Chapter Text
“That’s a stupid question,” Lumine says, setting her coffee cup down with a clink. “I don’t bother with the impossible.”
Across the table, Yae laughs, pretty and soft with the lilt of concealed deception. “You could look at it that way.” Her stiletto nails—pink like the sakura blossoms she always smells of—catch the light as they make their rounds on the teacup’s edge. “Possibility lies a mere two letters away from impossibility. And yet, two makes all the difference.”
“If you’re missing the two, then it’s not worth anyone’s time.”
Past Yae and the café’s window, a sea of umbrellas trudge through the streets. Dark clouds imprison the sun. The end of its sentence is nowhere in sight, so dictates the weatherman. The rain won’t cease. Left with no other option, the people learn to exist despite it, some better than others.
Lumine’s nails bite into her palm. “It’s not worth thinking about the what ifs.”
“Humor me.” Resting her elbows on the table, she drops her chin into the cradle of her interlaced fingers. “If you could rewrite fate, would you?”
She leans in and punctuates each word with frustration. “That’s a stupid question.”
“Won’t you lend me your foolish answer?”
A slow breath out, her fists uncurl. “It’s obvious what the answer would be. You could guess. Anyone could…”
“Well then…” As the salacious grin of a salesman stretches across her face, Yae’s lashes flap slowly like the wings of a butterfly, beating out an uncertain future. “What would you say if I had a way to remove the obstacles, those two silly letters, keeping you from it?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” The corners of Lumine’s lips turn up, but her eyes look as empty as she feels—or rather has felt for a while now. She hasn’t fared well with the downpour. “I’d give anything to.”
“Okay!” Bouncing in place, Hu Tao tucks her hair into her raincoat’s hood. “You ready?”
Zhongli adjusts his hold on the closed umbrella. “I am prepared to shield us the moment you open the door.”
“Are you sure?”
“I am certain.”
“Are you really really sure? Last time, you—”
“I. Am certain.”
“Mmkay, if you say so.” She all but sings. Touchy much?
Grabbing his hand, she drags him closer to the funeral parlor’s door. “Anything else we gotta try and get today?”
“Additionally,” Zhongli says as she flings the door open, “we shall need to procure—"
“Ack! My eyes! My poor eyes! The sun, it burns!”
She’s rubbing her eyes, trying to ease the stinging and erase the dazzling lights behind her eyelids, when it hits her. Hu Tao blinks once, then twice, even thrice. Huh. Full stop. The…Sun?
Knocking her hood off, she lowers her hand. The city outside of Wangsheng Funeral Parlor is bright. No trace of rain lingers. The clouds roll by at their leisure, as soft and white as the cotton stuffing of the plushie Boo Tao possesses. The people? All dressed in clothes for perfect weather.
“What’s the big idea? It’s supposed to be raining!” A passerby eyes her warily before scurrying down the street. Lowering her voice, she asks, “Wasn’t it?”
He grasps his chin and sweeps his eyes over the bustling street. “I do believe so.”
For a long moment, he takes it all in before something—share, please! —seems to click for him. An almost imperceptible frown flits across his face, gone before she can attempt to ask. An imposter smile, too stiff to be genuine, takes its place.
He holds up the umbrella. “I suppose that we won’t require this today.”
“Guess not…?” Hu Tao turns to the sky. Why is it blue?
“I shall return it before we leave. Would you like…"
His voice melts into ambient noise alongside the bustling city and chirping cicadas, a staple of Liyue’s summers. Sunshine falls into her upturned palms, light glinting off her rings. The warmth isn’t new. At least, it shouldn’t be; she was born in sweltering summer heat.
But has winter ever been this warm and lively before? It wasn’t yesterday.
The street signs sit in the same spots, the buildings crowd together as always, and the people hustle about in their daily routines. The city and its inhabitants move as if it’s another day. Nothing has changed, but everything feels out of place. Is it…her?
“Director Hu?”
She opens and closes her hands, trying to wrap her fingers around an answer that doesn’t want to be found, a ghost of a memory. “Hm?”
“Would you like me to take your raincoat as well?”
