I do not recall much of my performance. I take it as a good sign, then; it is highly unlikely that any major mistake on my part would have gone unnoticed.
Truthfully, I had been dreading this. I watch the Qixing officials exchange words with the conductor offstage, offering her a pen to sign a form or two. I hate to tell her about my leaving, but the idea of leaving quietly is even more abhorrent.
I stay where I am under the pretence of looking for my rosin that I’ve dropped on the ground. Ganyu sees through it immediately and leaves me to it, and so does Shenhe, though the latter is less subtle about it, standing directly in front of me with her arms crossed.
‘Yes?’ I don’t look at her, continuing to run my fingers over the edges of floorboards.
‘Are you trying to avoid someone?’ she asks, monotone. I don’t think I’ve ever heard her speak in any other tone.
‘Not exactly,’ I say. Shenhe shrugs.
‘I can help you.’
Ganyu, bless her soul, turns back at this very moment to drag her junior away, red in the face and avoiding my gaze. Shenhe gives me a thumbs up with a free hand as she disappears backstage.
I go back to doing what I am doing. The Qixing officials are leaving, a smile on the face of the younger one. The conductor exhales deeply and goes to perch on the edge of the stage, relief in the loose line of her body.
She is so close. I can go up to her now, explain myself, hope she does not get upset. Just two steps away, maybe three.
My hands stay frozen to the floorboards, looking for something that is not there.
At last, when she sighs happily, leaps off the stage, and heads for the exit, I find myself heaving a deep breath. Disappointment more than relief. I stand up, straightening my aching back. The stage lights are flickering once again, as they always do at this time of night.
I realise with a start that I am alone in this room once again, just like the night after the orchestra’s first appearance.
The sense of déjà vu stronger than ever, I lift my instrument and take my seat. For a moment, I expect to see someone sitting in the seats, the lone audience member, unblinking eyes fixed on myself.
The seats remain empty. I sigh again, hearing the floorboards creak beneath me as I head backstage. I’ll be home around midnight, be awake to enjoy the rest of the weekend tomorrow morning, and then go back to my work the day after.
There is still the matter of my leaving the orchestra, but I will get around to it later.
Strange. I should feel better, having relieved myself of my self-imposed duty when I handed that transcription to the conductor. But there is the eternal heaviness, weighing me down as I descend the stairs, coaxing me to near sleep when I tuck my erhu back into its case. Perhaps that is my fate. I am crafted from the finest grief, after all.
The hair on the back of my neck stands up. I leap to my feet, suddenly alert. Someone is here with me, in the narrow space behind the stage, piled-up benches and boxes casting dim shadows across the floor. I gauge the distance between myself and the exit. Too far, with a dark passageway in between us.
I lick my lips. ‘Is anyone there?’
‘I thought you’d never ask.’
He sounds terrible. I watch one of the shadows on the wall detach itself from its fellows and almost slink towards me. A small cough wracks his frame before he manages to suppress it, standing straight, arms crossed.
‘I thought you’d gone home.’
I do not mean for it to sound so harsh. Childe doesn’t seem to mind, stopping a good distance away from me, leaning against a wall. I note the weakness in his feet as he barely hides a stumble.
‘I wish I had,’ he rasps. ‘Then I wouldn’t be here to make this mistake.’
He’s not leaning anymore, slowly stalking towards me like a tiger with its prey.
‘I watched you play,’ he says. I instinctively take a step backwards. ‘You’ve improved a lot.’
‘Thank you,’ I say quietly.
‘I don’t know why I looked at you for so long that night,’ he continues. I have nowhere to retreat to, so I keep myself still as he approaches, footsteps completely silent on the wooden floor. ‘I thought it was infatuation, perhaps, something I thought I’d killed when I turned eighteen.’
‘Naive of me, perhaps. I am still some part human, still beastly.’ He’s close. I turn my erhu case away from him so that it doesn’t smack against his leg. ‘The other instinct, however, when I started to know you… I doubt it is natural.’
‘What was it?’
