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“Here,” Xiao said a few feet away from her, making her turn her head in his direction. Smiling, she took the qingxin he’d managed to get and put them in her inventory.
It was a long, arduous commission. When Lumine heard from Katheryne that Hu Tao needed 80 qingxin flowers, she almost fainted. She was aware the Chasm had a few, but unfortunately, given the fact the mine was still completely closed off, she had to somehow manage without that area. She had no intentions of getting on the bad side of the Qixing.
Not only did qingxin grow in high places, but they had the tendency to grow alone, as well. It was odd. She’d only seen three of them together in the same place, at most, and it made finding them a difficult task. She would call it a miracle that Xiao agreed to help her, what with him knowing the land like the back of his hand and being able to easily teleport around. He was finding more flowers than her (not that it was a competition, but still).
“I need a few more. Qingce Village has some around the area, right?” she asked him after counting the number of flowers she had. Xiao nodded, she nodded in return and with a sigh, sat down. He was staring at her incredulously.
“I’ve been climbing all day, I need to rest a little,” she explained, and blamed it on the lonely nature of qingxin. For a second, she thought he would offer to go and get the flowers alone, just to finish the task once and for all, but much to her surprise, he sat down next to her, albeit keeping some distance. They’d known each other for a while, and she still couldn’t understand him completely, it was hard to say what he would do next.
They sat in comfortable silence and her mind wandered. Why would someone order so many flowers for a funeral? Hu Tao didn’t seem to mind, if she asked for the commission herself. Maybe whoever was organizing the funeral lost someone special? If that was the case, and if they asked for such an amount of flowers, then they probably lost their soulmate.
Lumine knew the basics of it—only after touching their soulmate for the first time was someone able to start seeing colors. This wasn’t the first world Lumine had seen that had soulmates in it, but it definitely had a unique way of going about it. She couldn’t imagine herself and her world with only black and white, it would be sad and dare she say, boring, to live that way.
Only then did she realize she never asked Xiao about his situation regarding the issue. Now would be a good time to ask, right?
“Xiao,” she called and he hummed to let her know he was listening. “Have you found your soulmate?”
She didn’t miss the way his shoulders jumped ever so slightly, or how there was a twitch in his fingers, or even how his eyes widened. It made her worry… Had she touched a nerve? It didn’t take him long to hide his apparent surprise and turn his head to look at her with a frown, yet it was too late, she’d seen it all.
“That is personal. Why do you even want to know?” It was close to a snarl, and she wasn’t expecting him to be so defensive about the ordeal. If anything, she had waited for him to dismiss her question in some way, but not like this.
“I was just… curious. If you haven’t found them–”
“Do not make assumptions.”
She blinked at that, and couldn’t help herself.
“Then… Do you already know who–”
“I just told you to not make assumptions.”
Well… Which one was it, then? Did he or did he not know who his soulmate was?
He stood up and she followed. Xiao wouldn’t look at her and was still frowning, eyes glued to the ground, his hands forming tightly clenched fists. Lumine was curious to know, but she made the wise decision to not push it anymore, as she didn’t want to worsen his already tense state.
“Alright… I’m sorry,” she murmured and took a step closer, but she didn’t dare take another due to the side-eye he gave her. Her hand cautiously reached for his shoulder, hoping to calm him down, but her seemingly innocent gesture had yet another reaction she wasn’t expecting.
When he saw her hand approach, he recoiled instantly before she could even graze his skin. It made her draw her hand back and finally meet his eyes. For a moment, she saw a vulnerability in them she couldn’t recognize, but it was gone before she could dwell on it.
“Xiao–”
“No.”
With that, he was gone, and she was left with way too many questions.
“So, tell me, how’s Xiao?” Hu Tao asked her, cheery and casual as she usually was, but with a short glance, Lumine could easily spot the knowing smirk the director had on her face as they both carried the qingxin inside.
“Why are you asking me?” she asked back instead of answering.
“Well, duh, because he helped you, of course!”
“He didn’t,” she said, maybe a little too quickly. She was unsure who she was lying for, Xiao or herself.
“Ay-ay-ay,” Hu Tao shook her head, as if she were disappointed in Lumine. “Lying doesn’t look good on you, Traveler. Spirits speak, you know.”
That was a creepy thing to say, but by this point, she wasn’t surprised—creeping everyone out was Hu Tao’s brand. Even so, the idea of spirits gossiping between each other, as humorous as it was, didn’t help in cheering her up. The abrupt way in which he’d left her earlier still stung; she wondered if her displeasure showed on her face.
