Childe shows up that night, his suit buttons buttoned completely. His tie is slightly askew, though he might have been too nervous to notice, tapping his foot with a smile fixed firmly to his face. When I welcome him in, I catch the scent of cologne.
‘You need to take your shoes off,’ I tell him, stopping him with an arm across his chest.
His cheeks flush red, and he looks as if he wants to find a nice hole to curl up and die in. When I lead him to the kitchen, he seems almost ready to combust.
‘Is the weather disagreeable?’ I ask him. ‘You do not look comfortable.’
He almost jumps but recovers in time, adjusting his tie. ‘I—I just didn’t expect you to invite me home. We’ve met like, what, three times?’
The bitterness rises again, but I shut it down, echoing the motion in reality by putting down a pot of soup on the table. ‘I must apologise for my lack of a dining table,’ I say. I pull up a chair opposite Childe, keeping the island between us. I need to see his face for what I am about to do.
‘It’s okay,’ he mumbles, staring into his lap. I am about to press further when he looks up, that smile back on his face. ‘I can’t complain when you’re cooking for me.’
The actual meal is mostly silent. He’s brought his new pair of chopsticks, clumsily attempting to pick up rice grains until I tell him he’s supposed to use them to push the rice into his mouth. He chides me for watching him struggle for so long, and I have to hide my own smile in response.
It is not until I casually mention the time it took to make this bamboo soup that conversation begins to pick up.
‘Four hours?’ He looks horrified, staring into his soup as if it has personally insulted his mother. ‘That’s…’
I shake my head. ‘Four hours is suboptimal. If I had had more time to prepare, a full six-hour session would have benefitted the texture much more.’
‘Six…’ He shakes his head. ‘You’re really something, you know? But that means, —’ He stirs his soup and takes a sip. ‘Oh, that’s good. You invited me on a whim. You’re full of surprises, Mr. Zhongli.’
The soup is definitely undercooked, I decide. But watching Childe scarf down bamboo shoots and pork slices makes it hard for me to feel bad about it.
I had underestimated him, however. After cleaning out his bowl of rice, he looks up at me, head tilted. ‘You want something from me, is it?’
He’s not as naive as I’d thought. I should have expected this from a Fatuus, and even more so from a high-ranking member. I have indeed gotten rusty. Still, this is salvageable. ‘Word on the street says the Fatui are very knowledgeable in certain areas.’
‘Oh? You’re seeking my expertise this time? I’m flattered, really.’
Hook, line. ‘What do you know about dreams?’
A flash of surprise in those eyes, and then he takes a more casual stance on his bar stool. From the thudding sound underneath the table, I can tell that he is swinging his legs. ‘My colleagues don’t let me anywhere near that field… Well, not any more than I need to. They say I’m only good for fighting the… things you find within them.’
‘Nevertheless.’ I place down my chopsticks, averting my gaze to avoid looking into the manic gleam of Childe’s eyes. ‘I have been hearing rumours about the dreams of this city’s people, and I wish for your input.’
He rests his chin atop his hands. ‘I’m listening.’
‘A corpse arrived at the funeral parlour a couple of days ago.’ The best lies are always interspersed with truths. ‘We found nothing unusual with him at first. That was until the director took a scalpel to his throat.’
‘I apologise for ruining your appetite.’ Childe raises an eyebrow, but I continue, ‘His throat was completely hollowed out. Nothing left but bones and skin.’
‘Nice of you to wait until I’ve finished eating,’ says Childe, laughing. ‘But you’re saying you only found the wound after you dissected him?’
‘That is true,’ I say. ‘It was as if the assailant stitched him up before leaving him.’
‘That’s creepy and all,’ says Childe, not looking as if he meant it at all. ‘But what does this have to do with dreams?’
‘I met with his widow on the very same day he passed. She said she could hear him calling for help in her dreams, but something kept her from reaching him.’ I reach for a cup of tea, realising that I had forgotten to make some. ‘The clicking of hundreds of pairs of legs. She said it sounded like a centipede.’
‘Huh,’ says Childe. ‘I don’t mind if you go and make tea, by the way. Watching you reach for nothing is getting really disturbing.’
He waits for me to turn to my kitchen counter before saying, ‘Is that significant in any way? A lot of people are scared of centipedes. It could just be a phobia.’
‘Did you know,’ I say, measuring the correct amount of water to add, ‘that centipedes are a symbol of good luck in Liyue?’
‘Is that so? My people don’t really have much of an opinion on them,’ says Childe. ‘But then again, the only way they’ll see one is if the winter lifts… which I don’t see happening.’
‘Moreover, they also represent longevity.’ I drop tea leaves into my usual teapot. ‘So much so, that when worship of Rex Lapis became widespread, his image of a dragon was combined with the preexisting centipede imagery. Which is why, if you look carefully, some depictions will have extra pairs of legs or mandibles.’
