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Liyue always looked like it was bathed in the sickly yellow of greed and cowardice. The city looked laughingly miniscule from afar. It was almost embarrassing to think that he once found this place any level of awe-striking.
“We’ll arrive at Liyue Harbour within the hour, Lord Harbinger.”
Pantalone waves the messenger away. What miserable news to receive. He begins flipping through - again - the ledgers for the Northland Bank. His appointed manager had assured him again and again that all the records were in order, but there was no way - no fucking way - that their finances were properly accounted for, unless Tartaglia was even worse at his job that Pantalone could ever imagine or the Northland Bank was bleeding from it’s coffers.
Seriously. Pantalone had assigned that stupid child the simplest possible job he could scrounge up at a short notice, perfect for the brat’s skillset. Debt Collecting. He just needed to intimidate people and give money to Ekaterina. How hard could it be? Why did their financial records look like Tartgalia was not only not collecting debts, but also giving money away? His job was already as much of a no-brainer as it could have gotten. How in the world could he possibly fuck it up even more.
He spends the remainder of the hour making notes in the margins of deficits he wishes to pursue, and when his foot touches the mildew soaked rickety planks of the docks, he heads to the Northland Bank immediately. Best to solve this issue at once so he can leave Liyue as soon as possible.
“That stupid boy,” Pantalone seethed. “I swear - you sure he was collecting all the due debts? None missed at all?”
“No, sir,” Ekaterina reports. “Master Childe was diligent in the work we assigned to him.”
“Then I don’t understand,” Pantalone rubs his temples. “Where has all the money gone? Surely he wasn’t just giving it away.”
Ekaterina doesn’t offer any acknowledgement. She remains suspiciously silent. Pantalone lifts his head to look at her.
“Tsarista’s sake. Tell me he wasn’t giving out red packets to Liyuen kids like handouts because he got homesick and missed his damn siblings or something.”
“He wasn’t doing that exactly, sir.”
“Then, pray tell, what was he doing?”
“Master Childe has, during the Lantern Rite occasion, indulged in the tradition of handing out red packets to children because he had heard it was an auspicious activity-”
“That idiot, that tradition is for married couples to give to children-”
“-but most of the time, the mora he was giving out was directed to specifically one recipient.”
Pantalone opens his mouth. Closes it. Stares at Ekaterina. Who stares back.
“Why?”
Ekaterina pauses. “I can’t say, sir.”
“Say it.”
Ekaterina pauses again, and seems to be deliberating over something. That’s alright, Pantalone is patient. He waits.
Finally she takes a deep breath. “It might be a case of a romantic pursuit, sir.”
“Fuck,” Pantalone says. So, Tartaglia really is an idiot, who may or may not have gotten roped in the simplest scam of all time - a romance scam. He really was such a blundering-
“This isn’t good for my blood pressure,” he mutters. Whatever. Nevermind Tartaglia. Thinking about him was giving him a headache. It’s alright - Pantalone was here, he can fix this. It’s time to do Tartaglia’s job for him properly and go debt collecting. “So, who is the individual who has… unfortunately captured that stupid boy’s affections?”
Mister Zhongli.
Of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlour.
It sounds almost cute, if Pantalone was a passive observer with no financial stakes in the situation. It’s on theme, too - just like their bloodthirsty youngest to fall head over heels with someone in the cleanup business. He thinks Pulcinella would get a kick out of it, if he heard. Pantalone makes a note to write to him.
Ekaterina’s report has been brief: upon hearing that Zhongli was one of the most highly sought after consultants in the area, the Fatui had hired him for a session to help educate Tartaglia on Liyue’s then-Archon. Whether Zhongli had been successful is hard to say, given that Pantalone hears it had been ultimately La Signora who retrieved the gnosis.
Pantalone wasn't sure if he should blame the youngest’s general incompetence or Zhongli's poor consulting skills for failure of leading Tartaglia in the right direction… but this Zhongli character turned out to be an efficient scam artist, so surely he must be somewhat intelligent. Perhaps he had pegged Tartaglia as a suspicious character and was leading him in circles to protect this backwater nation.
Hah! Pantalone wouldn't fall for the same thing. He had grown up in this shitty place, after all, so he can't be lied to like Tartaglia.
He spends the rest of the day double checking the balances - nothing out of the ordinary, except for the big fine that the Northland Bank had to pay the Qixing post-Osial, but that was to be expected, as well as Tartaglia’s miscellaneous expenses.
His agents promptly deliver Zhongli’s expected schedule for the next day - a solitary early breakfast in Chihu Rock before he reports to his work at Wangsheng Funeral Parlour, commonly spotted out for lunch and on occasion dinner with his colleagues, but his nighttime activities differ day by day. Unfortunately, Wangsheng Funeral Parlour is located just next to the Yanshang Tea House where that bitch of a Qixing Intelligence Agent currently operates, so he has to ensure that he steers clear of the location. He has no idea if Yelan is even currently in the nation, but regardless he has no desire to run into her.
Which stands that the most logical time to ambush him would be in the morning before the man’s even eaten, to catch him off guard and unprepared for the day.
Morning comes with the miserable sounds of the pre-dawn harbor market and the racket of merchants hawking their wares. Pantalone has forgotten how terrible it is to have to sleep just a few walls above a bustling port. The night shift guard is still on duty when Pantalone leaves the bank - a testament to Liyuen’s ungodly hours of productivity.
“Good sleep, Lord Harbinger?” Nadia greets him.
“Terrible,” Pantalone sighs. “You’ve met that Zhongli before, right?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Tell me again, what he looks like.” Pantalone has received only scant, useless descriptions. He’s sure he’ll be able to recognize the man - he has a fucking vision, he hears. No doubt one of those flamboyant types, then. He already knows he’ll get a migraine the moment he spots the man from a mile away.