“No. It’s…” She drops her arms. Her coat sleeves roll back down, shielding her from the sun’s rays. The lack of light feels right. “Fine.”
“Wait here. I shall return shortly.”
Before she can respond, the front door slams shut, and she finds herself alone. Today, he sets off in a hurry.
Hu Tao counts the seconds to his return. Minutes pass before the door reopens, the Open sign clacking against the wood.
She cracks a grin. “Had trouble remembering where the umbrellas go?”
“Perhaps. You do enjoy reminding me that my old age may be catching up to me.” The streets draw his full attention, and his attempt at a joke falls flat on its face before her.
“You aren’t getting any younger.” She forces her laughter to sound upbeat. “So, what took you so long?”
He looks away from the city and down at her. Finally!
“Got lost in there or what?”
She holds her smile against his piercing stare and its quest for answers to questions she doesn’t know. She has nothing worth hiding, besides her discomfort with the oddities of today. Like, seriously, why is the sky blue?
“I…”
“You?”
He clears his throat. “I decided to review the arrangements we will need to make for the client. It seems that I was…mistaken.”
“Mistaken, huh…”
“I apologize for that.” He readjusts his tie and cuffs, fixing what was never out of place. “We will need to speak with the florist today.”
Rocking on her heels, she fiddles with her fingers behind her back, twisting them up like her frazzled thoughts. “All good! Did you check the weather while you were at it?”
“I did. Sunshine for the prospective future. I likely misremembered the forecast, as well as what we should—"
“No.” Frowning, she crosses her arms in the shape of an X. “Nuh-uh! I remember that too, the rain. We can’t have both forgot.”
“Time only moves forward. We are forever growing older. As you have so kindly pointed out numerous times in the past, forgetfulness comes with age. I imagine the same would apply to you.”
“That’s definitely not it!”
“The weather appears to have changed rather drastically.” He speaks in the same accepting tone as the weatherman had when he announced that the storms would continue for the foreseeable future. “Even if the forecast had mentioned rain at one point in time, it could be wrong. It is, after all, merely a prediction.”
“But—”
“No one can know the future.” A placid smile rests on his face, but his posture belies a tension she can’t grasp. “Wouldn’t you agree, Director?”
“I—” She cannot move a boulder. “Yeah… Yeah. You’re right.”
His shoulders relax, and the weight in her heart lifts. Blood is an unmarked checkbox between them. Still, there lives no one she trusts more.
“Come. Let us put aside the speculations and focus on completing the tasks at hand.”
She flips the door sign to Closed. “Let’s!”
Skipping beside him, she rambles a cheery spiel as they make their way to the merchants—about everything of significance and nothing unimportant, like the bitterness of violetgrass she picked around Wuwang Hill. It’s so bitter that it’ll kill all tastebuds for days! Did he know that? Oh, he didn’t? Ever tried uncooked glaze lilies? Nasty things too. Yuck!
She tries her hardest to disregard the discomfort soaking through her coat and warming her back. But between comments, she can’t help but glance skyward. The sun bears down. Like an old friend reappearing after years of no contact, she’ll need to grow accustomed to its presence rather than its absence. But if it’s been sunny all this time, then why?
She raises her hood. Zhongli doesn’t remark. Something is off. Is it her?
Maybe it is her.
Hu Tao’s planner lies open to what everyone—the weatherman, the client, Zhongli, Boo Tao, her phone—says is the current week. The numbers look her in the eye and spit right in it. Massaging her temple with one hand, she taps her pen against today’s date with the other. The black ink blots out the free space of where the agenda should go. It’s a void, like her memory.
Today is July 15th. Her birthday.
What fun! The sun is out. Great! Except she’s 99.999% sure she already celebrated it this year.
She tosses her pen aside with a groan. Has her imagination always run this wild? Who knows, maybe she’ll open her eyes and it’ll be an abnormally rainy January again. Let’s try! Operation: Fast Fwd. On your marks, ready, set, go!
