Zhongli arrives at his stop with ten minutes to spare, so he makes a call.
Childe is quick to pick up the phone, though it sounds like he’s in the middle of a conversation. ‘Just hold him there, Andrei, he’s just one guy—oh, hello. What’s the matter?’
‘I’m not seeing you here at the Yujing Station. Are you lost again?’
Zhongli has to hold the phone away from his ear as Childe hisses a string of expletives.
‘Damn it. I forgot we had…’ Zhongli knows he’s rubbing the bridge of his nose from the length of his sigh. ‘Tell the secretary lady I’m sorry, okay? Last minute business came up and—WATCH OUT!’
Zhongli flinches at the resounding crash from Childe’s end. He thinks he can hear the faint sound of yelling, but Childe has picked up his phone again, his tone back to normal.
‘Oh, I forgot to tell you. They’re freezing my bank account.’
Zhongli nearly drops his phone.
‘Did they give you a reason?’
‘Yeah. Alina, move. Sorry about that. They said the amount I’m spending is suspicious and that they’ll be looking for any strange activity on the account. I’ll explain to them later. Say it’s just a few antiques—’
‘If my spending habits are causing you financial strain,’ says Zhongli, keeping his voice low, ‘I will make sure to curb them in the future.’
‘Hah, there’s no need. I have plenty to spare. It’s just bank protocol, you know how it is—OW! Stop shooting me—ARGH!’
Zhongli drops his phone for real this time. Thankfully, the people in the station are too busy making their way past the ticket barriers to pay any attention to the overdressed man next to a vending machine. He winces at the crack on the screen. This time, he holds the phone a cautious distance from his ear.
‘What’s going on?’
Childe doesn’t answer. Instead, all he can hear is a cacophony of yelling, cries of help, and what sounds awfully similar to fireworks. Looking around, Zhongli whispers a barely audible ‘Hello?’
‘Sorry,’ says Childe, almost shouting to make himself heard over… whatever the hell is going on on his end. ‘There’s a lot going on.’
‘You didn’t have to contact me in the middle of such an important task.’
‘Nah. I’d forget.’ Zhongli hears the unmistakable sound of shoes squeaking against marble. Childe is panting the next time he speaks. ‘I’m—I’ll see you at dinner, okay?’
He hangs up. Zhongli stands still, holding his phone in his hand, then shakes his head quickly. He, too, has business to attend to.
It’s raining when he exits the underground station, typical of the harbour at this time of year. He sees his contact immediately, balancing a clipboard on her horns to shield herself from the rain. She writes on a separate, smaller clipboard, her eyes glued to the paper.
He stands next to her, umbrella held over the two of them, and waits for Ganyu to notice him.
She only does when his arm bumps against hers. The clipboard balanced on her head falls as she jumps, but she manages to catch it before it hits the ground. Ganyu blinks up at him, eyes swollen from lack of sleep.
‘Right on time.’ Even with her haggard look, she sounds as professional as ever.
‘I do not neglect my responsibilities.’
Ganyu looks around, still attempting to blink the dryness out of her eyes. Apart from a few stragglers, hurrying to get out of the rain, the area is completely deserted.
‘Where’s your friend?’
‘He is…’ Zhongli lowers his voice. ‘Preoccupied.’
‘I see. Follow me.’
Most of Yujing Terrace is on a raised platform, only accessible by a flight of stairs. Today the right path is blocked off, the construction of a ramp paused by the rain. Zhongli carefully steps over a bag of cement to follow Ganyu up the stairs, her poise and speed unbothered by the weather.
Her office building is close, and the two of them make a beeline for it. Ganyu dashes through the lobby, dodging around curious employees and a water cooler. Zhongli follows her to the end of the corridor, into a room the size of a closet. Ganyu locks the door as soon as he enters.
‘I believe you have the basic details already,’ she says, adding a padlock onto her door. Zhongli nods.
‘What I don’t understand,’ he says, ‘is why I need a partner for this particular task. I have never run into any complications that require another person to solve.’
‘Well, you see,’ Ganyu seats herself at her desk, motioning for Zhongli to join. ‘This time is a little bit… different.’
‘Is it particularly dangerous?’