“He’s a rather tall man, and he has long dark hair that he ties into a ponytail. He often wears a brown suit, but I’m uncertain if that’s the Wangsheng Funeral Parlour uniform or just his preferred way of dress. He has a geo vision on the back of his jacket.”
“Right,” Pantalone says. “Good day, Nadia.” He heads down to the harbor, scowling back at merchants who shoot him judgemental stares. Ekaterina had told him the Fatui have been less than welcome as of late, but Pantalone doesn’t particularly care about their popularity as long as the Bank still profits.
Tall, dark, geo vision. Pantalone scans the Harbor, foot tapping against the cobblestone.
Ah - there. He catches up to the man. “You there. Geo vision.”
Zhongli turns. “Yes? May I help you?”
“Zhongli of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlour,” Pantalone says.
Zhongli has a mild, infuriating smile on his face, acting like he’s been anticipating Pantalone’s presence like it is a scheduled appointment as opposed to a surprise intervention. “That is me. And you are?”
Pantalone clears his throat. “You may call me Pantalone. I’m in charge of the Northland Bank-”
“Ah, so they’ve finally replaced Childe,” Zhongli says, and nods to himself. “I hear that rascal has finally departed from Liyue.”
The rest of Pantalone’s carefully planned introduction spiel dies on his tongue. “That… that rascal?”
“Ah, apologies, I was thinking aloud,” Zhongli says. “Childe is… a very nice, pleasant boy. I bear him no particular ill will.”
A nice, pleasant boy. Pantalone cannot stop the snicker that escapes him. Tartaglia was head over heels for this man who talked about him like he was his uncle.
“Yes, a very nice, pleasant boy, indeed,” Pantalone coughs. “I did not come here to talk about Tartaglia.”
“I see. Pardon me for interrupting. What did you mean to discuss?”
Pantalone folds his arms. “Your outstanding debts to the Northland Bank, of course.” He meets Zhongli in the eye, daring him to refute it.
Zhongli looks briefly startled, but his expression quickly smooths over. “Ah. I suppose I owe Childe quite a sum of money, before he’d left.”
So the man admits it. That makes things easier. “Your total is a rather… formidable sum,” Pantalone says, and rattles of a string of numbers that will make any lesser man cry.
“I see,” Zhongli says, infuriatingly unflappable. As expected from an expert con artist. “I’m afraid I do not have that much mora on me at the moment.”
Again, as expected. It’s a particularly hefty bill. “Not to worry, we will work out a payment plan.”
“Of course,” Zhongli says, rubbing his chin. “I suppose that is warranted. Rest assured that if we were to draw a fair and reasonable contract, I will uphold it to the best of my ability.”
Pantalone’s good mood at the thus-far swift discussion quickly sours. “You Liyuens and your damn contracts.”
Zhongli stares at him for a beat, a peculiar look on his face. Then he says, “are you not Liyuen, yourself?”
Pantalone scowls. He hates the reminder. “I moved out of Liyue years ago. I consider myself to be more Snezhnayan than anything, now.”
Zhongli frowns at him. As if he has any right to show disapproval. “May I ask why?”
The Liyuen people were always too deep-rooted in misplayed loyalty and archaic tradition. Devotion to their figurehead of a god. Implying that a foreign nation would present better opportunities for growth was scandalous. After this nation has raised you and taught you. Zhongli seemed just like the shallow sort of man - one of those pompous traditionalists - that would agree. The words are sharp on Pantalone’s tongue. “Liyue had nothing to offer me. Snezhnaya seemed more promising.”
Then, oddly, Zhongli clasps his hands together. “How wonderful.”
Wonderful. Pantalone narrows his eyes. Searching for a lie. “Is that so?”
“I cannot comment on Snezhnaya’s current state of affairs,” Zhongli says. “But she is a massive nation with a formidable economy. If you were to choose anywhere outside of Liyue, I would agree that Snezhnaya is a stellar choice.”
Anywhere outside of Liyue. So - still unnecessarily elevating the homeland. Arrogance knows no bounds. Pantalone’s lip curls. “I don’t see what’s so good about this god damnned place.”
Zhongli looks at him. He doesn’t look as offended as he'd imagined any other stuffy historian would be. Pantalone almost wishes he was - it’d make cutting the conversation much easier. “There is a lot to admire about Liyue.”
“Like what?” Pantalone says, more derisive than anything. He makes a private bet to himself. There were only so many attractions he imagines Zhongli would list.
The Jade Chamber. Everyone talks about the eagle eye of the government hovering their oppressive shadow over the people. Nothing impressive about that. As if the ordinary citizen could hope to even step foot on the thing in their entire life.
The Pearl Gallery. All the businessmen cite that insipid place as if you couldn’t find brothels down every block in the slums.
Zhongli seemed like the sort of person who would want to catch him off guard by diverting from riches to nature. The view from Wangshu Inn is incredible. An appeal for foreigners, perhaps. For a native Liyuen, what is the point of looking down on sopping wet marshlands and hilichurl camps?
Zhongli says, “I don’t hope to change your mind, but perhaps you could indulge me in some of the things I enjoy about Liyue.”
What a waste of time. Being in this nation was just a waste of time. But he needs Zhongli's money. And he knows that the easiest way to get people to go along with your plans is to indulge them in their silly little whims to build rapport. That's just good business sense and worth it for profiting in the long run. Pantalone scowls. “Fine.”
“In that case,” Zhongli says, “have you had breakfast, yet?”
“Wanmin restaurant.” Pantalone scowls at the little shop tucked in a street in Chihu Rock - the poorer side of LIyue Harbour, away from the more prestigious brand names in Feiyun Slope.
Zhongli smiles at him. “I have brought Tartaglia here on several occasions.”
Pantalone sighs. He knows - he’s seen the many, many, many invoices attached to the string of Tartaglia’s reckless expenses. “If this isn’t the best fucking food I’ve had in the world, then I’m going to kick Tartaglia’s ass and demand to know what the fuck he was thinking.”