She’d been tempted to call for Xiao after their small… disagreement, but she ultimately decided against it—it wouldn’t be fair, to abuse his promise just because she didn’t want him walking out of an argument. When she had time, she would look for him to apologize.
What else could she do? Curious as she was, it was clear Xiao had no intention of sharing.
“Ah, director, I see the Guild managed to fulfill the commission.”
Placing the basket filled to the brim with flowers down, Lumine looked at the source of the voice, finding Zhongli with his arms crossed—a gesture that reminded her of Xiao. Hu Tao also put her basket down, albeit less carefully, and clasped her hands together.
“Yep! I knew I could count on the Traveler for this, these are as fresh as a plum blossom in spring.”
Lumine didn’t miss a beat.
“Zhongli, could I talk to you?” she asked, glancing in Hu Tao’s direction. “In private?”
The man in question slightly narrowed his eyes, but was quick to accept her request and invite her to his office, keeping his tone professional despite her guessing he probably already knew the topic she wanted to discuss wasn’t something unimportant. Luckily, Hu Tao didn’t raise any objections and left to work on the arrangements for someone’s funeral.
Lumine entered the room and closed the door behind her, taking some time as she mulled over how to phrase her question. To be completely honest, she didn’t have high expectations, given Zhongli would probably prioritize Xiao’s privacy over her misplaced curiosity, but she had a trump card she could use, as dirty as using it would be.
“What was it you wanted to talk about, Lumine?” he asked her, his voice filling the silence. Most likely an indirect way of urging her to sit down and she did, lacing her hands together.
“It’s about Xiao, about… his soulmate,” she said, forfeiting beating around the bush. Zhongli straightened up at this, his expression turning more serious, more solemn, as he placed his elbows on his desk.
“I reckon you’re asking me because Xiao was unwilling to share, yes?” While it was a question, it was more of a statement he wanted her to confirm, and she reluctantly did. The archon hummed, very clearly not surprised.
“And I reckon you’re aware I can’t simply tell you this information, even if you have good intentions.”
Expected. It was Lumine’s turn to not be surprised, and she simply leaned back against her chair and crossed her arms. Should she pull her trump card out now? Or try to convince him through normal means? Knowing Zhongli, the literal embodiment of Geo, maybe the latter wasn’t even an option. He was a rock hard to sway, not even the strongest waves could bring him down, nor his resolution.
“Is there a contract keeping you from telling me this, too?” she asked instead, and judging by the barely perceptible twitch of his fingers, Zhongli knew exactly what she was referring to.
“If you can’t tell me about the Calamity, at least grant me this.”
That day, under the tree of Nantianmen, she’d expressed her displeasure—telling Zhongli that this could very well lead directly to her brother, that he was only making her journey longer. She’d even brought up the supposed Contract to end all Contracts, and his response had simply been that ‘this is a contract that cannot be voided’. The interaction had left a sour taste in her mouth, but she didn’t regret it and if Zhongli was acting casual even after that, then he hadn’t minded her rant, but the spark of guilt wasn’t fully imperceptible.
“I didn’t think you would resort to that,” he commented plainly, but Lumine didn’t say a word and waited. Unless he began talking, she had nothing else to add and his obvious scrutiny of her didn’t intimidate her. If anything, it made her return the gesture.
“Alright, I will tell you what I know, with the condition that you won’t use the information I give you to hurt Xiao.”
A contract, of course.
“I would never.”
“Very well,” he sighed, standing up from his chair to walk to a small tea station he had set up. There were a few seconds when the only thing that could be heard was the pouring of the liquid onto the cup.
“He was born without one.” And then he sipped his tea too casually, as if he had just told her the weather.
… What?
“Everyone, when born or brought into existence, is unable to see colors, even if their soulmate doesn’t exist yet. Xiao’s case is different, because he has been able to see colors ever since his first day on Teyvat. It wasn’t that his soulmate wasn’t born yet, it was simply that he didn’t have one.”
Lumine was frowning, a thousand questions running through her head, but she stayed silent for Zhongli to continue. If this was the truth, and it had to be because Zhongli wouldn’t lie to her, then it already explained why Xiao had been so defensive about the topic.
“Certainly, when he told me about it, I was surprised—it was the first time I had ever heard of something of the sort, that not a soul on the continent was deemed compatible with someone.”
Zhongli sounded forlorn, his expression a frown that spoke of ancient memories, even as he sat down and set his tea aside. Lumine registered the new information, and found herself frowning more at the thought, somehow sympathizing with the yaksha. She wondered if Celestia had a personal vendetta against him, what with how much he had suffered throughout his life.
