Chapter Text
By order of the Liyue Qixing, all members of the Fatui who are non-essential to the day-to-day operations of Northland Bank are to leave Liyue by the end of the month.
Please note: Harbingers do not qualify as essential staff.
Childe crumpled the letter in his fist and tossed it into the wastepaper basket beside his desk. Harbingers do not qualify as essential staff? They could’ve just sent him a note with Tartaglia get out written on it and saved all the fancy language.
He resumed his pacing.
Childe’s status in Liyue had been on tenterhooks since the Golden House incident which, admittedly, had been his fault. The incident which had incited the letter, however, had been completely unintentional on his part.
One week prior, the final day of the Lantern Rite celebrations had been in full swing. Food stands lined the streets, the sweet and salty aromas of their goods mingling so that a taste of the air allowed Childe to sample their flavours, tingling on the tip of his tongue. He had been making the most of the evening, holding a freshly packed mora meat in his left hand and a grilled tiger fish skewer in his right while the buzz of the crowd hummed through him. A man with long, dark hair with golden tips had called out to him at one point, but Childe had made the decision to ignore him.
As he’d been about to take the ramp to the docks to see what was on offer down there, the cry of a child distracted him.
“I can’t believe I missed them! It’s not fair!” bawled a young girl, face scrunched, red and damp with tears. Two equally young boys stood beside her, patting her on the shoulder.
“It’s okay, Lulu, they’ll have more next year.”
“But I don’t want to see them next year, I want to see them this year!” She dissolved into a fresh fit of sobs, interspersed with snotty snivels that she wiped on her sleeve.
Childe must’ve been staring, because one the boys turned to him and waved.
“Hey, over there! Can you tell the other adults to do the fireworks again? Lulu missed them because her parents made her do chores, which is really, really mean!”
They had come to the right person, because while Childe considered himself to have few weaknesses, the mere hint of an unhappy child was his ultimate foil. The girl looked at him, crying paused and eyes drawn wide with hope, and Childe was defeated. He walked over to their group and squatted down to match their height as three pairs of eyes fixed on him.
“Well,” he said, “that doesn’t sound very nice of your parents, Lulu.”
“No, it isn’t!” The other boy piped up, “Meng and I even went to ask special permission for her to come out with us, but they still said no. My name’s Fei, by the way.”
“Nice to meet you all, my name’s Tartaglia, but you can call me Childe.”
“Mister Childe, can you make them do the fireworks again?” asked Fei.
The children stared at him, filled with dreams of an evening of fireworks and fun, and if there was one thing Childe didn’t do, it was let the dreams of a child go unfulfilled. Besides, it was hardly a difficult request to carry out – sure, he wasn’t supposed to use his Harbinger status to access Fatui supplies for external purposes, but if it made these few children happy, what could be the harm?
Childe shook his head. “I don’t think I can ask them to do that, but what if I said that I have my own special fireworks to put on a show for you guys, how does that sound?”
That was how he’d ended up carting a selection of the Fatui’s supply of Tactical Distraction Fireworks down to the docks to put on a firework show for three children he’d met only five minutes prior. Their faces had made the excursion more than worth it: Lulu’s tears had dried and her eyes sparkled, Fei hopped from foot to foot in anticipation and Meng clapped his hands as Childe explained to him what each firework in the collection was about to do.
The display set, he placed the match to the fuse before jogging back to where the three children waited a safe distance away. The rockets launched in a series of sparkles and flashes, forming patterns of flowers, hearts, and stars. It was quite spectacular, if he did say so himself. The images lit up the sky in a glittering array and the children oohed and aahed as the rainbow of colour flickered above the ocean.
It was all so wonderful. Until it wasn’t.
It happened so fast. One second they were admiring the show, the next Childe watched on in horror as one of the rockets careened off at an angle, striking a large transport ship that sat docked nearby. With a deafening bang, a pillar of smoke and ash spiralled into the sky, the ocean wind carrying its bitter scent to where Childe sat, the acrid fumes stinging his eyes and nose. Flames raged across the hull and up the mast, and a few figures launched themselves from the deck into the water below.
“Oh dear,” said Fei, “Isn’t that Merchant Wu’s ship?”
It was.
Merchant Wu was not happy about the destruction of his prized ship. Merchant Wu was also responsible for 70% of Liyue’s fashion-related imports and exports over the past year. As a result, despite Childe’s protests that this time it really wasn’t his fault, the Qixing had deemed the incident malicious sabotage conducted by the Fatui in order to weaken Liyue’s economy.