If anything, Zhongli seems amused instead of appalled – but Pantalone shouldn’t be surprised. He has oh, that rascal? in his head on repeat. “I’m sure you won’t be disappointed. Xiangling is a brilliant chef.”
Their server for the breakfast crowd is a teenage girl. “Hello, Mr Zhongli, it’s good to see you again! Oh, you have a guest! Welcome!”
“Good morning, Xiangling.” So this was the chef? Some kid? Zhongli turns to him. “What would you like to eat?”
“I thought you wanted to show me what you liked,” Pantalone drawls, bored. “You may choose. I am not picky.”
“An adventurous eater,” Zhongli nods. “Very well. May we have an order of black perch stew and crystal shrimp?”
Xiangling giggles. “Coming right up!” She flounces off to the counter.
“Wanmin is run by Xiangling and her father, Mao,” Zhongli tells him. “They’re famous for their unique twist on dishes and Xiangling’s tendency to utilize more… eclectic ingredients. For example, her famous twist on black perch stew involves slime condensate-”
Pantalone spits out a bit of tea. “Isn’t that what you ordered?!”
“Yes, indeed.”
“Order something else!”
Zhongli’s brows furrow. “You said you were open to trying it. Besides, I think Xiangling is done cooking.”
As if on cue, the girl floats by. “Here’s the black perch stew, fresh from the oven! And your crystal shrimp is right… Guoba, over here!”
“What the hell is that?!”
Zhongli nods to the… little bear? Creature? toddling up with a plate balanced on his head. “Not to worry, that is just Guoba.”
“What the fuck is a Guoba?”
“It’s okay, he’s friendly!” Xiangling chirps. “He’s my pet, but don’t worry, the kitchen is sanitary and he’s very obedient.”
Pantalone regards the strange creature with suspicion. Fortunately, it does nothing more than to set the plate onto the table and then trill at him, before spinning around to totter elsewhere. How odd. Pantalone knows that Inazuma is full of such oddities due to a variety of yokai that inhabit its lands, but he remembers that the Liyue Adepti are solitary inhabitants of the mountains… and surely much more powerful than that weird bear who just bumped into a table leg.
“Girl,” Pantalone says, before Xiangling can walk away. “This stew. Does it have slime condensate?”
“Oh, hehe, looks like Zhongli told you about it! Yep, but don’t worry, it’s safe to eat and very delicious!”
“...Right,” Pantalone says. “Prove to me that this is not a poor attempt at poisoning me.”
“Certainly,” Zhongli says, and eats a weird, gloopy, disgusting-looking bite of the fish.
He does not die. Xiangling is looking at him expectantly. A table away, a man is calling out an order. “One black perch stew, please!”
Pantalone scowls. “Fine.” He grabs his chopsticks.
…Fuck. It’s kind of good.
Alright, fine. Liyue cuisine is good. Pantalone can admit it, even to himself. He’s sure that nostalgia is playing a factor in aiding his skewed perceptions of the food, but logically recognizing the root of the enjoyment doesn’t make the emotions any less genuine. So fine, whatever - he misses Liyuen food. You can’t get the authentic thing anywhere else. That doesn’t mean that the rest of the nation isn’t shit, though.
“You look like you’re enjoying the meal,” Zhongli says, and Pantalone does not choke on his rice, thank you very much.
“I was simply distracted, that’s all,” Pantalone coughs. “Snezhnayan food is still better.” it’s a poor lie, even to his own ears, but he gets the delight of seeing Zhongli frown for just a tiny bit before his expression defaults back to his neutral smile. It reminds him disconcertingly of Columbina.
“Ah,” Zhongli says, “you have just given me an idea for our next stop in appreciating what Liyue has to offer. Since this entire excursion is my suggestion, allow it to be my treat.” He flags down Xiangling, who waves at them and comes over, and Zhongli reaches into his pocket to pull out-
“Ah, I seem to have forgotten to bring my wallet.”
“You…” Pantalone gapes at him. “Forgot your wallet.” In this economy?
Xiangling laughs as the words leave his mouth. “Oh, again?”
Pantalone shoots her an incredulous look. “Is this a common occurrence?”
“Unfortunately,” Zhongli sighs, rubbing the back of his head. “I am… quite forgetful.”
“That’s the third time this week, Mr Zhongli,” Xiangling scolds - third time in a week, how - “We’ll put it on your tab again, okay?”
“What the - I’ll just pay!” Pantalone snaps. It’s not even an expensive meal. Who has a tab at a goddamn family restaurant like Wanmin? This is one of his pet peeves - such ridiculous business decisions! Customers like Zhongli would run them dry! Pantalone’s heart traitorously extends sympathy to humble business owners scammed by such manipulators with nothing but a pretty face. A tab, and Xiangling’s nonchalant reaction, implies that this isn’t the first time, either. Surely Zhongli isn’t that charismatic for her to let this behavior slide so often.
Zhongli - what a shrewd man. Tartaglia, that fool, was an easy target. But Xiangling was a teenager that Pantalone himself might think twice about cheating, if the meal was worth more than peanuts to even calculate a significant profit. But Zhongli, exploiting a young girl in her own family business? Pantalone observes him consideringly. Perhaps there was more to this man than meets the eye.
"Don't you have work to do?" Pantalone says, as Zhongli hums and haws and muses on the way to their next destination in his attempt to convince Pantalone that Liyue is not a shithole.
“Ah, typically, yes,” Zhongli says. “But you have caught me on one of my days off. Master Hu has decided to grant me a leave of absence because she said she was, and I quote, sick of seeing my face.”
Zhongli, Pantalone decides, sounds like a terrible employee.
“So where are we going?” Pantalone asks.
Zhongli says, “I trust that, as a native Liyuen, you might be familiar with Qingqe village.”