“Then, one day, he came to me bearing shocking news,” he continued, finally, with Lumine perking up at the voice. “He was tied to someone, around five centuries ago, when he suddenly couldn’t see colors anymore.”
“Just like that? Why? What changed?” She couldn’t help herself.
“I don’t know, not even today. If he has found them or not, I don’t know, either.”
Lumine’s hand went up to her chin in thought. She only knew so much about how soulmates worked in Teyvat, but if Zhongli was saying this was rare, then it meant Xiao was an extremely special case. He wasn’t a fan of attention, no wonder these two probably kept the information under wraps. She wouldn’t ask anything else specific about Xiao, she already knew more than enough and she would have time to think all of this through in her teapot.
“What’s it like? Having a soulmate, I mean.” She didn’t miss how nostalgia flooded Zhongli’s eyes, his entire self, and it made him lose some of his glow.
“You only notice how dull your life was once you find them, and it feels like you’re alive for the first time ever. You feel your heartbeat against your chest and you want nothing more than to hold them in your arms. I suppose it’s a small… ah, side effect, that soulmates quite literally itch to be near each other. Physical contact brings comfort almost immediately.”
It was obvious he was speaking from experience.
“You’re pulled to them and while you can resist it if you want to, it harms you in the process. Your soul aches for them and the lack of their presence can fill you with unbearable sadness, even lead you to madness,” he said and a second later chuckled, but he didn’t develop any further.
“… Thank you for sharing, Zhongli.”
He nodded and grabbed his cup to distract himself, his hand shaking. Lumine decided to leave him alone, the information she’d received bittersweet.
What are you supposed to do, when the person you’re in love with is already destined to be with someone else?
This was a question that plagued Lumine and no matter how much she tried to ignore it, she always came back to it whenever she thought about her feelings for Xiao, ones that arose the more time she spent with him and her attempts at stopping herself from falling had been futile. The reality of her situation haunted her and she could only yearn for him, admire him from afar, his kindness and his heart and the ghosts of his smiles.
What was worse was that she couldn’t even touch him, and she still didn’t know why. He never let her, always flinched or moved away, and she couldn’t bring herself to ask, despite wanting to tear the hairs from her head. He didn’t want to touch her, yet he never denied her presence. It was confusing and Lumine wasn’t precisely a fan of not knowing. Not knowing what was going on in Xiao’s head, not knowing what to do with these feelings of hers, not knowing who her rival was, if she could even call them that.
If anything, she was the obstacle in the way of what was inevitable between Xiao and his soulmate, who she had no idea whether he’d found or not. The most selfish part of her liked to assume he hadn’t, since that way she could live in the fantasy where it was just him and her, and no one else.
Lumine hadn’t touched the topic again ever since his outburst—not out loud, at least. The conversation with Zhongli made her realize why it was probably a sensitive and even confusing topic to talk about, and while she was still curious and the unanswered question still bothered her, she managed to stay silent about it.
If Xiao wanted to keep that to himself, then so be it—she wouldn’t prod.
Inazuma helped her forget about it, and now that she was going back to Liyue for the first time after months, she would be able to spend some time with Xiao without pining for him like a lovestruck idiot.
There was a glint of something in his eyes when he saw her on the balcony with a plate of almond tofu in hand, as it was customary by that point. His greeting words didn’t give anything away, but Lumine liked to imagine he was genuinely happy to see her.
They settled down on the rooftop of the inn and she gave him a summarized version of everything she went through in Inazuma, from the voyage itself to her fight with the shogun. He didn’t look too happy with finding out that she’d fought an archon, but he made no comment on it, so she didn’t, either.
“I’ve gotten stronger,” she commented instead. “Who knows, I might be able to take you on.”
Xiao scoffed.
“If you want to spar, fine, though I would suggest we do it without any elemental abilities. Anemo and electro together would serve more as an inconvenience if anything.”
Lumine hummed in agreement– and then her entire body went frigid.
She hadn’t mentioned that.
She hadn’t mentioned that she’d resonated with electro.
It was a fact and it wasn’t something she deliberately chose to skip saying, she simply forgot. There was a light frown knitting her eyebrows as she looked at Xiao, who was staring forward, probably waiting for an answer. How did he know? Did he assume it? It was a possibility, since he knew of her ability to resonate with the elements thanks to the statues, and he’d even been there when Paimon pointed out her dress–
That’s it.