Shutting her eyes, she pushes her chair into a spin with her feet. Fast, faster, and faster still! Hu Tao puts her foot down, and the world lurches to a sudden stop. Swaying, she opens her eyes. The planner sits before her—July 15th, 7/15, her birthday. Today.
“Wow… Wow, I’ve lost it! I can’t believe it!” Her laughter fills her empty bedroom. “Can you?”
Her ringtone blares.
Squealing, she jolts, falling halfway out of the chair but righting herself at the last possible second. Almost met her end there, heh.
The caller ID reads Aether. Her smile drops; discomfort lodges in her throat. That dreadful unease, clinging to her since yesterday, rises to new heights.
Taking a deep breath, she taps accept and presses the phone to her ear. “Hi there!”
“Hey! Happy Birthday, Hu Tao!”
“Thank you, thank you, dearest friend! It’s been so long.” Her ear melds to the phone screen, eager to capture every syllable of his voice. “…So long.”
His laughter crackles. “I saw you two days ago.”
“Ah…was it now? Ah…hah… That’s two days too long, then!”
Another chuckle. “Have any plans already?”
“Who, me? Why, of course!” The black hole in her calendar swirls. The ink bleeds through the page, marring the future with the present. “I’m hanging with you.”
“You saved me a spot in your busy day? I’m honored.”
“No, no, no. The honor is mine, all mine.”
“Uh-huh. Can you be ready in an hour?”
“Sure can! What’re we doing?”
“Can’t say. It’s a surprise.”
“A surprise, huh?” He’s going to treat her to dinner at Liuli Pavilion! It’s a fancy change-up from their usual birthday celebration at Wanmin. She’s always wanted to—
Oh, wait…
No. That’s just a dream she had. An increasingly concerning one, considering how vivid it is and how much detail she remembers from it to the point that she’s been running around believing it’s reality. Breathe! Inhale, exhale…
That was a dream. This is reality.
Before he hangs up, Aether promises to pick her up in an hour. She stares at his name on the screen long after the call disconnects.
Eyes wet, she asks her plushie, Boo Tao. “Am I crazy?”
Aether picks her up an hour after they get off the phone. Right on time, like usual.
On the way to the surprise location—gotta be Wanmin, like usual—they talk about their jobs and crack jokes. Also, like usual.
He takes her to Liuli Pavilion for dinner, a fancy change-up from their usual birthday celebration at Wanmin. He remembers she’s always wanted to eat there. Like usu—What?!
Oh-kaaay! This is more than a little eerie. She doesn’t get scared easily, but she’s almost there. Is she going crazy? Answer’s looking mighty like almost definitely! As much as she despises it, a visit to that green-haired doctor might be in order. Ugh.
Déjà vu breathes down her back. It was bad on the way over—a conversation filled with a Q&A she’s certain she’s been through before—but she brushed it off as a coincidence. Work holds finite combinations of days. It’s bound to sound familiar, right?
But this… What are the odds?
The server sets down their order, Tianshu Meat. The steam wafts up; the aroma of a succulent cut of meat braised to perfection fills her nose. Her mouth waters, partially from the physiological reaction of the brain preparing the body for digestion but mostly from the nauseous panic bubbling in her.
Swallowing, Hu Tao schools her expression into the carefree one everyone tends to remember her for. “It’s here!”
Much to Aether’s embarrassment, she claps her hands in the spitting image of a seal, garnering stares from the other diners. Since it’s her birthday, he doesn’t dare to shush her. Not like he would anyway. He hadn’t tried to stop her the first time they came here either.
No, not last time. That never happened! Focus! The date is July 15th, her birthday. Today is today. That was her imagination. Purely her imagination. It’s not like Aether’ll say, Wow, the food looks—
“Wow, the food looks great!” He motions to the dish. “Dig in. I hope it’s a good surprise.”
That doesn’t count! It’s a generic, throwaway line. NPC-level dialogue!
“It’s a great surprise, thanks,” she says. Sticking to the script, she takes the first bite and kicks her feet. “So good!”
It’s a lie.
Unlike her dream, the acrid flavor of anxiety ruins the spices. It tastes rotten, spoiled like her birthday. The urge to throw up grows with each squish of the tender meat between her teeth, but she forces herself to chew and swallow.