What? There? “There’s nothing to see in Qingqe,” Pantalone mutters. “It’s a slow, dying village left with stubborn elderly who refuse to leave.”
“It is true that most youngsters these days prefer to move to Liyue Harbour to look for work opportunities,” Zhongli says. “But Qingqe village is still picturesque and full of hidden gems.”
Pantalone remains unconvinced. He’s heard of Qingqe back when he was still in Liyue - a small farming village near the ruins of Mondstadt’s old city where nothing ever happens, and everyone who’s born there just leaves. He doesn’t remember if Qingqe had anything going for them, which means that it must be unmemorable as fuck.
Zhongli says, “Perhaps you might enjoy it. It is a very relaxing place that is perfect for stepping away from the stressors of the city.”
Pantalone rolls his eyes. What a frankly, dreadfully boring thing to say.
To make matters worse, the walk to Qingqe is stupidly long as well. Pantalone finds that Zhongli’s title of Liyue’s most esteemed consultant is well-earned. Never one to pass up any opportunity for information, Pantalone listens intently to what Zhongli has to say.
…He quickly finds out that most of what Zhongli has to say has little to do with Liyue’s ever fluctuating economy. The man seems to have a piece of quaint trivia for just about anything that they pass by, which is a trait that Pantalone finds reminds him disturbingly of the more endearing side of Il Dottore (that man never shuts up if he has a chance to upstage his colleagues about his intelligence), and yet Zhongli sounds more earnest and less smug about it. Pantalone has yet to decide if he considers this quirk of Zhongli’s charming or irritating.
Twenty three facts about the cultivation of Jueyun Chilis later, they’re up the path that winds around the bamboo forest that leads up to Qingqe village. This place is infested with boars.
“Just a bit further before we should be able to see the village,” Zhongli says. Then, “did you know, while bamboo shoots are commonly associated to be a plant native to Liyue, they can also be found in Inazuma? Several signature Inazuman dishes like Tonkotsu Ramen contain bamboo shoots.”
Pantalone just sighs. “Ah, Zhongli, tell me more.”
“Certainly,” Zhongli says. “Bamboo-”
The wooden houses and terraced fields of Qingqe come into view. There’s a large pavilion by the village entrance which Zhongli immediately heads towards, and Pantalone can see him come up to an elderly woman busying herself with the flowerpots.
“Hello, Ruoxin,” Zhongli greets. To Pantalone he says, “This is Ruoxin, the community leader of Qingqe village.”
“ Aiya , how many times have I told you, call me Granny.” Ruoxin pats Zhongli’s hand. “You, youngster.”
Pantalone bristles. “Me?”
“What’s your name?”
Pantalone almost says his Liyuen name - a force of habit, to defer to elders - but bites down on his tongue. “Pantalone,” he gets out.
“Ah,” Ruoxin says. “That is… that’s…”
Zhongli looks at him. Pantalone bites down on the inside of his cheek. “I’m from Snezhnaya, Ruoxin.”
“Granny,” she tuts at him. It’s almost nostalgic, being chided at by elders. Pantalone’s ranked higher than she would ever progress in any career, but even he can’t bear to yell at an old woman.
Pantalone swallows. “Granny.”
“Good boy.” She pats his hand. Pantalone’s face burns. “Any friend of Zhongli’s is a friend of ours.” She turns back to her pots of flowers, and Zhongli steps away to head further into the village.
Pantalone follows him. “Why are we here?”
Instead of answering, Zhongli leads him past a bridge. “Ah, A-Bai, you’re here.”
“Zhongli! And… friend!” A lady looks up from where she’s peeling garlic at a worktable. Another food stall? Surely Zhongli doesn’t mean for them to eat again.
Zhongli turns to him. “Ms Bai offers a small but robust menu that will be a delight to your tastebuds.”
Pantalone snaps, “we just ate!”
“A few hours ago, back at Liyue Harbour, yes,” Zhongli says. He inclines his head. “Your reception towards the food back at Wanmin inspired me to consider more food options signature to Liyue. Did the walk not stir up your appetite?”
“Well, I-” Pantalone scowls, flushing. He has to acquiesce that of all possible tour options, trying food would be the least insufferable. “Whatever. Order something already.”
Bai giggles at the both of them. Pantalone doesn’t see what’s so funny.
“One Noodles with mountain delicacies, and one speciality Qingqe stir fry.” Bai sets the dishes down, and smacks her hands on her apron. “That’d be 12,000 mora.”
Zhongli opens his mouth. Closes it. Looks at Pantalone.
Right. They’ve come here directly from Wanmin, which means Zhongli still doesn’t have his wallet. Pantalone sighs and reaches for his.
Their after-lunch activity brings them to Zhongli's next pit stop. Thankfully, it's not a long walk down to the paddy fields below Qingqe, although it is a disgusting one.
“I’m not dressed for this!” Pantalone says. He glares down at the hem of his pants. They’re soaked in mud and water from the fields.
“My apologies,” Zhongli says. When Pantalone looks up, he has a hand extended, like he thinks Pantalone needs help. How presumptuous. Pantalone steps past it, huffing.
Zhongli drops his hand.
“So?” He says. “Did you mean to bring us in the middle of a rice field for something?”
Once again, instead of giving him a straight answer, Zhongli says, “Do you know the legend behind the glaze lily?”
It’s one of the basic few stories that every Liyuen child learns the moment they learn to read. “Who doesn’t?”
"Thousands of years ago, before the advent of the Archon War, Glaze Lilies were a symbol of a simpler, more peaceful time. Legend has it that the flower will open at the sound of pure, beautiful music, and that there was once one who loved this flower more than any other. Now, however, the sight of a Glaze Lily in full bloom out in the wild is a rare one indeed." Zhongli says. With that, to Pantalone's surprise, he leans down and plucks one up from the middle of the field.