Childe sighed.
He’d come to enjoy Liyue: the way the air was always warm so that he didn’t have to shiver under a dozen blankets to sleep at night, the ocean that sparkled blue and clear instead of grey and gloomy and, up until a certain day, the company had been pleasant, filling his nights with eager conversation and emptied wine glasses.
But Childe wasn’t thinking about him.
Childe was leaving. Her Majesty hadn’t sent him his next orders yet, so he could kill some time on Dragonspine: ice fishing, climbing the peaks and making light work of the ruin guards and ruin graders that littered the area. He pulled out a box from the storage cupboard and set to placing the stationery from his desk into it; if he was leaving, he wouldn’t be needing them any time soon.
When the box was about half-full, there was a sharp tap on his door.
“Come in,” he called as he heaved a thick folder onto his chair, thumbing through to decide which documents to keep and which to throw out while absent-mindedly tossing a trinket in his spare hand.
“Good afternoon, sir.” Ekaterina hovered by the door, an envelope in her hand. More bills, no doubt – after all the repatriations they’d made him pay, the Qixing still had the nerve to threaten him with deportation.
He waved a hand. “Put it on the desk, Katya, I’ll deal with the Qixing’s demands later.”
Ekaterina came to stand by the desk and hesitated. “Erm, sir…”
“Really, it’s fine, they can wait a day.”
“It’s not from the Qixing.”
“Oh?”
“It’s from Her Majesty.”
Childe dropped the ornament with a clang and grabbed the envelope from Ekaterina, tearing open the seal and pulling out the letter.
My loyal Tartaglia,
It has been a number of months since we were last in contact, following your previous assignment with Morax. I must commend you once again for your actions that led us to successfully securing the gnosis.
Following communications with Pulcinella this past month, I have been informed that when the Chasm was sealed by the Qixing, he was forced to dispose of some valuable assets in the underground caverns.
As you are currently situated in Liyue, I hereby task you with entering the Chasm and retrieving them. I understand this may be a difficult task given the current diplomatic situation, but I require that you complete your mission by the end of September.
Please ensure you keep the contents of this letter STRICTLY CONFIDENTIAL and destroy it promptly after you have absorbed them.
I trust there will be no issue.
The Tsaritsa
The end of September. He had just under seven months.
Childe stared at the letter, a well of trepidation building within him. The only thing more difficult than completing a mission in a nation where he was hated, was completing a mission in a nation where he was being threatened with imminent deportation. But if Her Majesty’s will commanded it, he would have to find a way. He nodded to Ekaterina, dismissing her, and sat down to pen a response.
His trip to Dragonspine would have to wait.
Childe was having a bad week. In fact, Childe was having a bad month, having spent it trying to find some way for him to be able to stay in Liyue. Not only had he failed, he’d been actively denied – every other employee of Northland Bank had been granted their Work Permits by the Qixing, some on the same day they’d filed the paperwork. Childe had waited a week, only to be denied with no reason stated.
It shouldn’t have mattered; Ekaterina had strewn a plethora of folders across his desk with the different permits through which one could remain in Liyue, stuffed full with pages of legislation detailing the exact documentation required to acquire them.
But it did matter, because despite meeting every requirement, each one had been declined as soon as they’d read his name – he knew this because each application had been returned with a large, red X through the word “Tartaglia”.
After five rejected applications, he’d even applied to the Liyue Research Association as a student. A sleepless night he’d spent studying for the entrance test, the room filled with the scent of long-burning candles and over-brewed coffee as pen scratched against parchment. Then when morning came, he took the exam and he passed. He should’ve been in, but again he was denied.
That had been the same afternoon his work permit rejection had come back. Sat with the two crossed out applications on the desk in front of him, he’d been on the verge of throwing the entire thing out the window.
Now, he had one week left to find a solution. Leaving Liyue was not an option; he’d rather face the wrath of the Qixing than the wrath of The Tsaritsa, which was why he was walking down the business district of Liyue with his coin purse jingling heavy on his belt. There was one person left in Liyue who could help him and her services came at a hefty price, 180,000 mora an hour to be precise.
Childe stopped at the address he’d been given, raising the weighty brass knocker and tapping three times against the door. There was a brief silence, followed by the sound of footsteps scuffling down the hall. Five clicks as someone flicked the bolts back and the door opened. A woman in red stood behind it, a book titled Legal Codices of Liyue: A Brief History grasped in her hand. Childe wasn’t sure the author understood the definition of ‘brief’, for the volume was as thick as the woman’s head was wide.