“So, so, so good! Thank you.”
“You’re welcome!” Both rows of his teeth are on display. An unfortunate speck of the steamed qingxin stems peeks between his incisors. “Think you could make something like this one day? Joking! Joking! Please don’t try to burn down your place again.”
Seated across from her, the charred corpse smiles, its soft tissue burned away to anonymity. Only the dulled gleam of its teeth remains, a dot of green hiding between them.
A chopstick slips free from her hand, clattering against the plate, kicking up a din in the hushed restaurant. She swallows down a shriek.
Instantly, eyes are on her—Aether’s and the strangers’. Her shoulders hunch, sweat beading under her hat. Seen in the worst way, in the worst state. Can’t a girl lose her mind in privacy?!
“Hu…Tao?”
Quick as a startled rabbit, her eyes dart to him. His chopsticks hang in the air, mid-grab. Confusion and concern put his elation on hold. Furrowed brows frame his face, but he appears fine otherwise. Color fills his flesh-covered cheeks.
“Are you…okay?”
“I’m—”
For the first time tonight, something unprecedented, a scene with zero familiarity, has occurred. She mulls the thought over. Her laughter comes out a little more hysterical than she likes, but she can’t stop it.
“Hu Tao…?” He rises halfway out of his chair, his worry overriding the need to blend in with the masses. The diners’ judgment means nothing.
Her outburst trickles down to a giggle. Picking up the fallen chopstick, she tosses it in the air and catches it with a flourish. Winking, she clacks the pair together. “Ta-dah! Totally fine! Nice recovery, hm?”
“Had me worried for nothing…” Shaking his head in exasperation, he sits down and continues his meal. Crisis averted!
She shoots a curious person with a glare until they turn back to their table. Geez, nosy much? “Gotta keep you on your toes!”
Maybe she’s not crazy? Not that much, at least. She hadn’t predicted all that. Is this the part where she makes her turnaround to normal town? Everyone loves a good underdog story! The grand reversal!
Look, she can even taste some of the seasoning on her next bite. Nope, not crazy. No doctor necessary!
Hah. Kidding…
Dinner continues over what should be light conversation, but each word pins a weight on her. Aether speaks, and Hu Tao finds herself once again reading along to a mental script of the conversation that’s never actually happened before. The small relief from the appearance of the unknown disappears, anxiety soaring.
When the bill comes, she hurriedly offers to pay. Time to rewrite that daydreamed ending.
As expected of her friend, her absolutely, positively dearest of friends, Aether refuses. It’s her birthday, after all. It was supposed to be his treat!
Nuh-uh! She won’t hear it. She wants to pay. How can he deny her most dire of wishes today? She’s the birthday girl, after all! Don’t make her pout. She will. Really, she will. He wants to see? Okay! Here she goes—Aw, giving in already…? As one should, hehe. He can wait outside if he doesn’t like it!
As the worker processes her credit card, Hu Tao glances out the window. Aether, oblivious as ever to his surroundings, busies himself taking pictures of the summer greenery. A toothpick hangs from between his lips. Did he manage to pick out the leftovers?
The bill rings higher than she would ever dream of splurging on herself. Ah, her wallet, how it wails! What a waste of mora! With all her worries, she didn’t get to enjoy it!
But Aether did. Is that adequate compensation? Does that make up for her terrible imagination?
She hopes it does. She really does.
She had dreamed of his death. In full color. With a whole epilogue to boot! What kind of friend does that? She must be sick. She must be…
Today, the sun is shining. Again.
With her umbrella open, pitch black to block out the dreadful light, Hu Tao sets out across town for her appointment with Baizhu. She’s managed to keep the whole doctor’s visit under wraps with an easy excuse—off to gather inspiration. No one bats an eye. Does that say more about her or them? Them, 1000% them.
No one knows where she’s really headed, not even Zhongli. Technically, Baizhu doesn’t either. She filled out the online reservation with a fake name. No one needs to know she is en route to losing her mind —turbo speed, no stopping even for bathroom breaks! Even if her strange sudden avoidance of the sunlight gives it away, secrecy takes priority!