"And just after talking about how rare they are, you go and pick one up."
Zhongli chuckles. "Not to worry, joint efforts by the Adepti and the Qixing in cultivating Glaze Lilies have brought it back from the brink of extinction. While they are still not as commonplace as the days of old, they are no longer endangered. In fact, you can find many of them growing in specially maintained plots in Yujing Terrace."
"I see," Pantalone says. There might be profit to be made in the trade of semi-rare plants, but if the Qixing have dipped their hands in the market, it might not be worth the hassle to go toe to toe with the Tianquan.
"Furthermore," Zhongli says, "there is little joy in hoarding resources you cannot indulge in, be it mora, time, or flowers. This is a lesson I am still trying to learn. Many things are better shared, wouldn't you agree?" And with that, he hands the flower to Pantalone.
"..." Pantalone regards it quietly - the crisp blue petals, the perky filaments of the flower. He says, "I doubt these are your glaze lilies to decide to give, especially since you've just picked them off the ground on someone's land."
"Ah?" Zhongli says. "Yes, I suppose you're right." He doesn't seem too contrite about it, however.
The image of Zhongli, Pantalone decides, takes a clearer shape in his head. His seemingly docile, learned exterior is the perfect cover to hide the arrogant, selfish man that he truly is. One who claims ownership of Liyue and expects for Pantalone - who, for all intents and purposes, is a stranger whom he'd just met - to open his wallet for him. He has the sort of scholarly arrogance to demand someone else's time for a subject they share no interest in. Pantalone would be impressed, if he were not the victim of Zhongli's ministrations!
Once again, Zhongli has a striking resemblance to Il Dottore. Pantalone is still not quite sure how their youngest got to become so enamored with the man, given Tartaglia's tendency to run away from the second Harbinger. Perhaps it was a purely physical sort of attraction? Pantalone has a pair of working eyes that tells him that Zhongli is, indeed, quite a handsome man. He has a leaner build than Capitano, but they both have long dark hair, perhaps that is what Tartaglia likes?
Pantalone himself has long, dark hair. Should he be offended that Tartaglia doesn't have some misplaced crush on him?
"You seem to be deep in thought," Zhongli prompts him, when Pantalone must have stayed silent for a bit too long.
"Tartaglia," Pantalone says. "Tell me about your experiences with him."
"Ah," Zhongli says. "He was… a unique character, I must say. He had only been in Liyue for a short while, but he took to the lifestyle quite quickly. Although the Fatui were given a tight leash by the Qixing, he managed to cause a splendid bout of chaos in his tenure. I was very impressed by his work."
Zhongli was such an enigma. "His work…"
"Ah, would that be inauspicious to say?" Zhongli says. "Given my profession."
His profession… a funeral parlor. Pantalone snorts. Tartaglia must have been good for business. "Perhaps continued partnership between the Northland Bank and the Wangsheng Funeral Parlour can be arranged."
"I don't think the Qixing will be very happy with that sort of arrangement," Zhongli says.
"By the way," Pantalone says. "What the fuck am I supposed to do with a flower?"
"You can preserve it as a keepsake for your time in Liyue," Zhongli says. "Even if you decide that you have not enjoyed your stay, the beauty of flora is a universal language, no? The Glaze Lily is one of the more expensive ornamental flowers that can be found in Liyue Harbour. Most tourists spend thousands of mora on them, not knowing that the residents of Qingqe grow them freely. I thought you might appreciate them."
"Your persuasiveness is wasted on small fry," Pantalone says, more in regards to himself than anything else. Zhongli had managed to extort millions from Tartaglia, and here Pantalone was as the head of the Northland Bank, and Zhongli had gotten out of him two cheap meals and persuaded him to keep a useless flower.
“I’m just looking to partake in the simple joys of life,” Zhongli says pleasantly. “Shall we move onto the next destination?”
Zhongli leads them out of Qingqe village back in the direction of Liyue Harbour… before he takes a left path and veers in the direction of Mondstadt. They don’t head down the path towards Stone’s Gate, however, which eliminates that as a possible destination. Instead, Zhongli’s sights seem to be directed more southwards.
“And how much farther, exactly, are we going to walk?”
Pantalone is not complaining. He isn’t. But he doesn’t understand how Zhongli - a regular civilian who can do nothing other than recite history books and bait stupid people into romance scams and goes everywhere in Liyue’s shitty summer in his stupid suit and jacket and dress shoes - is walking with a smoother gait than the ninth of the Fatui Harbingers-
“We can take a break,” Zhongli says.
“I don’t need a break!” Pantalone snaps. “I just want to know how much farther we’re going.”
“Just a bit ahead,” Zhongli says, and he falls into step with Pantalone, his heels clicking against the dirt. “You can remove your cloak, if you’re sweating.”
“I’m used to Snezhnaya’s weather,” Pantalone grits. “The humidity in Liyue is disgusting.”
“I should have known,” Zhongli says, “Tartaglia had the same problem.”
“Don’t compare me to him,” Pantalone grumbles under his breath.
“Apologises,” Zhongli says smoothly. “Did you two work together?”
“Far too many times, in my opinion,” Pantalone says flatly. “We thought that sending Tartaglia to Liyue would get him out of our hair, but all he did is to come here and spend our - my - money!”
Ah,” Zhongli chuckles. “He was quite an entertaining fellow, wasn’t he?”
“Don’t think I’ve forgotten about you,” Pantalone huffs, continuing to trudge along the path - why were they going uphill? Dear Tsaritsa. “Once we return to Liyue, we’re drawing up a damn contract for your payment plan.” That is, if Zhongli can even pay in the first place.
“Of course,” Zhongli agrees, and Pantalone swears he’s just being spiteful, because he gestures to the peak of one of the taller hills and says, “that’s where we’re headed.”
Great.