‘If I were to be destroyed, as long as it was in service to you, I would be happy,’ he says. ‘Foolish of me, perhaps, when there was no way you’d look my way. But it’s how I’ve always been. Human or not, it is what I am now.’
I do not know how to respond to that confession. Childe looks up, smiles, though the corner of his lips continues to twitch.
‘I don’t know what I’m saying,’ he says. ‘I don’t know if this is a dream or not. I could never… I am not this honest. I’m just tired of being a coward.’
His face is inches from mine. I know what is coming, allowing him to close the distance, letting our lips slot together. He is cold, either from the weather or his poor health, and he seems to realise it, stepping closer as if trying to leech off my warmth. The kiss is chaste, cautious, none of his all-devouring hunger showing in the way his hands hover above my arms, too scared to close down and hold me. When I reach out for him, he backs off, breaking our contact.
He wipes his face with a sleeve, opening his mouth and closing it again. I stand up straight, waiting.
‘What more do you want to say?’
There is always something. And sure enough, he licks his lips and speaks, his voice reverting back to its initial rasp.
‘Come home with me.’
‘Okay.’
‘To Snezhnaya. To my family. I want you to—I want you to see me.’
~~~
I say yes.
I go home to pack up my things, and he is waiting for me at the station, ready to take the last train out of the city. He stands a good distance from me, and when I take his arm to guide him through the open doors, I feel him hold back a flinch.
‘I’ve made a mistake,’ he says. We are the only people in this cabin, and underneath the fluorescent lighting, the dark circles under his eyes are more evident than ever.
‘Sleep first,’ I say. He looks at me. I expect him to say no, but he nods and slumps in his seat.
I make sure he is asleep before draping my jacket over him.
He doesn’t wake up through the entire trip, even as the sun rises, its blinding brightness reflecting off the snow into our cabin. The buildings visible from our window become fewer and fewer as we progress, being slowly replaced by the gnarled branches of trees, heading towards the edge of the city. That should be our final destination, if I remember the map of Liyue’s train system correctly.
Eventually, the train rolls to a stop. I nudge him in the side with an elbow.
‘Childe. We’ve arrived.’
He doesn’t react, still deep asleep beneath my jacket. It’s the suit jacket I wore to the performance, thicker than my usual coat. Perhaps the warmth is too tempting to leave.
He is still asleep when the train screeches to a stop. I give up and grab my jacket, bundling him up in it. He’s a bit heavy, but fortunately we both packed light.
No one stops us to check our tickets as we leave through the train station, still empty at this time of day. Given how isolated this location is, I suppose that is to be expected. But first, I need to wake Childe up.
I place him on a nearby bench, wincing when his shoulder bumps against mine. It’s sharp, boney, and I realise with a start that I can feel his ribs through my coat. It’s only been a few days, surely, surely I was hallucinating. It can’t have gotten this bad.
‘Childe.’ I rest his head on my shoulder. ‘Childe. We’re here.’
I hold my breath, looking at his face, the furthest thing from serene in sleep. The crease between his brow deepens before he draws a deep breath, with the relief of someone who has just escaped drowning, before his eyes snap open.
He begins to push off my arm around his shoulders. ‘Let go of me.’
‘When was the last time you ate anything?’
He leans away from me, breathing ragged as he slumps against a stone pillar. ‘Yesterday night. Or afternoon. Or it was one day earlier. I don’t know.’
‘You… I’ll get you something.’
I know that can only be a lie. This station is almost completely empty apart from the two of us, closed-down stores and broken signs lining the walkways. Childe turns his dull eyes to mine.
‘Don’t bother. I’m not hungry. Haven’t been, since… ‘ He groans, covering his face with his hands. ‘I’ve made a grave mistake.’
‘Do you mean your transformation?’
‘Transformation? I wouldn’t call it that. But I don’t feel… why did I bring you here? You’re not going to help. You only hurt.’
I bite back the sharpness on my tongue. ‘You will find that my intentions this time are not malicious. I wish for your well-being.’
‘I don’t doubt that. I don’t.’ He heaves a shaky laugh. ‘It’s just that what I want from you… I don’t want to inflict that on you again. Or myself.’