“Ah!” She nearly dropped the book from her hands when she laid eyes on him. “When I was told to expect a client from the Fatui, I must admit I wasn’t quite expecting you, Harbinger Tartaglia.”
Childe extended a hand. “Please, just Childe is fine. The renowned Yanfei, I presume?”
Yanfei propped her book into one arm and returned the handshake. “Renowned is a bit of an overstatement, but I know the law and I always put my best effort in for the client, no matter their background. Anyway, you’d better come in so we can get started on your case!”
Childe followed her down a hallway, the walls lined with bookshelves stuffed with legal codices. Every ten metres or so, the bookshelves parted, allowing room for a single door to squeeze in between them, each with a golden name plaque nailed to it. Dust floated in the beams of light that streaked down from the high windows and Childe wondered how often anyone took the time to clean the neglected expanse of bookshelves.
Yanfei’s office was the furthest from the entrance. She unlocked the door and let them into an office that seemed far too old-fashioned for the person occupying it. Childe sat in one of the velvet-covered seats on one side of the desk and idly flicked a metal bearing one of the strange gadgets littered on it. The ball clicked back into place, launching the one on the opposite side, before that too fell back with another click, the original one starting the pattern over. The clicks counted down the seconds as Yanfei pondered over a shelf in the corner, running her finger over the spines of volumes with far-too-complicated titles.
After several hmms and maybes, she pulled one from the shelf, hefting it over to the desk and dumping it down unceremoniously.
“Immigration Law and Permits, 5th Edition,” she announced, as though that was supposed to mean something. “Of course, after the Qixing’s latest announcement there were a number amendments made, particularly to Chapter Six, Section Five, Chapter Twelve, Section Two, as well as a number of articles within several other chapters… but not to worry – I have this Notice of Amendment which describes each change in detail.” She pulled another piece of paper out of a drawer and slid it onto the desk next to the book. “Now, tell me the problem and we’ll see what we can do!”
“Well, the latest announcement from the Qixing has put me in a bit of a… predicament, you might say.”
“Ah yes, no non-essential staff to remain at Northland Bank, although it could be argued that for Liyue’s economy… ahem, never mind that! Well, if you’re looking to stay in Liyue, I’m sure there’s something in here that will work for you.” She heaved the book open at the middle, the desk vibrating as it landed. “Now, according to the announcement, the rank of Harbinger alone doesn’t qualify you for essential status, but if you had another role within the bank that you could apply under–”
“Tried that.” Childe flicked the clicky-device again. “Rejected after a week.”
“I see.” A frown crossed her face for a fraction of a second before she perked up again and dove back into the monster volume. “Well! There’s plenty of other options, for example, under Chapter Five, Section Seven, anyone who wishes to stay in Liyue for tourism purposes…” She looked up at him expectantly.
“Tried that too.”
“Ok, well, there’s one way that’s almost foolproof! Aside from being the Nation of Contracts and Commerce, Liyue also prizes itself on its history and therefore the research of–”
“Ha!” The laugh came out involuntarily. He’d come to her with expectations; he’d been assured by everyone that he’d spoken that the illustrious Yanfei would surely, absolutely have a solution for him, and yet even she’d come to a dead end. He’d underestimated the Qixing, underestimated their ability to make Liyue one hundred percent Tartagliaproof. He groaned and slid an elbow onto the table, resting his head in his palm. What was he going to tell Her Majesty?
His distress must’ve been apparent as Yanfei reached a hand forward, as though she were about to pat him on the arm before she retracted it. Instead, she pulled out a teapot from behind a pile of folders and pushed it toward him before burying her nose back into her laws and regulations. Childe didn’t pour himself any. Tea didn’t taste as good to him since–
“Ah ha!” Yanfei slammed the book shut and a cloud of dust puffed out. “There’s one more option!”
“Oh?” Anything, he’d take anything.
“You aren’t uh… dating anyone in Liyue are you? No significant other? No secret moonlit lover?”
Anything but that.
Childe was not. In fact, Childe had never dated anyone. Between battling and travelling and otherwise serving Her Majesty, the thought had never crossed his mind. However, he wasn’t about to admit that to his lawyer.
“And if I was?”
“Well, if you were in a relationship with a Liyue citizen or resident, the Qixing are obliged to grant an initial permit for you to stay for seven months, regardless of diplomatic status or any other prejudice, after which you can apply to renew the permit.”
