Etched In Stone

In Light of These Wilted Lilies

Childe accidentally finds Guizhong's garden, hidden away in Zhongli's Serenitea Pot.

--

There is a garden in Zhongli's Serenitea Pot against the far north wall, tucked into the corner.

It takes Childe a few visits to find while exploring the large home and its winding hallways. An old and dusty room on the far end opens into a small courtyard where sunlight trickles in through the trees with spattering rays. The garden plot is in decent shape but the plants can use some tending to. When Childe kneels to the ground, the loam is dry as he drags his fingers through it, crumbling underneath his nails, starved for water.

Odd. Zhongli doesn't seem the type to tend to plants for more at home dealing in stone and rocks. But, at the same time, the soil is as much him as any mountain that rises in the distance. Childe doubts that Zhongli would let something go to waste, so it seems strange.

"Glaze Lilies," murmurs Childe, petting a soft petal of a blue flower. It is wilted and parched, lacking life and vibrancy despite the sun that beats down on it. There is something that pricks his brain, lingering in the back of his mind that he can't quite remember. Something about Glaze Lilies.

It isn't important. A mild curiosity that tugs at Childe but he doesn't dwell upon it.

Childe moves to sit on the ledge of the porch that meets the open air. There, he thinks. The quiet is nice. It is serene. Childe so rarely gets moments to himself, too busy with work or Katya fussing over him. Lately, it's Zhongli who is always an arm away, his palm pressed against the small of Childe's back possessively.

There is much to be said about alone time and Childe relishes the peace. He sorts through his thoughts, feelings, and memories of moments; kisses, dances, and dinners that spill into the night until Childe finds himself tucked close to Zhongli amidst silken sheets.

It's new. Childe didn't know that he wanted something like this until it was nearly too late. But he's here, he isn't going anywhere, he's settled down roots in Liyue like these pitiful Glaze Lilies that struggle to survive. And still, there's Zhongli with his easy smile and the way that he says his name: Ajax, warm like sweet honey.

Childe loses track of the time he sits there. Shuffling over the worn wooden floorboards pulls him out of his thoughts. "Oh, I—"

Zhongli is not angry. He is barefoot, leaning against the frame, dressed down in a robe with a platter of teacups and a pot balanced on a hand. He moves serenely and sits beside Childe. Pours out a cup of blistering hot tea before handing it to him. The silence is comfortable. There is no awkwardness, just simple ease as they enjoy the space together.

Eventually, Zhongli does speak. He holds his teacup between two palms and stares at the garden with a wistful, far-off look. Lost in his thoughts. Thinking about the past. "I shared this garden. I've never had a green thumb, as they like to say, but she was convinced that my gentle soul would rub off on the flowers."

She. Suddenly, it falls into place and Childe remembers. "Guizhong," he says softly. Hesitantly. Childe doesn't know if he's crossed a line because while Zhongli shares much with him there are still eons of things from his life that have gone unspoken.

Zhongli has mentioned her in moments of fondness where his face goes soft, and his eyes crinkle as he just remembers. A little jealousy flares in Childe's chest but it's dumb to be worried about a woman who's dead, no matter how much Zhongli still cares for her.

"I should have known you'd find this place." He looks at Childe with mirth shining in his golden eyes. "No matter. I was planning on sharing it with you. Eventually."

"Zhongli, you don't have to—"

"I don't have to what?" Zhongli blinks as though he is genuinely confused. "Share the things I care for deeply with you? Ajax, I—" He pauses, words caught in his throat. He reforms whatever he's about to say. "There are many things I've lived through that you could barely begin to comprehend, and yet, I wish to share them with you. These parts of myself that most have forgotten...I have not, and I wish for you to know them as well."

"What was she like?"

Zhongli doesn't answer immediately. He thinks, choosing his words carefully, rifling through everything that Guizhong ever was. "She would have liked you," is what he eventually says. "She was odd as far as the adepti went. She held a love for mortals that, when I was younger, I did not grasp. I cared for those who lived in Guili Plains but responsibility is not the same as intrigue."

Childe nods as he listens.

"She—" Zhongli pauses, sighing softly. "'Glaze Lilies thrive on the memories of those around them'. That is what she once told me. We planted this garden together to be a symbol but I've neglected it because I've deemed those memories painful."

"Zhongli—"

"I am not good at this," murmurs Zhongli. "Being with a person. With her—well, I figured it out too late. And it was nearly too late with you. I am good with words but not at being selfish. Retirement...it is the first thing that I have ever done for myself."

"And what about Guizhong? Was she selfish?"

Zhongli chuckles softly. "Yes and no. She was, above all, practical. Even in the end, she chose what she would consider being the obvious choice." A moment passes, stretching between them like grass stalks that billow in the breeze. "I see a lot of her in you," admits Zhongli. "Your stubbornness—"

"Hey." Childe is offended by that, pouting.

"—but mostly in how there are two sides of you. To most, you are brash, violent, and wild. To me, however, you are anything but. Guizhong was a thoughtful person. A political genius, able to shape herself to be what people wish her to be. Very few knew her true self."

"So, her garden—"

"Our garden," corrects Zhongli. Not unkindly. A pause as he smooths a thumb over his teacup. "I apologize. I didn't mean for..."

Childe scoots closer, knocking their knees together. "Hey, we're figuring this out, right? Us?" It's still fresh and new, and even if certain words haven't been said, Childe knows they're in love.

"I..." Zhongli trails off, looking at the pitiful garden, touch-starved for love and affection.

"You don't have to forget her, Zhongli. She doesn't deserve that." The expression that flits across Zhongli's face is unreadable, sad, and exhausted, like a slow nightfall that struggles to darken. Childe reaches out to cradle his cheek. "Hey."

Zhongli looks at him, those beloved golden eyes looking old and ancient. Childe can't imagine the things he's seen in his lifetime. He leans over and kisses him, short and sweet, dragging a soft sound from Zhongli's throat.

Then, Childe kisses his forehead, fingers curling around the back of Zhongli's head, petting his hair. "Did she like tea?"

"She loved tea."

"Would she be angry that you've let her flowers wilt?"

A pause. A snort, warm breath huffing from Zhongli's mouth. "Likely."

"Then let's fix it. We'll take care of her garden together. Would you like that?"

Zhongli is so rarely at a loss for words, his expression caught somewhere between awe and crying. He hesitates because he's overwhelmed, but nothing can compare to the warmth that floods Childe's chest when Zhongli pulls him close for a bone-crushing hug.

He doesn't say yes. Instead, Zhongli whispers, "Thank you."