‘Wanting in and of itself is not monstrous.’
‘You don’t know me, then.’
‘Let me try,’ I say, quietly. A light breeze is picking up, and I drape my jacket over his shoulders once more. ‘Let me judge for myself first.’
‘This is the only part of myself that I have been—that I am being honest about.’
‘Let us start again, then,’ I say. ‘Next time I call you a friend, it will be in earnest.’
A small smile twitches at the corner of Childe’s lips. With the help of the pillar, he pushes himself to his feet, giving me a hand. ‘Picking your own poison, I see. Come on. I’ll call a taxi.’
~~~
He doesn’t sleep on the car ride, and he doesn’t sleep at the airport. I assume that he must have planned for my joining him a while ago, because he casually produces two tickets and passes one to me.
‘We’ve arrived on time,’ he says. Customs had given us relatively little trouble, and now I watch snowflakes drift past the floor-length windows. Hopefully the storm doesn’t pick up.
Childe digs around in his bag and finds a book. I watch him open it, peeling open the stiff spine. His hands are shaking, though the movement is small enough that I have to pay attention to notice. He licks his lips, turning a page without reading it.
‘I’m starving,’ he says quietly. ‘Food won’t help.’
Jaws ripping into divine flesh, violence tearing through fragile human skin. I watch him, on full alert, as if expecting the star-beast to burst out of his skin and devour me.
Outside, the storm begins to pick up.
Fortunately, it isn’t enough to delay our flight, though the staff do look decidedly nervous. Our seat is near the back, and I let Childe take the window seat. I take advantage of the last moments with decent connection to let Director Hu know where I am headed, before silencing my phone and meaning to stuff it back into my bag. But I’ve forgotten something.
I take my phone back out, text Xiao and tell him that I am all right, and then put it away.
Childe looks out of the window throughout the takeoff, the expanse of white covering every other feature on the ground.
I had forgotten to take a book with me, and I do not wish to ask Childe for his, so I scroll through the in-flight movie options. I had planned to select something that would suffice for background noise, but Childe turns his attention to my screen, and I find myself scraping through my non-existent film knowledge on what to watch.
‘I’ve been meaning to watch that one.’ Childe’s voice is barely audible over the hum of the engine.
I let him have my left earbud. As we watch, myself barely processing the blurry subtitles, Childe clicks his tongue.
‘Never understood why Anthon was so into this. Maybe it’s the mechas. I just can’t see him being interested in the… you know.’
He gestures to the screen. I squint to get a better look, but the glare on the screen gets in the way.
‘You don’t have any family, do you? Wait, of course you don’t. I should have known when you told me about not remembering anything from your earlier life.’
I know what family is. The definition is loose, but it seems to be applicable to what I feel towards Xiao, Ganyu. Maybe Hu Tao to a certain extent. But… ‘What is family like?’
Childe laughs softly. ‘I don’t know. I don’t know… not anymore.’
Lowering his voice, he begins to speak.
‘I think I mentioned that I was violent enough for my family to send me away.’ He isn’t looking at the screen anymore, and he doesn’t seem to notice that his earbud has fallen out. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever told you why I was that way.’
‘It did not seem polite to ask.’
‘It’s okay. I would have told you. It’s an open secret among Fatui ranks anyway.’
He looks out the window. The sun is setting, and from this altitude, the sky takes on a dark purple hue. I lean closer to listen, feeling more than hearing the gentle thrum of his voice.
‘I ran away from home when I was fourteen.
‘I probably should have listened to my parents,’ he says, half-smile on his face. ‘They’d said how dangerous the ocean could be, but I wanted to prove… something. The teenage urge to act older than you actually were, I guess. I took my father’s fishing vessel and sailed out into the dawn.
‘At first I thought I was lucky. The waters were warm for the first time in years, and there were barely any icebergs I had to watch out for. That itself should have been a warning, but I was… I was stupid. It should have taken me way less time to notice that the sky was not getting any lighter. Only the stars, and the endless darkness, and only the lights of my boat to cut through it.