“I see.”
“So, do you have someone?” She leant forward, fingers steepled together.
“I–” Childe debated how to respond before settling on a neutral “–I prefer to keep these things private.”
Yanfei sat back, shoulders slumping. “Well, if you’re not willing to declare it, then it looks like you’re out of options. I’m sorry I couldn’t be more help.”
“It’s… it’s fine.” Childe pushed his chair back and stood, dumping the pouch of mora on her desk before heading to the door. “Thanks for your time.”
Well, that had been useless. Slumped against the railing, Childe kicked his toes against the wall, loosely observing the comings and goings of the harbour: the dock workers hauling their loads, the families bounding along with their luggage bouncing against their legs, and the ships that came and went, masts billowing in the wind.
Childe was going to be on a ship, very soon in fact, if he couldn’t come up with a plan. The chances of that plan making itself known to him were becoming slimmer with each passing day; his situation was hopeless even to Yanfei, the brightest mind in Liyuean legal code. Which, in short, meant that he was completely screwed.
He’d hoped that she might have provided something other than a rehashing of the ideas he’d already tried, but then she’d gone and suggested that. She’d suggested an idea so utterly preposterous, ridiculous, truly absurd…and his only hope.
Now that he thought more about it, it was so bizarre that it could just work.
He groaned and rested his chin on the back of his hands. Where was he going to find a date with barely a week left in Liyue? Regardless of his own willingness in the matter, no-one in Liyue was going to date a member of the Fatui, let alone the Harbinger who’d let an ancient sea god loose in their harbour. In fact, his job left him quite undateable on a global scale; those within the Fatui feared or were at least apprehensive of him, and those outside of it hated him.
Below him, a young man presented a woman with a flower and she giggled, cheeks flushing as she hid her head behind her hands. The man placed the flower in her hair and leaned forward to whisper something in her ear, at which the woman giggled again. Turning to leave, he reached out and took her hand in his own: strong, firm, and certainly not as bloodstained and death-tainted as Childe’s were.
No, no-one would date him willingly.
But if no-one would date him for real, it couldn’t hurt to pretend, right?
He could pay someone, someone willing to go along with it just long enough for him to do as he needed before he dipped from Liyue for good. He didn’t have to care about them and they didn’t have to care about him, they only had to be willing to act the part. Even so, there was an inherent risk in the plan – if the Qixing caught a hint that a certain Fatui member was trying to buy a date, his permit would be denied once again no matter how convincing his performance was.
Childe considered himself a good actor: he played the role of the heroic older brother around his siblings; with his men, he played the powerful and commanding Harbinger, a man to be respected and obeyed; and he played the perfect scapegoat villain in Zhongli’s grand retirement theatrics.
Zhongli.
Now there was a man capable of maintaining a façade; Childe had certainly been fooled by his eccentric wise guy act. At some point during his time in Liyue, Zhongli even convinced him into believing that he actually enjoyed Childe’s company, when the entire time Zhongli had been prodding him toward the direction of the inevitable conclusion, as though leading a bull to the slaughterhouse. It had been admirable, truly.
But Zhongli didn’t appear to understand that when you were done borrowing other people’s things, you were supposed to give them back. For weeks after Osial’s release, he’d hounded after Childe, requesting his company at restaurants, beaches, the theatre, claiming to be wanting to earn his forgiveness. Childe didn’t understand, for there was nothing to forgive and no reason for them to interact further; The Tsaritsa had lent Zhongli the perfect tool to generate the chaos he had required and now it was time for him to return it to its original owner. Besides, if he truly wished for forgiveness, a duel would’ve sufficed plenty.
Childe’s original task may have been complete, but perhaps Zhongli’s attitude indicated his willingness to use Childe for one, final purpose.
During the time when they had still been frequently dining together, Childe and Zhongli had been sitting outside at Third-Round Knockout, the two of them the sole patrons remaining after most of them had retreated inside, fleeing from the nip that had settled in the evening air. Iron Tongue Tian’s words drifted out of an open window, but Childe’s focus was set on the soft hushing of the waves from the docks and his fruitless attempts to pick up a single piece of meat with his chopsticks. Zhongli was uncharacteristically quiet, his hands steepled over his meal and his eyes fixed on something across the square.
Childe craned his neck to see what it was that had Zhongli so transfixed.
