is at a harbour with golden cranes keeping watch as the sailors secure the ship to the moorings. Buildings painted red line the streets in the distance, and even from here, Childe feels the hairs on the back of his neck rise at the thought of the crowds he knows he will find there.
Beneath the membrane that separates his memories from the rest of him, something recoils and urges him to jump into the water and stay there forever.
But Zhongli is faster, and he grabs Childe’s hand and leads him onto the docks. A sailor coiling a length of rope does a double take when the two of them pass by, but Zhongli is already guiding him down a flight of stars to the lower half of the docks. Carefully dodging the prying eyes of merchants, they are now crammed into a corner, arms pressed against each other. Way too close.
Childe does have a heart, he realises when Zhongli leans around him to check for eavesdroppers.
‘How fast can you run?’
His voice is soft, and Childe’s heart stops in his throat when he grabs Childe’s hand.
‘I—I think I’m decently fast.’
‘Good.’ He surveys the docks above them. ‘Follow me.’
He runs, and Childe follows. Even with the speed at which they’re running, the cold air tearing at his lungs, he can sense the glances from the merchants they dash past, the whispers that follow him through the wind that cushions him.
Whispers of past crimes, a war. Zhongli guides him through the crowded streets, as if trying to make sure that he can’t hear the people’s exact words. Even then, three of them reach his ears.
‘Isn’t he dead?’
Childe turns around, meeting the surprised eyes of a woman—a woman with horns.
But before he can ask, Zhongli has dragged him through a set of double doors.
‘Why are we here?’
Zhongli doesn’t answer, his focus turned to the girl perched on the receptionist’s desk. A large black hat with a plum blossom attached is perched haphazardly on her head, long pigtails on either side of her head. Even though she is swinging her feet, a mildly disconcerting smile on her face, there is judgement in her large eyes.
‘My favourite consultant has returned home,’ she says, her voice sing-song. ‘With a guest? Ah, business is booming!’
‘I’m not dead,’ snaps Zhongli. ‘And neither is he.’
He ignores her and leads Childe down a corridor, heading towards a staircase. The tap-tapping of black flats behind urges him to look back.
The girl is following them at a leisurely pace, her hands clasped behind her back. ‘I’m disappointed in myself,’ she says, the amusement left in her voice being eclipsed by something far heavier. ‘You spend all this time under my wing, yet you’re willing to break the laws of this world once it’s convenient for you.’
‘You don’t know what you’re talking about,’ Zhongli almost growls, now climbing the stairs with steely determination. ‘I know what I’m doing.’
‘I’m not blind, despite what you might think.’ She skips the rest of the way to the base of the stairs, staring up at them with her hands on her hips. ‘I’ve been trying to find you for months. People know more than you think. Beidou, the adepti… they’re all worried about you.
‘So…’ Childe can barely see her now that he is on the second landing of the staircase. ‘I can’t stop you. I can only remind you that decay doesn’t suit you at all.’
Zhongli ignores her.