They’ve reached the stupid top of the shitty hill and his legs were aching, and instead of what he imagined might have been at the very least a nice view as a last bid to convince him that Liyue had beauty…
Zhongli shows him a bird’s eye view of a bunch of run-down shacks and abandoned mine carts, festered with hilichurls lumbering about.
“First Qingqe, now this… ghost town. You’re just bringing me to increasingly dilapidated locations. Is there a point to all of this? You seem to have a lecture for every nugget of information you wish to inspire upon me. I had already hypothesize that you had planned to show me the flora and fauna of Liyue to get me to appreciate its nature. I have to commend you on the unorthodox locations, but I’m still unimpressed.”
“I see,” Zhongli says mildly, and for the first time in the whole day Pantalone is delighted to see that mild, infuriating smile drop off his face. “What would impress you, then?”
“Nothing,” Pantalone says. “Absolutely nothing at all in Liyue.
Zhongli is… silent, for a bit too long. Pantalone looks at him. “Are you… actually upset?”
“I am not,” Zhongli says, and he obviously is, the liar, and Pantalone opens his mouth to call him out on it, but Zhongli continues. “I am simply reflecting on your words. While I am aware that not all children of Liyue can see the nation in the same light that I do, it is always a learning opportunity when I encounter different perspectives.. Did you know, I met a critic of Rex Lapis the other day? She brought me on a very enlightening journey on what it meant to be a citizen of Liyue. Perhaps I had my own selfish purposes for inviting you out today as well, for I was hoping that I’d learn to see Liyue from your eyes.”
What a… stupid reason. “You said you wanted to show me what you loved about Liyue. And yet here you sare, saying you wanted to learn what I hated about it.”
Zhongli’s lips quirk up at the corners. “It sounds humorous when you make that comparison.”
“...Well?”
“Hm?”
“Have you learnt anything?”
Zhongli looks at him. “I’m still reflecting on it.” His gaze is piercing. Pantalone has to look away, and he chooses to gaze over the shitty, deserted village, with crumbling buildings and abandoned carts.
Silence stretches between them.
…It’s a little weird when Zhongli’s not filling the space with his inane chatter.
“Tell me about it,” Pantalone says. “That critic you met.” One of the reason’s he’s indulged Zhongli this long is because he hears - from his agent’s background check - that Zhongli himself has once criticized Rex Lapis in the past, but this useless trip has proven him to be nothing but a sentimental patriot, if not someone who knows slightly more off-the-road tourist locations. At the very least, a story about someone who’s not a blind Rex Lapis apologist would be less useless.
“Her name was Wanyan,” Zhongli says. “She was a devout follower Havira, the God of Salt, who was killed in the Archon War way back when. She was convinced that time has eroded the truth, and it had been in fact Rex Lapis himself that killed Havira.”
That was a story he’s never heard before. The potential crimes of Rex Lapis greatly intrigued him. “Did he?” Pantalone asks. “Kill Havira.”
“He did not,” Zhongli says. Drats. “We went to a domain that was the remains of an underground civilization, then constructed by Havira in the Archon War to protect her people. There, we saw the columns of salt left behind by Havira’s dying power, and Wanyan learned the truth. Havira was killed by one of her own people, and the onslaught of her dying breath turned the fleeing humans into statues of salt, forever preserved in time.”
…Chilling. Pantalone swallows. “I thought that’d be one of the places you’ll bring me to.”
“I considered it, but I have to say it’s not as interesting from the outside,” Zhongli says. “Since the entire domain has crumbled into itself and caved in due to the salt.”
“How disappointing.”
“Indeed. I would have liked to preserve it as a historical monument, if I could.”
Pantalone scoffs. “Especially since it proved Rex Lapis’s innocence.”
“Rex Lapis is far from an innocent god,” Zhongli says. “History is always written in favor of the victor. Even Rex Lapis himself is not omniscient, and words from his own mouth risk being muddied by erosion.”
“Pft,” Pantalone says. “At least you can still admit that Rex Lapis isn’t all-knowing.”
“I would never claim otherwise,” Zhongli says.
Pantalone regards him for a moment.
Zhongli says, “conversing with you is rather refreshing.”
“What, because I too am a critic of Rex Lapis?”
“Among other things,” Zhongli nods. “Even Wanyan, for all that she claimed to be prejudiced against Rex Lapis, still loved the nation of Liyue. However, you claim to hate everything about it.” He looks sad again, and Pantalone wants to savor that expression. He’s proven this stubborn man right, that this nation is shitty and there’s nothing redeemable about it.
Pantalone opens his mouth.
Zhongli gazes down below to the ruins of the village.
Why did he pick this location, anyways? Pantalone had almost been prepared to buy them another meal.
“Well.” Pantalone says. “You haven’t given me your lecture for this place. So, shoot.”
“To be perfectly honest,” Zhongli says. “I just figured you’d like the cool air that emanates from Dragonspine since you’ve done nothing but complain about the heat the entire time.”
Pantalone - despite himself - laughs. “That - that doesn’t count. Dragonspine is in Mondstadt.”
Zhongli says, sounding almost petulant, “it’s on the border of both nations.”
“It doesn’t fucking count,” Pantalone says. “It’s more colloquially considered a part of Mondstadt. I - you know what? I changed my mind. I like this place.”
Zhongli says, eyes brightening, “really?”
Pantalone smirks. “Yes. The best place in Liyue’s winning quality is its proximity to Mondstadt.”
Zhongli’s expression flattens into disdain.
Pantalone snickers.
Zhongli swivels on his heel. “We should find somewhere else.”
“Hey! Stop - stop! We just got here!”
“You seemed eager to leave.”
“I told you, I just changed my mind!” Did Pantalone figure out Zhongli’s weakness? The very thing that turned this seemingly-regal, unflappable man into this… indignant, petty character, was insinuating that their neighboring nation had something over Liyue? The arrogance of man!