Ganyu twiddles her thumbs. She has switched on the lights in the office at some point, and these things are bright. Not the calm yellow he has come to associate with this place. Zhongli scratches his nose and holds back the urge to sneeze.
‘Well,’ Ganyu says again. She rests her hands on the clipboard in front of her. ‘They call Liyue—’
‘A graveyard of gods.’ A less savoury facet of the nation that the locals refuse to mention unless sufficiently inebriated. Like it or not, sealed beneath their feet are years and years of a long, bloody history.
‘I do not doubt your experience in dealing with the lingering resentment of dead gods,’ says Ganyu, idly scribbling on her clipboard. Zhongli cannot make out the words with his watery eyes, hurting from the sheer brightness of the room. The tiles have been replaced too, some sort of ceramic that finds a way to reflect light directly into your eyes.
Ganyu puts down her pencil and intertwines her fingers. ‘This one, however… is far from dead.’
Zhongli blinks.
Ganyu shows him her clipboard. ‘I think we both know this location very well.’
It’s a hand-drawn map, with a name scribbled in the corner that clears any ambiguity of the location. The Chasm. A long-abandoned mining site, recently reopened under the watchful eyes of the Qixing. And the subject of several unfortunate accidents in these few weeks.
Zhongli intertwines his fingers as well. ‘Does this have any connections to… that case?’
‘We believe so. Did three perfectly sane, well-adjusted adults suddenly lose their minds and go on a week-long trek around the perimeter of the Chasm for no reason at all? No, we believe that there are other, more sinister forces at play. And now that we have these photographs… well, all the doubt’s gone, isn’t it?’
She places the photographs on top of the map. As usual, the image is distorted, accompanied by the slight smell of burned film, but Zhongli has enough experience to recognise it for what it is.
Not even remnants. Not just echoes. An entire body.
‘The Qixing have closed down the place. And the reason we suspect it might still be alive is that, well,’ she pauses. ‘We talked to one of the victims, and he was convinced—adamant—that there was a voice telling him what to do every step of the way, and he knew that it came from the deepest part of the mines.
‘I took these photos myself,’ says Ganyu. ‘Don’t worry, I’m perfectly fine. The real thing is much bigger. And…’
She meets his eyes, the secret shared between them rearing its head.
‘I know we shouldn’t assume the worst,’ says Ganyu. ‘But if it’s who I’m thinking of, then…’
‘Then it will have been there for at least a thousand years,’ says Zhongli, fully aware of how dry his throat is. ‘Throughout all my years, I have only encountered several cases of remnants that refuse to rot. All have one thing in common.’
Ganyu looks at him, and he sees the faintest trace of fear in her eyes.
‘What does he want?’ she whispers.
Thoughts race through his head, of the destruction of a city, of a mind lost to the sands of time, drowned in rage and hate.
‘We will find out. And we will do our best to fulfil his last request. If it is impossible, if he still insists on breaking his contract… I will do as I did last time.’
‘Is that even possible?’
‘I will find a way.’ Zhongli closes his eyes against the glare of the office. ‘Did you change these lights?’
‘Ah, no. Baiwen was kind enough to get me replacement lightbulbs when mine burned out. I forgot to tell her to get the other kind. So… I’m stuck with these LEDs. Do you want these shades?’
Zhongli opens a single eye to take in the pair of sunglasses she’s holding out. He takes them and puts them on. Not much better, but at least his eyes don’t hurt.
‘So… what happened to your friend?’
‘Ah. Childe.’ Zhongli rubs his forehead in an attempt to cull the already-building migraine. ‘He said he was busy with work. And he apologises for missing our meeting.’
‘If I may suggest, Zhongli-xiansheng,’ says Ganyu, putting on a pair of shades herself, ‘Maybe you can pick another partner to help with this case. Someone a bit more familiar with our customs. Director Hu, perhaps?’
‘I’m not putting her in more danger than she already puts herself in,’ says Zhongli, a little too sharply. Softer now, he says, ‘Childe learns fast. And I know from experience that despite his… antics, he is more than trustworthy as a partner.’
‘Hmm.’ Ganyu doesn’t sound convinced.
‘I called him today. He stopped in the middle of a gunfight,’ says Zhongli. ‘Just to inform me that the bank froze his account.’