Her dress, she realized with gasp . Some parts of it changed colors depending on the element she was using at the moment and right then, the lights of her attire glowed purple.
“What is it?” Xiao asked, snapping her out of her shock. Lumine figured she’d been staring at him and he noticed the surprise and even mild disbelief that most likely painted her face. With a gulp, she debated on whether or not she should point out his slip up. Loathe as she was to admit it, somehow her heart won the fight, her burning desire for him.
Lumine, sometimes, couldn’t comprehend what made her so adamant on knowing this about Xiao, despite having promised she wouldn’t bother him about him any longer. The uncertainty had a tight grip around her heart, clearly, as she began speaking once she made her decision.
“I never said I was using electro now,” she said and kept her face neutral despite Xiao very obviously realizing he’d slipped. No point in beating around the bush.
“You know because of my dress, don’t you? Because the lights are purple now.”
She decided to go straight for the accusation, because she knew he wouldn’t lie. He could avoid the question all he wanted, but he had never and would never lie to her. Xiao let out a heavy sigh and turned away.
“This again? Drop the topic, it is not something I wish to talk about.”
He didn’t deny her statement. He could see colors. He knew who his soulmate was, and now she needed to know, too. Would it matter? No, because Xiao would never love her anyway, but a part of her was urging her to push, to demand an answer now and not let what happened months ago happen again.
There was no sign that he would leave. Something was making him stay and she decided to use that to her advantage.
Who did he yearn for? Who was the subject of his affections—affections she selfishly desired for herself?
“Why do you not want me to know?” she asked before anything else, the all nagging question. Why was it such a big secret? She couldn’t understand—if he knew and he wasn’t an exception like before, then what was the big deal? Everyone she asked had been happy to share who their soulmate was, or tell her that they hadn’t found them yet.
“Why do you insist on this so much?” he asked instead, making her straighten up.
“That doesn’t answer my question, Xiao.”
He scoffed again, though this time it was dry and without a single hint of amusement or fondness in it. It took him a moment, as if he were actually considering being honest with her.
“Because I don’t want you to know,” he snapped at her, and as much as it hurt her to drive him to that point, she just– she needed to know. It was eating away at her heart, the horrible enigma, like an insatiable beast that wanted nothing more than to drain her happiness and leave her a hollow, pining mess of a person.
“I don’t understand. Why? Is your soulmate someone despicable or–?” Lumine stopped talking the second she saw him stand up in a haste and interrupt her.
“No! Archons, no…” he exclaimed as he ran a hand through his hair. He sounded sure of it, determined, as if the mere suggestion were an insult, and it caused a pang of jealousy in her heart; how he defended his soulmate in a heartbeat. She wasn’t angry, oh no, she was frustrated—at him, because it was like he didn’t want to tell her specifically, and it just made no sense.
Lumine frowned, and stood up as well. Just like he was determined to keep his secret, she was hellbent on getting it out of him.
“Then why?! Why are you so–”
She slipped on the tiles with a yelp, her footing unstable, unlike his. It wasn’t a surprise when he reached over to grab her arm and keep her from plummeting down the inn.
Neither said a word and even the night itself went silent, making them unable to focus on anything else but each other. Lumine couldn’t look away from his eyes, which were suddenly so unbelievably fond that she thought for a second she was hallucinating the entire situation, but his hold on her arm was firm and gentle. She could feel the warmth that radiated off his skin and oh how she reveled in it.
While she couldn’t fully read him, his expression was a flurry of emotions he rarely showed, until his eyes flickered to their arms. A sudden squeeze, which she returned immediately. It made him look up at her once more and then he averted his gaze in… shame? That couldn’t be right.
He muttered something and she cursed the distance between them for making her unable to hear it.
When she moved in such a way to regain her footing, he helped her out, but his eyes were on the tiles and on the tiles alone. This time, she waited for him to repeat himself instead of insisting; his change in demeanor sweeping away all and any frustrations she had before. Xiao was still holding her arm and she moved to squeeze his hand in an attempt to reassure him.
With a light sigh, he pulled away from her and it almost looked like it pained him to do so.
“Because it’s you,” he mumbled finally.
…
What?
What?
Did she hear that correctly? She couldn’t have. But she wasn’t– It didn’t… It couldn’t be. Her vision became blurry and she closed her eyes, trying to ground herself and make sense of it all. It couldn’t be a joke, no matter how much she liked to think it was—Xiao was the one telling her this, and he wouldn’t joke or lie about something so important, something he was so vehement in keeping a secret.
If she took his words as the truth, what did that entail?
He was born without one.
