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There were many things the people of Liyue could endure.
They had endured the siege of ancient gods, the relentless erosion of the Geo Archon’s contracts, and the ever-tightening grip of bureaucracy. They had endured Millelith taxes, Yujing Terrace debates, and the occasional manifestation of horror in the Chasm.
But they were not prepared for Tartaglia—No. 11 of the Fatui Harbingers, Foul Legacy Incarnate, The Ever-Bloody Champion of the Abyss—prancing after the Geo Archon like a lovesick puppy.
It was unnatural. It was terrifying. It was, dare they say, endearing—but only in the way one might find a rabid wolf cute before it lunges for their throat.
“Zhongli,” Childe purred—no, whined—as he trotted after that blockhead, his eyes bright, his tail (metaphorical, for now) wagging. He was practically vibrating. “Zhongli, hey, hey, hey, don’t ignore me, babe. C’mon, just one little kiss? One tiny, insignificant, geologically irrelevant—”
Zhongli sighed, exasperation woven into the very fabric of his being, as he delicately adjusted the sleeve of his coat. “Childe, you are making a scene.”
“You love when I make a scene,” Childe singsonged, leaning forward, hands clasped behind his back, looking for all the world like a well-trained hound waiting for his master’s command.
The people of Liyue Harbor watched in horrified fascination.
Yelan, sipping her tea, nearly choked.
The Millelith patrolling the docks exchanged glances, wordlessly communicating who would be the unfortunate soul to file the report.
Xiangling, mid-chop at Wanmin Restaurant, sliced through an entire countertop, so distracted was she by Tartaglia, the Tsaritsa's weapon of war, sitting obediently at Zhongli’s feet like some noble’s prize dog.
Meanwhile, Zhongli remained infuriatingly composed, as though this was the most natural thing in the world.
“If you behave yourself, I will consider it,” Zhongli finally allowed, adjusting his gloves with a slow, deliberate motion.
Childe beamed.
And then—oh, heavens above—he nuzzled him.
Like an overly affectionate hound, he rubbed his cheek against Zhongli’s shoulder, exhaling a happy sigh, making a noise so saccharine, so utterly devoted, that an elderly man nearby clutched his chest and collapsed.
(He survived. Barely.)
Zhongli, to his credit, did not react. At least, not outwardly. But if one looked closely, if one had the observational skills honed by years of war and stratagem (or if one was, say, a nosy little Qixing secretary named Ganyu peeking from behind a pillar), they might notice the slight twitch of his lips, the brief flicker of amusement in those ancient, amber eyes.
Childe, unaware of—or perhaps completely aware of—the havoc he was wreaking, panted happily.
“Good boy,” Zhongli murmured, voice like molten gold.
Childe froze.
The people of Liyue froze.
And then—
“Oh. Oh, fuck.”
---
“You need to stop,” Xiao deadpanned.
Childe, sprawled across the Wangshu Inn balcony, lazily flicked his hand. “You sound like a jealous ex.”
Xiao twitched. “I’m debating whether I should kill you.”
“Ah, well, get in line, pal,” Childe sighed dreamily. “Lots of people want me dead. But only one man has my heart.”
Xiao scowled. “You are disgusting.”
“I am in love.”
“You are feral.”
“You wound me,” Childe gasped, clutching his chest like a tragic opera heroine. “Look, I can’t help it. Have you seen Zhongli? The man’s a living legend, a relic of the past, a walking history book with abs that could crush a man’s soul—”
“Enough.”
“—and his voice? That rich, deep, golden-tinted baritone? That ‘I have seen civilizations rise and fall and also I know how to properly gut a fish’ kinda voice? Ugh. He could tell me about sedimentary rock formations for six hours straight and I’d only beg for more.”
Xiao looked vaguely nauseous. “I regret asking.”
Childe rolled over, kicking his legs up like a girl writing in her diary. “He called me a good boy.”
Xiao choked.
“Oh, now you’re interested.”
“I am not.”
“He said it in that tone, you know? That ‘I am ancient and wise and also possibly a sadist’ kinda tone.”
Xiao leapt off the balcony.
---
Liyue Harbor was known for its elegance, its discipline, its rich traditions, and its unwavering sense of propriety. It was not, however, known for harboring a rabidly affectionate Harbinger.
Yet here they were.
"Zhongliiii~!"