‘I sailed and I sailed, looking for… truth be told, this is embarrassing,’ he says. ‘I had heard the story of a black whale, and the fortune that would befall someone who could manage to catch it. I was old enough to know fact from fiction, yet…
‘I sailed, and I fell.
‘My mother and father, despite all their warnings, had failed to mention how hungry our seas were. Years hidden beneath the Tsaritsa’s everfrost, only allowed to show itself when her people needed something from it. Now, here was a boy, far from home, unlikely to be missed until his parents had finished dealing with his siblings. It opened its maw, and it swallowed me up.
‘Did you know, Zhongli, that the ocean dreams as well?’
He’s looking at me. I hesitate before shaking my head lightly.
‘I dreamed alongside it when I fell. I remember dying, and gnashing teeth, and my mind collapsing every time I tried to think. There were others, I think, older and wiser and more knowledgeable on how to survive. I screamed for help, but they would show up to tear me to pieces, attracted by the sound. It was a lightless place, you see.
‘I begged the ocean when I lay there in pieces, asking for something, anything, to help me return home. I needed more strength, I told her. I would give her anything in return. My soul, my body. Let me see my family one last time.
‘And well… she answered. The others in there could never die, their minds frozen in the flowing currents, but they could fear. I fought and I killed and I devoured and before I knew it, I was washed up on the beach, my mother kneeling over me, almost hysterical with fear.
‘They got me home. My parents, bless them, they were worried sick, but one of my older siblings—I think it was Nikolai—knew something was wrong. He asked me how long I had been in there, and I couldn’t answer. He told me that I had been gone for three days, but I knew that couldn’t be true.’
‘Time does not flow in dreams,’ I say quietly.
Childe nods. ‘I had hoped that it would go back to normal, if not for my sake, then for theirs. Even if they could not—could never understand. But I think I had adopted some part of her when I left. Ever in motion, ever hungry. It was battle I craved at first, then blood. And when blood could no longer satisfy me, I hungered for the stars.
‘You know the rest. My parents sent me to the Fatui, they taught me all they knew, and now I walk in dreams.’
The sun has fully set now, and the lights in the cabin are dimmed. Childe leans against the window, staring out into the dark sky. Sooner or later, the stars would emerge. I attempt to subtly clear my throat, but the sound that slips out draws his gaze.
‘Yes?’
‘Does your family know? About your not being human,’ I add.
Childe shrugs. ‘My parents suspect something is up, but they’re willing to pretend for the others’ sake. But no, I don’t think they know. I don’t think they ever will.’
‘You will have to explain,’ I say. ‘You will cause them more pain otherwise.’
‘I don’t plan to disappear,’ he says. ‘You’re here, aren’t you? I could do the same, let my memories guide this manifestation of myself, and they’ll be none the wiser.’
‘But you’ll never see them again.’
‘That’s for the best.’ Childe adjusts his seat, sighing when he can lie down comfortably. ‘I cannot give them what they want from me.’
‘Are you scared of going home?’
‘No. Maybe. Sometimes.’ He’s still holding onto my jacket, throwing it over himself for extra warmth. ‘I… don’t know what to say to them. Apologise? Say I’ll do better? It’s too late for that.’
He turns over and curls up, still facing the window. If I look carefully, I can see the pinpricks of light hidden in the depths of his eyes.
‘Yes,’ he says. ‘I’m scared. Hypocritical of me, don’t you think?’
I wish I could tell him that we would face it together. But I am merely an observer, and all I can do is beg.
‘You could leave the Fatui,’ I say. ‘Keep whatever remains of your humanity, leave it all behind to stay with them.’
He bites his lip, thinking.
‘But if I do,’ he says. ‘If I do, I will have no place to sate my hunger.’
His hand on the armrest twitches. I feel the urge to hold it.
‘Gods in Snezhnaya only exist with the Tsaritsa’s consent.’
He yawns, closing his eyes.
‘Don’t wake me up for dinner.’
this fic was going to have a lot more focus on music initially but i gave up halfway and wrote this instead. the concept of being a vessel for someone else's memories and thoughts will forever haunt my brain and i cannot help but put it everywhere