Zhongli’s words echoed in her memory, as clear as day, almost like the conversation had taken place the day before.
He was tied to someone, around five centuries ago, when he suddenly couldn’t see colors anymore.
Aether and her had arrived in Teyvat around that time, hadn’t they? Did that mean that Xiao had been tied to her ever since she set foot on this world?
Was that why he didn’t want to touch her? But that was contradictory, then, if what Zhongli had said was true—soulmates look for and itch to touch one another, feel the skin beneath their fingertips and bask in the tranquility that their other half brought them.
But then, if Xiao had never touched her until now, how did he find out? Since when had he known? She’d never seen him reach out to her, or linger, or hold her in any way–
Lumine opened her eyes and when she saw him still standing there, his arms now crossed and his eyes still not on her, a memory resurfaced in her mind and played for her: Osial.
He’d saved her.
Carried her.
Too wound up on the problem at hand, she never gave much thought to the fact that he had continued to hold onto her. How the grip around her hand had tightened or how his two words had been the most gentle she’d ever heard him.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she found herself asking, voice flat and disbelieving, but not out of her own volition. One look at her made it clear she was still trying to grasp the concept, to hold the idea in her hands and not let it slip through her fingers.
“There was nothing for me to gain from telling you, except hope, and that is the last thing I need,” he replied, and she noticed he was trying too hard to be curt, blunt.
Does he want it, though? Hope? For something?
She tried to talk, but no words came out.
“Once you find your brother, you will leave. There was no point in letting you know,” he continued and where she would usually retaliate, Lumine stayed silent, letting the words boil between them. That was his perception and it wasn’t wrong—she never really noticed how much she talked about wishing to find Aether, or how her retelling of their encounter in those ruins must’ve affected Xiao.
She didn’t skip any details that time, not even when she mentioned that the second she saw him, her request had been for them to leave this world, leave everything behind. Leave everyone behind.
It’d been too much, she realized now. She had tried too hard to leave her feelings for him aside and make it clear that she wasn’t that attached to him, that she was careless, selfish and unforgiving for what he could possibly feel, even without the soulmate factor in between.
“Didn’t you… ever consider that I could feel the same way?” she asked, soft, afraid that being loud would shatter the moment between them. No, she wasn’t blaming him, but it did bother her that he’d been so quick to discard any possibility of her being with him.
Then again, maybe she was being hypocritical; she’d kept her own feelings to herself due to similar reasons.
“Sure, the rules of this world don’t apply to me. I’m able to see colors wherever I am, but… but it doesn’t make me immune to developing feelings,” she added.
Xiao stayed silent, but at least, this time he was looking at her. His eyes glimmered and he waited, waited for her to make the meaning behind her words obvious, because he didn’t want to hope. His walls had crumbled—she found it easy to read him now and to spot the longing that he’d hidden for so long, and she didn’t think twice when she decided to place her truth on the table.
“That’s why I wanted to know. Because I like you. I like you, Xiao. You had your reasons for keeping that a secret, and I guess I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to come in between you and whoever your soulmate was.”
She finished talking with a chuckle, dry at the irony. All this time being worried about someone else, when she didn’t have to be. Silently competing against herself… It was humorous, really.
In reality, both she and Xiao had been battling against the fear of being rejected, and they’d decided to run from the fight instead of facing the problem. Unbecoming and uncharacteristic of them, but matters of the heart were vastly different to those of a fight.
They had held back, unknowing that they should’ve just spoken to one another. Lumine was careful when she took a step closer, and gently cradled his face in her hands; he almost literally melted, and he relaxed, the tension in his entire being leaving him with a sigh.
That calmness that she was sure he’d been silently craving for was tangible now, for him—he didn’t have to hold back on touching her any longer.
Lumine wasn’t a stranger to touch-starvation, but in this circumstance, when it’s something so natural for you, the reason your heart beats against your chest, what was it like? What had it been like for him to hold back, in spite of having her at arm’s length so many times? Her heart ached at the thought and she couldn’t imagine herself having his resolve—she would’ve given in quickly.
“Give us a chance,” she stated, probably her first confident sentence ever since she found out.
“Lumine–” She cut him off, because she already knew what he intended to say, and she had no intention of hearing it.
“Don’t think about tomorrow, think about today, think about what’s happening right now. What do you want now?”
His eyes flickered to her lips before hesitation painted his features, and she was quick—caressing his cheekbones with her thumbs, smiling ever so slightly when the doubt was cleared.
She already had her answer, and once Xiao closed the distance between them with a wanton kiss, she had his as well.