𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬 | 𝐱𝐢𝐚𝐨𝐥𝐮𝐦𝐢

X

“Do you not remember anything? At all?”

Xiao shook his head. Laid in bed together, the yaksha and traveller were curled up snugly, within the comfort of the blanket and each other. 

He twirled Lumine’s blonde hair with his fingers, feeling the silky strands soothe his calloused skin. “All I remember was floating in darkness. I couldn’t see anything, but… I could hear you.” He furrowed his brows, trying to think of a way to explain. “It’s like… when you’re underwater, and someone’s talking above. Warbled, unclear. That’s what you sounded like.”

“I see.” Lumine stroked his back gently. “Did you feel anything then? When Alatus went around killing monsters?”

“Not as scathing as I remember. It was more like pricks, like pins and needles. I think it was because the karma wasn’t being pushed towards me; Alatus was using it to his strength.” He sighed. “I’m not too sure about it though.”

Lumine hummed reassuringly. “It’s okay. You don’t have to force yourself to answer.” She nuzzled into his chest, pressing her cheek against it. The warmth was comforting. “What matters is you’re here now.”

Xiao lingered over the strands of gold. “And I’ll stay.”

Lumine smiled, and with the rhythm of Xiao’s heart lulling her, she drifted into sleep.

—

When evening came, Lumine was still sound asleep in the guest bed. Although he was reluctant to leave her embrace, Xiao climbed out of the bed soundlessly and went to the kitchen. 

Zhongli’s Sereniteapot was the same as he remembered, which means the retired archon was really adamant on not renovating this place. Xiao had thought to himself many times on how the small living room—which only consisted of a fireplace, a watercolour drawing of Liyue, some drawers for miscellaneous activities and a rocking chair—really did not befit his status as a retired archon, but rather an old retired geezer. But maybe there’s a deeper meaning to it. 

He knocked twice on the kitchen door and slid it open. Zhongli was busying himself at the stove, and upon hearing the yaksha, he tilted his head slightly.

“How are you feeling, Xiao?” he asked amidst the crackling fire.

“I’m good. Thank you for cleansing my karma again,” he said, bowing to the gentleman.

A solemn sigh escaped Zhongli’s lips. He put out the fire and scooped some soup into two bowls. “We both know that there were better ways to resolve it.”

“This… Alatus,” Xiao began, “is there any way to meet him?”

Zhongli turned fully around. “Why would you want to do that?”

“So I can eradicate him for good.”

“Xiao, you know that’s not possible.” He placed the bowls on the marble dining table, which were filled with fragrant bamboo shoot soup, and took a seat. “He’s a part of you. As long as you’re alive, he exists.”

“Then is there a way to seal him forever?” Xiao asked, sitting across from him.

Zhongli dithered. “Nothing lasts forever. When I gave you your current name, I’ve sealed him away once. Look what happened.”

Xiao’s fingers around the bowl tightened. Anger and disappointment coursed through him, and he growled, “so eventually he will come back one day. And he’ll hurt everyone around him, including Lumine.”