The former Geo Archon barely had time to turn before he found himself pounced upon—a blur of muscle, flame, and enthusiasm launching directly into his chest. Zhongli, who had long since developed an almost supernatural ability to endure Childe’s nonsense, simply caught him with one hand and resumed sipping his tea with the other.
The street came to a screeching halt.
Pedestrians gawked. A Millelith guard dropped his halberd. Madame Ping, who had been mid-sip of her own tea, choked so violently she needed immediate assistance.
Childe, meanwhile, had absolutely no shame. He was nuzzling Zhongli’s shoulder like a starved animal.
"Did you miss me? I missed you," Childe sighed dramatically, burying his face in Zhongli’s robes. "You smell so good. Like home. And violence. And overpriced funeral expenses."
Zhongli raised an elegant brow. "You were gone for two hours."
"TWO HOURS TOO LONG!"
"...You went to buy fish."
"And I almost died!"
"You did not."
"I could have!"
The horrified citizens of Liyue watched as Childe—an actual, legitimate, highly-ranked Harbinger—whimpered and nudged his nose against Zhongli’s throat like a giant, terrifyingly handsome golden retriever in a human body.
Zhongli, unbothered, placed a hand atop Childe’s ruffled ginger curls and gave a single, affectionate stroke.
The entire street audibly gasped.
Concerned citizens quickly formed a coalition.
"Something must be done," Hu Tao declared, her voice grave.
"About the Harbinger?" Xiao asked.
"About Zhongli!"
Shenhe nodded. "He indulges this behavior far too much."
Baizhu, fanning himself, added, "I don’t know whether to be disgusted or impressed."
Keqing, who had long since resigned herself to never understanding whatever courtship rituals Zhongli engaged in, merely sighed and handed everyone a bottle.
The intervention was held at Wangshu Inn, where Childe had somehow convinced Zhongli to let him curl up on his lap like a pampered housecat.
"...This is worse than we thought," Ganyu whispered.
"Lord Rex Lapis," Shenhe said solemnly. "Do you... require assistance?"
Zhongli, completely unbothered by the weight of a fully-grown man on his lap, scratched the back of Childe’s neck.
Childe, in response, made an actual, factual, devastatingly erotic sound.
A whimper.
A soft, guttural, spine-tingling, should-not-have-been-that-damn-hot whimper.
Xiao physically recoiled.
Keqing covered her ears like a war survivor.
Yanfei stood up and left the building.
"This is the worst day of my life," Hu Tao muttered, her spirit leaving her body.
"Actually, it is quite endearing," Zhongli mused, utterly unfazed. "Childe’s loyalty is unwavering. It is only natural he expresses it through touch."
Childe, still firmly wrapped around Zhongli like a clingy octopus, preened under the praise. "See? He likes it!"
"That is not the point!"
---
AN EVENING OF DRUNKEN REGRET (EXCEPT FOR ZHONGLI, WHO HAS NO REGRETS)
Childe, drunk off his ass, had somehow found his way into Zhongli’s arms yet again.
"I love you," he slurred, tracing Zhongli’s jawline with an awe-struck expression. "Like, so much."
"Yes, dear. I am aware."
"You’re so pretty. Like a rock, but sexy."
Zhongli exhaled slowly. "A poetic compliment, if a somewhat unorthodox one."
"You should let me bite you."
"...Should I?"
"Yeah. Let me mark you up. Like you mark up those ridiculous contracts."
A dark, amused rumble left Zhongli’s throat. "How scandalous."
Childe, still completely draped over him, nuzzled his shoulder again. "I mean it," he murmured. "I’d ruin you. Make you mine."
Zhongli, ever the patient dragon, slid a hand beneath Childe’s chin, tilting his face upwards. "I already am, my love."
Childe, stunned into silence, let out a soft, shuddering breath.
"...Fuck."
---
Try as they might, Liyue could not stop the inevitable.
Childe did not grow out of his puppy tendencies.
Zhongli continued to encourage them.
The last straw was when, to the absolute horror of every witness present, Childe actually started wagging an imaginary tail upon seeing Zhongli.
"YOU HAVE TO STOP THIS!" Keqing begged.
Zhongli, calmly sipping his tea, merely patted his lover’s head.
Childe made the noise again.
Xiao vanished into the abyss.
Yanfei filed seventeen legal objections.
Hu Tao threw herself into a coffin.
And yet—Zhongli, ever patient, ever indulgent, simply smiled.
And scratched behind Childe’s ear.
The sound that followed was absolutely unholy.
Liyue Harbor was never the same again.