‘I thought people would see him in their dreams?’ Childe slides off his bar stool. I hear him walk around the island in an attempt to watch me. ‘You’d think they would agree on what he looked like.’
‘Ah, but was he meant for mortal eyes?’ I put the cover back over the teapot, feeling a ribbon of steam caress my hand. ‘We comprehend things differently, and gods most of all. Nevertheless, I want to hear your thoughts on the situation.’
‘Hmmm.’ Childe runs a hand through his hair, thinking. ‘If you were to ask me, I’d say… no, I know too little. I’ll have to see for myself.’
‘You do know how to dream, then?’
‘I do know the basics,’ he says. ‘It’s a package deal. Comes with being high-ranking.’
‘Very well.’ I find a pair of teacups on the countertop. Square, but they will do. ‘But do be wary. Most of our records—from the devout, at least—will skim past the adverse effects of dreaming in this way. In fact, the reason we rotated through so many different leaders when Rex Lapis still led us was because of the madness that gripped them too soon. For the mortal mind was not meant to carry such a burden. Yet they volunteered still, all for the collective good of the people.’
Childe makes a ‘tsk’ as I pour us cups of tea. ‘Where’s the fun if they aren’t dangerous? Besides, I’m more interested in what I’ll encounter there. I don’t think I’ve met anything with so many legs yet.’
‘You said before that your colleagues did not allow you near the realm of dreams often. How much, then, do you know about how to enter one?’
Childe’s hand freezes midway, fingertips around his teacup. ‘You just said that it was dangerous. I didn’t take you for the kind of person to take risks.’
I smile, offering to refill his cup. He doesn’t notice, still staring at me with his head tilted.
‘Certain risks must be taken to fulfil a promise,’ I say. ‘Mr. Yang’s widow only has a pretence of closure. I will stop at nothing for the truth.’
Childe finally accepts the refill and finishes his cup in one gulp, flinching at the temperature.
‘If you want to,’ he says. ‘I’ll take you there. Doing it unguided might be too much for someone with no combat experience.’
‘Do not judge a book by its cover,’ I say. ‘I am capable of much more than my appearance might suggest.’
‘Let’s schedule something then,’ he says. Something strange glitters in his eyes—Excitement? Fear? ‘Tell me whenever you’re ready.’
It is then that I realise we have not exchanged phone numbers yet. Childe seems to notice too, holding out his phone for me to type in my number.
When I hand it back to him, he’s almost smiling. ‘I don’t know why I expected you to not have a phone.’
‘Is that your impression of me? Old-fashioned and stuffy?’ I chuckle at the look on his face. ‘I do keep up with the times.’
When I send him off, he waves to me from the end of the corridor. It is at that moment that I have to close the door behind me and lean against it, sliding to the floor as my legs give out from below me.
‘What am I doing?’
The empty apartment has no answer for me.
~~~
We bury Ms. Zhang when the first snow starts to fall. I took over the autopsy this time while the director watched on from a corner with a mug of tea. Entire chunks were missing from her abdomen when I peeled back the skin. Punched straight through, the director observed.
This situation needs my diligence now more than ever. I consider taking another extended break, but I do not wish to let the director deal with this alone.
Thankfully, Childe’s frequent visits seem to raise her spirits. She finally got a chance to get her bucket-on-doorframe trick to work, and the two of them have never been happier.
I had not planned to meet him again so soon, before I inspected the dream. Nevertheless, I force myself to look into his eyes, watch as he pries open bits of his heart to someone he thinks he should trust.
He told me during one of our lunches about his family. Too much about his family. I had not asked him about his past, thinking it too invasive. Perhaps I should be honoured that he would trust me with something so vulnerable, but I do not think it is that simple.
We agreed to get something from a roadside stall and eat at the parlour, next to the fireplace where we would be safe from the biting winds. The director got bored of stoking the fire and went to take care of a client who saw it fit to visit during the lunch hour, leaving the two of us alone in our corner. Childe took off his scarf and wrapped the long red fabric around his arms, more for amusement than for warmth.
He took a bite out of his pork bun and told me it was like being home again, when boiling water froze before it hit the ground and his parents forbade him and his siblings to go outside. They would take marshmallows and roast them over the fire, and if he was feeling particularly adventurous, he would dare his brothers to throw in a pinecone or two.
That segued into talking about our families. He asked me if I had any family, thinking of me as the kind of person to just ‘spawn in’. I said I do not remember much of my life before studying anthropology in a local university. Perhaps he is right: I am the kind of person to appear one day and become a fully functioning member of society. I must have said that part out loud, because he was laughing so hard by the time I finished.