Hm…? Will the fake name be a problem when she tries to use her insurance? Ah, well, she’ll find out later. Time to go get her head fixed!
The quack should give her a discount after she refers Zhongli. Since the day she misremembered the forecast, everything has been weird. Both of their memories are off. Hers with more; his, less.
She misses Zhongli’s surprise long-winded info dumps. Now, he hesitates to speak. Everything requires confirmation first. Questions about arrangements for the client? Hm, apologies, this must wait until he can confirm against the planner. He never needed to check that much before. What happened? Old age…? Man, it hits hard.
Eh, if he screws up, she can dock his pay a bit. Gotta pay off that fancy birthday dinner somehow. But he never triggers that nervous déjà vu sensation that’s been trailing her. Was a raise in order?
Then again, it feels less like a play-by-play reenactment if she does things out of the norm. Get more unpredictable to override the predictable? A thought for later.
But that’s all just crazy talk accompanying her crazy thoughts. Is this work stress? The infamous burnout? Scary!
“Hu Tao?”
Tilting her umbrella back, Aether comes into view, happy and most assuredly alive. How could she have killed him off in her dreams? Sick. She’s sick.
“Hello Aether, my dear old pal! And—" Lumine, his twin sister, stands beside him—"hello!” Hu Tao greets her with a wave, a simple and safe greeting. She mentally pats herself on her back.
Delusional memories fill in a whole friendship arc between her and Lumine, going from mere names in passing to sharing drinks at a hole-in-the-wall café. One glance at reality confirms that’s all fantasy. The Lumine before her stares without the spark of familiarity. Aloof without any real warmth, it’s a distant look, the one reserved for strangers.
Hu Tao conjures up some happiness to mask the ongoing disaster aka The Meltdown of Her Sanity. Geez, can she get any weirder about this? She made up being friends with her best friend’s sister. Over his death, no less!
Sick. Sick. So sick!
The Real Lumine smiles politely. “Hello…” She pauses and waits for…something? When that something doesn’t happen, she glances back at Aether, who’s busy watching a butterfly flap around. “Aether?”
Aether, hello Aether, come in. Are you there?
The butterfly flutters away, and the spell breaks. “Huh?” he says very intelligently.
Top of his class, ladies and gents. Applause, please!
“Are you, uh, going to introduce us?”
“Introduce you? What’re you talking about?” He shoots Lumine a look of pure confusion. When her expression doesn’t change, his mouth falls open, judgment pouring out. Extra mortification tops it off.
Oh boy, imagine the look he’d give Hu Tao if he peeked into her head lately. Disbelief. Disappointment. Disgust… Never mind. She doesn’t want to imagine that. Begone, foul thoughts!
“It’s Hu Tao!” He motions to her with his hand; Hu Tao waves. “You know, my best friend Hu Tao?”
Lumine winces slightly, so slightly that Hu Tao would’ve missed it if she had blinked, before donning the mask of civility again. “Sorry, I didn’t realize you were Hu Tao.”
“That’s okay.”
She doesn’t sound sorry at all. The disconnect between Dream Lumine’s friendliness and Real Lumine’s frostiness is jarring, to say the least. The Lumine before her resembles the final form of the fake—a woman torn apart by grief. The insincerity and overall lack of energy pluck at Hu Tao’s soul. Where is the vibrancy of life?
“It’s nice to meet you.”
If Hu Tao was anyone else, she would take offense to the blatant disregard. But Hu Tao is Hu Tao, and she has enough on her plate. Anger holds no place at her table. No siree. Besides, she doesn’t expect Lumine to connect the dots between an umbrella-wielding stranger being Aether’s best friend. Sincerely. Even she can admit: the umbrella looks odd.
She goes to tell her as much, so they can maybe, hopefully, be friends like in her make-believe scenario. Less the death, of course!
“You met her last week! At the house!” Aether says. “Remember…?”
Clearly, Lumine does not. Hu Tao doesn’t either, not fully, not with the same level she should for something as recent as a week ago. Where has the time gone?