‘Huh? Why?’
‘Apparently, my spending habits are too frivolous to be considered free of suspicion. He did say he’ll take care of it, however.’
Ganyu’s sunglasses slide down her nose to reveal her widened eyes. Zhongli watches her open and close her mouth several times before giving up and pushing her glasses back up.
‘I mean—I—I trust your judgement. Still, there is no such thing as being overly cautious when dealing with a man like that. Do you know what the Northland Bank’s customers call him behind his back?
‘They say it as a warning every time their friends try to make a loan,’ says Ganyu. ‘Make sure you can pay it back, plus interest, or you’ll find yourself facing down the Tsaritsa’s rabid dog. The blood that coats his hands are no rumours, Mr. Zhongli.’
‘Ah, I see.’ Zhongli stands up. From what he can hear, the rain outside has only grown stronger. He’ll have to resort to calling a taxi. ‘I’ve handled my fair share of “feral dogs”.’
‘This one is different,’ says Ganyu, fishing for a set of keys from her pocket. ‘I will assist you whenever possible.’
‘Get yourself more than four hours of sleep a day,’ says Zhongli, ‘and we can talk about offering me assistance.’
Ganyu chuckles but masks it quickly with a sigh. ‘It’s been a pleasure working with you,’ she says, throwing open her office door. ‘Tell me as soon as you have anything planned. Our department is more than eager to help.’
The lobby is mostly deserted when Zhongli leaves. Out on the pavement, he keeps an eye out for a taxi. The rain reaches under the awnings with the help of the wind, drenching his coat and trousers. He’ll have to borrow the funeral parlour’s dryer again. This weather is not friendly to laundry of any sort.
Briefly, he considers calling Childe, but the man is probably not done with his business. Worry wells in him as he thinks of what Childe is doing. He’ll be fine. He’s never received more than a few scratches from his encounters with more violent clients.
The honk of a car horn shakes him from his reverie. The taxi driver is staring straight ahead with dead eyes, only responding with a grunt when Zhongli makes it into the vehicle.
On the way home, he watches the raindrops, keeping his memories at the edges of his thoughts. He’ll sort through them later, when he’s somewhere more comforting.
~~~
%nbsp;
‘Yo, xiansheng!’
Zhongli tears his gaze away from the bank teller in front of him—or at least he assumes that’s the bank teller. He hasn’t been able to see properly since he left Ganyu’s office. Maybe his age is finally catching up with him, though he doesn’t remember if the dark tint clouding his vision is one of the symptoms of cataracts.
The double doors of the Northland Bank slam shut behind a man with a shock of ginger hair. Zhongli smiles to himself, recognising the way his suit jacket flows from his shoulders like a cape, barely held there by a brooch.
‘Childe. Good evening.’
‘I arrived at Xinyue on time, I promise, and they told me you were here. And—oh, are you on duty, Yulia?’
‘Ask him why he’s wearing that,’ the bank teller says in an audible whisper. Childe raises an eyebrow.
Zhongli gives Yulia a quizzical glance and looks down. Suit and tie, complete with a long overcoat. Nothing out of the ordinary. ‘Is there a problem?’
‘The glasses,’ hisses Yulia.
Childe reaches out a gloved hand and tugs at the pair of glasses still perched on Zhongli’s nose. ‘Sunglasses? Finally getting more acquainted with the times, huh?’
Ah, that explains his suddenly worse vision. Taking the shades off and tucking them into his pocket, he takes in the situation before him: the bored-looking bank teller, scrolling through something on her phone, and Childe, hands on his hips, his eyepatch slightly crooked. He’s not wearing his tie, and he’s forgotten to fasten the topmost buttons of his shirt. With a jolt, Zhongli catches the glimpse of a bloodied bandage under his shirt.
‘You’re injured.’
Childe snorts. ‘Clients these days… too feisty for their own good. Don’t worry, the worst one was a gunshot to the leg. Lost some blood, but I’m still alive.’
Zhongli sighs. ‘I wish you would stop saying that.’
‘Oh, Yulia,’ Childe says, turning to the bank teller. She puts down her phone and sits up straighter. ‘How’s work?’
She makes sure Zhongli is looking directly at her before rolling her eyes. Childe tuts.