“I like it here perfectly fine!” Pantalone exclaims, and promptly sits down. His legs ache in relief - that’s unrelated to his decision to make a stop.
Zhongli - oh, archons - has the audacity to roll his eyes. Pantalone is delighted. Zhongli says, “fine.” And folds his arms.
Pantalone looks down at the stupid village. “It’s not really unoccupied,” he muses, even as Zhongli’s gaze snaps towards him. “The hilichurls are living here now.”
Zhongli says, “ah. It seems like you’re right.” And then sits down next to him.
Then, “I suppose the breeze here is rather nice,” Zhongli says. Is he… pouting?
Pantalone snickers. “It is, isn’t it? Maybe I will make my next vacation destination Mondstadt.”
“Yes, perhaps the cold winds there might be better suited for your delicate constitution,” Zhongli says.
Pantalone changes his mind about Zhongli. This snarky version of him is delightful. “My constitution is not delicate. Liyue’s weather is just unnecessarily harsh in the summertime. Mondstadt has such nice, calming weather all year round.”
“I assumed extreme weather conditions would be more to your taste, considering your nation of choice is engulfed in an eternal blizzard,” Zhongli says.
Pantalone snorts. Touche. “Yeah, well,” he says, before this dissolves into one of those childish screaming matches that Tartaglia and Balladeer are always so fond of getting into. He thinks he’ll pay good money to see Zhongli lose his cool like that… except that Zhongli owes him money, not the other way around, so Pantalone will pass on that opportunity.
“What a waste of time today was, don’t you agree?”
“No,” Zhongli says. “I happen to find our time spent together rather productive.”
He’s going to say something stupid. “Even though you failed at your single goal of convincing me that Liyue was worth staying for?”
“Even so,” Zhongli nods. “Revisiting Liyue from a perspective such as yours will never be a waste of time.”
Pantalone is sure he’s just lying through his teeth, trying to be nice. He knows he won’t crack Zhongli’s stone cold facade, but - “even if I spent the whole time complaining about everything.”
“Especially so,” Zhongli says.
“Well, I for one found it a waste,” Pantalone huffs. “I came here to collect your debts, and a whole day later and I still don’t have a single cent from you.”
Zhongli has the audacity to look sheepish. “Ah, apologies, again. But not everything was futile, no? You enjoyed the food.”
“Who doesn’t like food,” Pantalone says, although the dismissal of it sounds weak to his own ears. It’s almost an agreement. It’s definitely not one, though.
Zhongli smiles. “Shall we head back?”
They’re on the way back to Liyue Harbour, their path illuminated by the setting sun, when-
“Halt!”
Pantalone recognizes that voice anywhere. That bitch. Zhongli looks startled when he pulls out his weapon, but Pantalone has no time to warn him when hydro streaks past them.
“Regrator!” From a tall outcropping, Yelan leaps down, bow drawn. Pantalone quickly grabs Zhongli and pulls him along so he doesn’t lose his human shield.
Yelan grits her teeth. “Unhand the civilian immediately!”
“Miss Yelan,” Zhongli starts.
“Shut up and be a good hostage,” Pantalone snaps to him.
Zhongli gives him a bewildered look, then turns back to Yelan. “I’m afraid there has been a misunderstanding. I am most definitely not being threatened.”
“Don’t be fooled by his cunning demeanor,” Yelan snarls. “The gig is up, Regrator. I have already captured and interrogated your men on accounts of potentially endangering our citizens. Mister Zhongli, this is no ordinary man, this is a Fatui Harbinger who approached you to collect your debts for what you have done to his colleague, Tartaglia.”
Pantalone glares at Yelan. “You-”
Zhongli interrupts, “ah, is that right?”
Pantalone swallows. He looks at Zhongli. Zhongli looks at him. “I…” Why can’t he answer Zhongli? The truth is a very simple yes. Yes, he’s here to collect. Yes, he was here to lull Zhongli into a false sense of security and then… what? Take his money? Pantalone had to pay for all their meals today, Zhongli is fucking broke! This was a waste of time, why did Pantalone even-
Even…
Zhongli’s wrist burns in Pantalone’s grip. He drops it. “This is ridiculous.”
“Pardon?” Zhongli says.
Yelan has zipped over and pulled Zhongli to her side now. “Mr Zhongli, you really do have the knack for getting into trouble and making the most peculiar company.”
“Do I?” Zhongli says. “I happen to find Pantalone quite a pleasant companion.”
He’s an idiot. That’s the only explanation. Pantalone has done nothing but to be a miserable guest and insult both his tour guide and this nation. “You’re an idiot,” Pantalone says to him.
"I agree," Yelan says. "Mr Zhongli, I know you are an intelligent man. But letting this suspicious individual lead you to such a secluded part of Liyue by yourself, don't you have any sense of self-preservation?"
"Pardon?" Pantalone says. "It is Zhongli who led me here! Do not throw accusations that you cannot substantiate, Qixing agent!"
Yelan opens her mouth, affronted, but Zhongli says, "Pantalone is telling the truth. This was my idea."
“Your idea…” Yelan says slowly.
“That’s right,” Pantalone huffs. “I was simply there to do my job - as the head of the Northland Bank, to settle Zhongli’s debts with him, here. As a member of the Qixing, surely you must be knowledgeable about Zhongli’s spending habits.” There was no way Yelan would admit to lacking information about something - but given that even small store owners like Xiangling knew about Zhongli’s tendency to leave his mora anywhere but next to him, surely she would, too. “We were taking a walk to discuss simple business.”
“Miss Yelan, this is just a misunderstanding,” Zhongli says. He steps away from Yelan, and closer to Pantalone. Big mistake. He’s leaving himself open again for Pantalone to take him as a hostage.
“I wouldn’t go as far as to say that,” Yelan shakes her head, and pulls Zhongli back to stand next to her again. She’s such an annoying, meddling asshole! “He doesn’t want to kill you, but he still means you harm by extorting you of your money-”
This whole argument is such a waste of time! Pantalone hates this Qixing agent, he really does!