“She came over for movie night… The horror movie marathon?”
Oh! Yes, Hu Tao does remember—the first time she met Lumine, both iterations of Lumine. Whether real or imaginary, their beginning starts the same: a chance encounter at a movie marathon at Aether’s. The plot runs off on its own after… Well, after a few days ago.
“Oh, I—” Lumine gnaws on a flake of dead skin clinging to her bottom lip. Blood pools in the cracks. “I guess, I forgot.”
He throws up his hands in exasperation. “It was last week! You’ve been forgetting a lot lately... Are you sure you want to go out today?”
“Of course, I do! I’m fine!” Casting her eyes to the ground, she purses her lips, hiding her hands behind her back. “I’m fine… I swear.”
Aether opens his mouth to say more but changes his mind. Scratching his head, he turns away.
Sibling fights, eh? Awkward stuff…
Hu Tao twirls the umbrella in her hands. “Well…not to interrupt, but I should probably be going now. Or I’ll be late, late, late.”
“Sorry!” A flush creeps its way up his neck. “Didn’t mean to drag you into this.”
Hu Tao waves him off. Her easy smile works double duty, reassuring and disarming. “We all forget things. No offense taken.”
Her gaze slides over to Lumine, unsettlingly still as a stone and cold as a corpse. Something is out of alignment. When Hu Tao recalls their first encounter at the party, the past fails to reconcile with the present but all too well with the fake future. Looking at Aether’s sister, Hu Tao feels as if the sun has slipped past the barrier of her umbrella, shining directly on her in all its peculiar light.
“Seriously. Don’t worry, Lumine.” Hu Tao’s smile stretches wider, the corners of her eyes scrunching up. “It’s gotta be the weather.”
Lumine stares at her with dead eyes until Aether not so discreetly nudges her. “Yes, it must be the weather.”
“Mmhmm. It’s enough to throw anyone off. I mean, it changed so suddenly, right?”
“It really did.”
Hu Tao nods along like it’s the truth, ignoring Aether’s baffled expression. “In a split second, really. Crazy, huh?”
After changing the conversation back to something lighter—Hu Tao’s specialty of nonsensical discoveries—she bids the siblings goodbye and continues down the street. She feels what must be Lumine’s eyes trained on her.
Turning the corner, she heads for the back streets. Let Baizhu call around for the fake name and number. If her hunch is right, she doesn’t need him. She never has.
Navigating through the maze of alleyways, Hu Tao keeps her umbrella low, hiding herself from prying eyes. She picks up her pace as the funeral parlor comes into view. Bursting through the entrance, she slams the doors against the walls, loud enough to wake the dead. Meng almost upends the front desk in fright. Stuttering, he rattles off questions about her wellbeing. Beyond a quick check that his soul is still attached to his body, she pays him no mind. He really needs to get used to how she operates.
She gives Zhongli’s office equal treatment, entering without a knock or announcement and locking the doors behind her. In typical Zhongli fashion, he doesn’t bolt from his desk, merely sparing her a glance and sigh. She sends him a peace sign with her fingers as a thank you for the look, which is more of a reaction than he usually gives.
Collapsing into the chair opposite him, she kicks her legs up over the armrest, letting her feet dangle in the air. “Hey.”
He sets his cup and paperwork on his desk and peeks at the clock. “Back already?”
“Eh, couldn’t find what I was looking for out there, so I came back. Timing’s what this’s all about. For outside, it’s not right now.”
“I see.”
She wiggles her eyebrows. “Oh, missed me already?”
“There is much work to be done.”
“Aw, so you did! It’s okay. I always come back, you know!”
Grunting, he picks his cup up and takes a sip. “As you do.”
The voices of the other funeral parlor employees drift past the door. As they continue down the hall, the noise fades, dying away into silence like the flatlining of a heartbeat. Then, it’s just her, Zhongli, and all the inanimate junk he hoards. It bothers most people—the stillness—but after living long enough in a profession where death takes center stage, it’s an old friend.