‘Ah, you’re so…’ He wiped his eyes. ‘Unintentionally funny.’
I found myself smiling at that. Speaking of which, I said, he hadn’t told me much about himself either. All I knew was that he had three younger siblings.
‘I don’t see them often these days,’ he said, leaning closer to the fire. A spark leaps out of it, barely missing his cheek. ‘Work calls. I try, though. So far they’re easily placated with gifts, but Tonia is getting older and wiser. I think she’s beginning to suspect something in her letters to me, and my parents aren’t helping on that front.’
My curiosity is piqued. ‘Do you have any other siblings?’
‘Yeah, I’m a middle child, if you believe it!’ he laughed. He untwisted his scarf and held it up. ‘You’re shivering.’
I was not, but he draped the scarf over my shoulders anyway. I didn’t have the heart to refuse. He was staring into the fire, eyes glazed over, lost in some distant past.
‘I don’t remember much about my older siblings, funnily enough,’ he murmured. Another spark leapt out of the fire, and he grabbed it with his ungloved hand, flinching at the heat. ‘Everything before… well, everything before I turned fourteen becomes blurrier each year.’
I didn’t press for more details. There was something terribly fragile that hung in the air, something that risked destruction under one false move. Childe curled and uncurled his fingers, and finally spoke. His parents sent him to the Fatui that year, he said.
‘Nothing gained, nothing lost,’ he said, nibbling on his fingernails. ‘Don’t worry, I turned out fine. They helped find somewhere I could put myself to use.’ He tilted his head then, looking at me owlishly. ‘Why are you looking at me like that?’
The Fatui are not kind to children or childhood. The too-small coffins that line the walls of Snezhnayan funeral parlours, the hospitals that act more like prisons for children gripped by unseen horrors after their missions, all of that makes it clear enough. Is he rationalising his abandonment, or is he making the best of a horrific situation?
I have the feeling that I am seeing the shadows on the wall, and the truth is something I have to carve out of him personally.
I had wanted to spur him into action, watch him try and cover up his involvement with the rifts. But now, I wish to find the dream untouched, the individual who first tampered with it nowhere to be found. Selfish on my part, I suppose, to want an excuse to look the other way.
The weekend is tomorrow, and Xiao has agreed to accompany me to investigate the dream once more. We have agreed, without a single word, that we will look for an answer.
~~~
When I contemplate (out loud) about leaving the orchestra, Ganyu almost drops her roll of tape.
‘But it’s not like it takes up too much time,’ she says, turning the knob on her instrument. ‘What happened?’
I try to make up an excuse, but nothing comes out. Ganyu sighs.
‘Just… could you stick around for one last performance, Mr. Zhongli? Word on the street says the Tianquan is coming to watch the next one. And you’re… well, you’re good.’
‘And,’ she says conspiratorially, lowering her voice, ‘Shenhe is coming to practise next time.’
That almost makes me drop my bow.
‘She’s finally agreed to come?’
‘She’s finally found an instrument she likes,’ says Ganyu. ‘And I’m trying to be supportive, but she brought home a suona.’
‘Oh. Is that why…’ I gesture to the bags under her eyes.
She nods glumly, twisting the knob with too much force. The string snaps and hits her in the face, and she lets out a sad whimper.
‘I’ll get a replacement for you,’ I say, indicating her bag.
I find the replacement strings in the outside pocket of her backpack, picking out the thinnest one and passing it to her. Ganyu takes it with a nod, looking at me with a strange look in her eye.
‘Please?’ she says. ‘One last time. Let’s do something together again, with… Shenhe.’
I sigh, the next words tumbling out in a moment of weakness. ‘You remind me of your mother sometimes.’
Ganyu’s eyes go wide. ‘You knew her?’
Oh. She doesn’t know. But here is a chance to tell her, hope to mend whatever happened between us. I force myself to meet her eyes.
‘She wants you to know…’ I look around. We are the only people backstage once more, the other dispersing after a practice session. ‘She didn’t mean to leave you. And if… if she were safer to be around, she would not have left you.’
‘I never blamed her,’ Ganyu whispers, her shoulders drooping, ‘I couldn’t. I knew she was ill, I just wish she could have written to me, at least once.’
‘She loved you to the end,’ I continue. ‘She tried her best to recover just to see you one last time. For a time, we thought she was almost there. So close, she could almost touch the sun. But she…’ She dreamed again. She saw.
‘I’m sorry.’
Ganyu shakes her head. ‘You don’t have anything to apologise for. Just knowing that she… I’m sorry. I need some time to process this.’
She tucks her instrument back into her case and leaves. I listen to her leave, to the whistling of winter wind through the open door.
Two more weeks, I think.
Why was I even here in the first place? To familiarise myself with her domain in an attempt to understand her? And now, now…
Must I make everything my duty?