“Zhongli doesn’t even have money!” Pantalone finally snaps. “If he wasn’t employed, I would suspect he doesn’t have a single mora to his name! All he has is the audacity to invite me for a day out and make me pay for all his meals!” It’s a completely lost cause, this Zhongli!
Yelan says, “what?”
Zhongli actually looks contrite. “My most sincere apologies, Pantalone. I had not planned to take advantage of you this way.”
Pantalone splutters. “You did not take advantage-”
“If you are amendable,” Zhongli says, hand above his heart, “once we return to Liyue Harbour, I can retrieve my wallet and treat you to a meal.”
“Well-” It’d be the least he should do. It won’t go a long way - or any way, actually - in paying off his existing debt, considering that their day out just incurred more, but-
“Excuse me!” Yelan yells. “What is the meaning of this!”
“Like I’ve told you again and again,” Pantalone seethes. “We are just-”
“Miss Yelan,” Zhongli says. “If it will reassure you so, we are on the way back to Liyue Harbour, and you can see us there if it is convenient for you.”
Pantalone wants to yell at Zhongli for suggesting Yelan tag along with them.
“Alright,” Yelan says, crossing her arms. “Let’s head back.”
They finally ditch the Qixing bitch after entering Chihu Rock, Yelan casting Pantalone a last, sour glance before stalking away. Pantalone glares back at her, and Zhongli laughs, before guiding him to Wangsheng Funeral Parlour. Pantalone waits outside as Zhongli pokes his head in through the double doors.
“What are you doing here?!” The voice of a girl yells. “I told you not to come back today!”
“Master Hu,” Zhongli says. “I’m simply here to retrieve my wallet.”
“Oh, I told you to stop leaving it here!” Master Hu says. “Oh, wait, since you’re here, you can have your paycheck for the month.”
“It’s not time yet.”
“Aiya, you’re getting it tomorrow anyways, what’s the difference? Now shoo, before one of the Qixing spots you here and accuses me of not giving you any days off!”
Zhongli gets chased out of the parlour, looking befuddled. It’s a very amusing expression on him.
“Thank you for waiting for me,” Zhongli says. “Here you go.” He hands him… a slip of paper.
Pantalone takes it gingerly. No, it’s not a slip of paper, it’s…
“My paycheck for the month,” Zhongli nods. Pantalone gapes at him. “I know it’s not enough to cover the debts incurred from the Northland Bank, but-”
“You’re so - so stupid!” Pantalone hisses. He quickly stuffs the cheque back into Zhongli’s stupid hands before a passing Millelith accuses him of robbery.
“You said it’d be a waste of a day if you did not manage to clear the debt.”
“Well, you’re broke anyways, so it’s not like you can ever pay it off even if I give you an entire century!” Pantalone snaps. “Besides, if you give me all your mora right now, how are you going to eat? Or survive? Scam other lovesick fools into buying all your meals for you?”
“I-”
“And this-” Pantalone snatches the paycheck back because he thought he saw the wrong amount of zeros, but - no, really? “What kind of pay is this?! This is why I hate Liyue, their labor laws are abhorrent, how are you supposed to survive on this little mora-”
“Hey!” Master Hu kicks down the front doors to her establishment, and points an accusing finger at him. “I pay all my employees a fair wage, you know!”
“You obviously don’t!” Pantalone fumes. “This-”
“That’s Zhongli’s appropriate monthly pay after I deduct all his miscellaneous expenses because he keeps sending his personal invoices to Wangsheng!”
“Maybe he does that because you don’t pay him enough in the first place!” Pantalone yells back, and Master Hu - that wilful girl, unfit to be a business owner - shuts the door in his face. Maybe if she paid Zhongli enough in the first place, he wouldn't have incurred such a big debt, leading to such a large loss for the Northland Bank!
“Seriously,” Pantalone tuts, annoyed. “I cannot believe…”
"Ah, Master Hu," Zhongli shakes his head. "She is right, I'm afraid. She has given me permission to bill my expenses to Wangsheng if I find myself unable to pay for the moment, for the criteria that I cover the costs with my paycheck. Not to worry, it is a fair contract."
"Shut up about contracts already!" Pantalone says. “I don’t know how you survived this long, Zhongli.” He rifles in his coat and pulls out a blank check, and a pen, and scribbles down a number. From his own personal account, mind you, because fuck if he's going to mess up the official banking statements again for such frivolous reasons.
“Oh,” Zhongli says. “I really can’t accept this.”
“Just take it,” Pantalone snaps, shoving both shitty pieces of paper towards Zhongli. “I’m the Ninth Harbinger of the Fatui. It’d be embarrassing if I can’t pay for some poor loser’s meal ticket.”
“Then I’ll thank you for this,” Zhongli nods. He’s smiling. He’s ridiculous. Then, to ruin everything, because Zhongli cannot keep his mouth shut for the life of him, “you’re just as generous as Tartaglia.”
“Oh for the love of - I’m nothing like that brat!” Pantalone snaps. “He gave you all that money because he, for some god forsaken reason, had a stupid crush on you! I’m giving you all this because I-”
Pantalone bites down very hard on his tongue.
Zhongli says, “Pantalone?”
“I…”
“Are you okay? Is the heat getting to you again?” Zhongli presses the back of his hand to his forehead. “You look flushed-”
Pantalone smacks his arm away. “Don’t touch me! I have matters to attend to at the Northland Bank! Goodbye!”
“Wait!” Zhongli calls out after him.
Pantalone quickens his pace. The weather here isn't doing him any good. Zhongli is hopeless - there’s no point in collecting the debt anymore, he’ll just write it down as a courtesy expense. He needs to leave Liyue at once. Immediately. He hates this god-damned nation.