Taking a deep breath, Hu Tao closes her eyes. When they open, she breathes out and sheds any pretense of humor. “I’d like a real answer. Yes or no’ll work, if you don’t want to explain.” She swings her legs around, setting her feet on the floor to sit properly. “Do you remember it raining?”
He gazes down into his cup, divining answers—or lies—for her. “The forecast said—"
“I don’t care what the forecast says. I care about what it said.”
His eyes, a pair of amber gems encasing the history of a story she doesn’t know, bore into her. They plead for her not to continue. Avoid unearthing the past.
“About what I’m pretty sure we both think it said…” Is she losing it? Has she already? “Do you remember?”
The cup touches his lips. He tilts it to drink, but nothing comes. He’s out.
Expelling a sigh, he sets it down. “Would you like some tea?”
“It’d be nice.”
He rises without further interrogation. Puttering around the room, he measures the leaves and steeps them for the exact number of minutes needed for the strength they compromised on years ago—mild enough for her to enjoy, strong enough for him to appreciate. It’s a delicate balance, one they’ve only found through honesty and consideration.
She offers her thanks as he pours her a cup. The earthy scent of green tea billows into her face, the steam warming her eyes. From the honey color alone, she can tell—it’s perfect.
Hu Tao waits until he’s retaken his seat and they’ve both had time to enjoy their cups before she speaks again, taking him up on his unspoken invitation. Honesty can only be met in the presence of honesty.
“I’m close to seeing that doctor for help. My memory, there’s…gaps, beyond the weather.” She frowns. “No, not gaps. Additions. Only gap’s between where the extras join to the rest. I— I need an honest answer because I don’t know if I can trust myself. Not anymore.”
Hu Tao holds his stare and her breath. Lately, trust in herself wavers, but she never doubts him. Time has proven it so.
As her fear of going unanswered forms, his eyes drift from her to his cup and back. “Yes…”
The air rushes from her lungs.
“Yes, I do recall it raining prior to that day. It had rained for months on end.” He glances out the window. Not a cloud in sight today. “Since the middle of summer.”
“Thank you.”
“Is that all you wished to inquire about?”
The opening syllable of a question escapes, but she locks it up and throws away the key with a nod. “Yes, that’s all I needed to know. No need to say anymore.”
“Are you not curious about how this has come to be?”
“Of course I am!” The tears she had tried to hold back leak out as she laughs. “I wanna know everything! Eh, not everything per se. But, yes, I would love to know how we went from winter to summer again. And so many other things!”
“Then…?”
Shaking her head, she reigns herself in. “But it doesn’t really matter how we’re here or how anyone remembers… It happened. Like death, sometimes, you have to be satisfied with not knowing. I can live with that.”
The tension in his shoulders slackens, but a small valley remains between his eyebrows. “Thank you, Hu Tao.”
“No, thank you, Zhongli.” The box of tissues on his desk—standard issue for every room of the parlor for client breakdowns—is empty. Tugging her coat sleeve down, she rolls the cuff’s edge over her finger and goes to swipe at her face.
“Director…”
From his breast pocket, he pulls out a handkerchief—a silken square of intricate geometric golds and browns—and offers it to her. The symbol of mora rests in the center, embroidered with a level of detail that can only be achieved by hand. From the slight frays in the corners and where the threads start to separate, she can tell it’s an old gift, well beyond her age, only whole due to its careful upkeep. It’s far more precious than a few stray tears of hers.
Hu Tao holds it out to him, but he presses it back into her palm, closing her fingers around it. The corners of her lips quirk up, the burning behind her eyes rising with a new tide of emotion. She dabs the tear away before it can fall.
“Rain… Rain pours…” His fingers twitch. From nerves or the habit of reaching for the confirming schedule of lies, Hu Tao can only guess.
She cocks her head.
The internal debate plays out on his face—regretting speaking versus stopping. He blinks slowly. His eyes open and shut like a camera capturing her image, her memory, as if she’s planning on disappearing with the summer they remember.
“Rain?” she prompts.
Nodding, he straightens up in his chair. She mirrors him; his lectures are never pointless. He never lets her drown when an answer can save her.
“Rain pours so steadily nowadays. It’s hard to believe the sun can still shine. Or that it ever did.”