‘Come on, there’s no need to be mean. What’s this fine gentleman here for?’
‘Trying to withdraw money from an empty savings account,’ says Yulia, deadpan. ‘I’ve told him that three times already.’
‘I distinctly remember depositing my savings here,’ says Zhongli.
‘Into which account?’
‘Into yours,’ says Yulia, typing away at her desktop computer.
Oh. That explained… everything, in fact. ‘Ah. I remember now. I could not remember how to access my account that day, and I did not feel comfortable leaving with such a large sum of money on my person. I deposited it into your account.’
It’s one of those uncomfortable moments where he swears Childe is staring straight into his soul with that singular right eye. But it passes quickly, and Childe turns to Yulia with a smile.
‘Aha, so that’s where all the extra figures came from. Speaking of which, Yulia, how do I unfreeze my account?’
The procedure takes way too long, and when it is done, Zhongli is sure that the staff at Xinyue Kiosk have given up their reservation to someone else. Childe remains bright and cheery throughout, even when he has to fill in form after form, dictating his details to a suddenly very motivated Yulia.
‘I withdrew enough cash to last us through this week,’ says Childe. ‘Seriously, though, next time you run into a problem like that, you can just tell me. The bank answers to me, I’m sure you know that.’
‘It… did not occur to me at the time.’
Childe chuckles and motions for Zhongli to follow him.
Xinyue Kiosk is just downstairs, and with incredible luck, the staff have decided to wait for them, though not without a considerable amount of side-eyeing. Their usual table is located behind the privacy of a bamboo folding screen, which suits Zhongli very well.
‘Miss Ganyu is hesitant about entrusting this information to you,’ he begins as soon as their waiter leaves. Childe is leaning back in his chair, staring straight up at the ceiling, but Zhongli knows he is listening. ‘But I consider you the best pick for this collaboration.’
Childe nods once.
‘Have you heard of the happenings at the Chasm?’
Childe sits up straight at that. ‘I have. Wait, don’t tell me. Let me put together the pieces, it’s more fun that way.’
He stays uncharacteristically quiet throughout their meal, not even to lament about the buns he fails to pick up with chopsticks. Zhongli slips extra food into his bowl when Childe looks particularly deep in thought, especially the squid he’s fished out of their seafood stew. All of the squid, actually..
‘Oho,’ says Childe suddenly. ‘What a nice surprise you’ve prepared for me, dear consultant.’
‘I would not describe this task as “nice” in any way.’
‘Aah, you don’t understand. You’ve found something you can’t take care of alone, and that means it’s at least stronger than the people Ekaterina’s been sending me after these few weeks. How else would I de-rust?’
Zhongli places down his bowl and chopsticks. Childe has his elbows on the table, all etiquette forgotten with the promise of a challenge. Ganyu’s warnings swim in his head as Zhongli meets Childe’s eye. Its usual dullness is only emphasised by the endless void now behind it, as if a lid has been lifted off an unused well.
Zhongli tears his gaze away and reaches for his teacup. A couple drops spill onto the tablecloth as he misses, his fingers grazing its surface.
‘As much as I would like for you to entertain yourself, I would like to avoid conflict as much as possible. This… particular case is not an ordinary echo. Considering its history…’
His voice trails off. Childe rests his chin atop his fingers, blinking innocently.
‘Is this another one of Liyue’s skeletons?’
‘It’s… a long story.’
‘Since when have I ever complained about you talking too much?’ Childe laughs. ‘Tell me on the train home. I’ll pay for dinner this time.’
‘I appreciate your generosity. However—’
‘You don’t have your wallet on you.’ As Zhongli begins to rummage frantically through his pockets, fishing for a nonexistent wallet in the sea of receipts, Childe pats him on the shoulder. ‘It’s okay. You can make up for it by helping me pick out a gift for my brother.’
‘To owe so many debts…’ Zhongli mutters. ‘It is most unfitting.’
‘Don’t worry. I’ll make sure Ekaterina doesn’t send her hit squad. You’re more valuable to me alive, anyway.’ Childe shoves aside the bamboo folding screen and signals for a waiter.
‘And,’ he adds, turning back to Zhongli with a slight smile, ‘I find that I am quite fond of you.’