A couple walked hand-in-hand as they made their way between the stalls. They stopped at a food stand and the man purchased a small, round item, steam rising from the top in wisps. He held it out for the woman to take a bite of before taking a mouthful of his own. Smiles stretched wide on their faces, they stared at each other for a moment before the man leaned forward to place a kiss on her forehead.
“Fascinating, is it not?” Zhongli’s voice pulled Childe’s attention back to him.
“Uh, I guess, but I thought rice buns were pretty easy to make?”
“Ah, you misunderstand me.” Zhongli smiled that small smile he made whenever Childe showed an interest in his musings. “I was referring to the nature of romantic relationships. Some are fleeting, passing like the moonlight that reflects from unstill waters, yet others are bound to stand as eternal as the stone itself. Remarkable as they are, I cannot say that I understand them, or what it is that marks this inconsistency in their permanency.”
“Zhongli, are you saying you’ve never been in a relationship?” asked Childe, placing his chopsticks down and not hiding the surprise in his voice. Unlike Childe, Zhongli was the perfect partner – upstanding, mannered and wise – so the prospect of Zhongli having as little experience as himself was perplexing.
Zhongli pressed a napkin to his mouth, responding deliberately, “I have been rather busy throughout my life; my work has taken much of my time and as such I have had little of it left for these things. In recent times, however, I have found myself… intrigued.” He flashed a glance back toward the couple and leant forward, meeting Childe’s eyes. “That is why I have brought this topic to you, Childe – I assume someone such as yourself has plenty of experience in these things.”
Childe shuffled in his seat, thoughts racing over where Zhongli intended to take such a turn in the conversation. “Well, uh, what makes you say that?”
“For example, you are bright, ambitious and possess a certain streak of generosity. I believed it only a natural consequence of such attributes that you would find a plethora of opportunities for romantic interaction.”
The skin underneath Childe’s collar grew uncomfortably warm at Zhongli’s words, but he smiled and said, “I mean, yeah, of course I do! Loads of experience!”
Like abyss he was going to let Zhongli know he had less experience than a pimpled schoolboy. He didn’t need that embarrassment.
Fortunately Zhongli bought his act and nodded. “In that case, should I ever wish to learn more, I shall direct my questions to you.”
It was obvious, in hindsight, that Zhongli had been referring specifically to human relationships; Childe had no idea how these things worked for adepti and gods, but he assumed that they had to be quite different compared to humans. In anycase, whatever it had been that had intrigued Zhongli on that day, Childe welcomed it – if Zhongli wished to learn more about relationships, perhaps he would be open to Childe offering him that opportunity first-hand, an equal exchange they might call it.
As an additional bonus, Childe couldn’t deny that he’d enjoyed Zhongli’s company while it lasted. Their conversations had been long and when Childe had spoken, Zhongli had listened to him, not as his soldiers did, standing to attention, wary that they might miss an important detail and be punished for it later, but in a way that made Childe feel as though Zhongli wanted to listen to him, leant forward over folded arms, eyes trained on Childe’s.
Even if it had been fake, it was nice to imagine that it might’ve been real.
The more he thought about it, the more appealing the plan became. All he had to do was find a way to make Zhongli agree. So what if they hadn’t spoken since that day? Zhongli didn’t seem the type to hold a grudge and neither was Childe.
His decision made, he strode across Liyue at a pace he hoped wasn’t too suspicious before coming to a stop at the door of the place he remembered to be Zhongli’s home. Not allowing himself the chance to change his mind, he knocked three times, clear and loud. Silence, followed by footsteps, followed by the creak of the door handle.
Zhongli.
There he was, as elegant and dignified as Childe remembered, standing in the doorway looking straight at him.
“Childe?” Zhongli’s eyebrows crinkled as though they weren’t sure if they wanted to appear concerned or surprised. “It’s been a while. What brings you here?”
This had been a bad idea. Childe had forgotten how it felt to be held in the gaze of those golden eyes that seemed to pierce straight through him. Everything he’d planned on saying sounded more and more ridiculous and his tongue stuck to the dry walls of his mouth as he fought with his words. How would he possibly–
“Zhongli, I need you to date me,” Childe blurted out, immediately regretting it, his ears burning red hot.
“Date you? As much as I’m flattered, I hardly believe this is the appropriate manner in which to–”
“No no no! Not like that! I need you to pretend to date me.”
Zhongli stood back, opening the door wider. His face had returned to its usual composed state, but a light chuckle left his mouth. “I’d argue that this is hardly the proper manner in which to greet an old friend, but in any case, I think that you’d better come inside.”