Recognition needles its way into her mind. “Indeed…” The world hears the word in her voice, but her mind plays his. Slowly, cautiously, she forms the next line from the script, watching with fervor for his reaction. “And yet, every rainfall comes to an end, whether today or tomorrow.”
A nod confirms she’s stepped on the right path. “You don’t get it. None of you do.”
Her lines, his lines, her again, then… Hu Tao reaches into her memory for the words she had spoken once before to her.
“No, we don’t,” she says, the image of a distant day in her office repainting itself. “No one holds the other party, the deceased, in quite the same regard. But we do know grief in our own lives, with our own loved ones.”
She springs to her feet and slams her palms on the desk, jostling the cup of tea. Her heart rabbits in her chest, rushing blood audible in her ears. “We’re not judging you. We only hope that, one day soon, the weather turns for you. And you’ll be willing to step into the light again.”
Staring down into her cup, her relief—of her not losing her sanity and being solo on the “Hey, I Remember!” train—transforms into curiosity. Golden hair frames golden eyes, misplaced anger paces in them, locked away behind bars of clinical detachment.
As the last ripple settles in the tea, she looks up at Zhongli. His eyes are already on her. “Thank you for the…reminder.”
“Thank you, as well.”
The statement gives her pause. For what? He doesn’t elaborate.
She reaches across the desk, handkerchief outstretched to dab at his non-existent tears. Sighing, he redirects her hand. Must be wondering what unfortunate destiny brought him into this workplace with such a child.
Giggling, she pockets the handkerchief, jotting down a mental note to wash it before returning it. “No need to thank me. Like I said, I always return! Wouldn’t want you getting too lonely at the office without me. Who would tell you about the different faces the dock squirrels make?”
“Yes, who would enlighten me on a subject of such importance?”
“Oh? Is that an invitation? Wanna hear?”
He busies himself with paperwork, but she catches the hint of a smile. “Your company is most welcome.”
“Oh ho!” She falls into her chair. “Settle in then cause I have a story for you!”
By total and complete chance—and 1000% not her own orchestrations, nope—Hu Tao bumps into Lumine a few days later. She spins a tale of surprise and intrudes into Lumine’s solo walk, paying no heed to the increasingly unsubtle clues to get lost.
“Oh, watch out!” Hu Tao yanks Lumine under the umbrella before the highly dangerous falling object—a leaf—can crack her skull. She laughs off the overreaction. “It’s…been a weird week.”
“It has.” Lumine stares pointedly at where Hu Tao’s hand wraps around her wrist, but Hu Tao pretends not to notice, keeping her thumb on her pulse. Steady so far.
“Oh-ho? How so? Been meeting ghosts all week?” A wince and a spike in heartbeat! Oh? Curious stuff’s at hand. In hand? Heh. “We got off to a wrong start the other day. I want to say, I meant what I said. I’m not mad about you not remembering me.”
“Thanks.”
“Thought it was odd, is all.” That Lumine wants to play this game still. Hu Tao understands though; no one enjoys pain, not when it’s real.
“It was just—I forgot for a minute.”
“Like I said, it’s the weather. Went from overcast to full heat overnight.” Hu Tao tilts the umbrella to the side, letting the light rain down on them. Lumine’s hair glows in the sunlight, capturing the warmth of life. It’s a tragedy that death will drain the color. “Rain pours so steadily nowadays. It’s hard to believe the sun can still shine.”
Lumine’s mouth drops open, panic in place of indifference. Time for her turn on the stage, but her lines have been stolen.
When their eyes meet, Hu Tao knows—she hasn’t lost her mind. Someone’s swapped out the script. For whatever reason, she and Zhongli have one of the old copies. And so does Lumine.
“Surprise! You’re not crazy either!” Hu Tao smiles sadly. Life can be cruel. “Good to see you again.”
Lumine rips her arm away, knocking the umbrella onto the ground, and runs off without a reply.
Certainty tastes like ash on Hu Tao’s tongue. She hopes Lumine enjoys the weather while it lasts; they know the sun won’t shine forever.