Chapter Text
Chongyun is by no stretch of the imagination a stranger to humiliation.
He's well acquainted with it the same way he is with windows of time lost to sunburnt, feverish ecstasies, and the way he isn't with the places he'd often find himself after such nights lost to the incandescent haze of it all.
This said, he's had more than enough opporunity to prepare himself for situations like this one; so, it isn't as difficult as it could've been schooling his face into a careful blankness. It wouldn't necesarilly be something worthy of note, except that he's managed to maintain his composure as well as his balance, as he's being shoved unceremoniously on to his clients doorstep.
His clients voice follows him, floating through the very door he was forcibly evicted from.
"—You goddamn crook! The audacity to call yourself an exorcist—you tell me you can take care of things, and then you come into my house and insult me—"
Chongyun takes the briefest moment to double check his face carefully of any emotion that may've crept into it, while he had been previously preoccupied with not falling on his face; he then spins back around to his client and straightens out in one fluid motion.
"Sir, I sincerely apologize,” he says.”I can understand where you might feel you have misgivings with my work—"
The man scoffs. "You call that work?"
"Really, I was only trying to do my job—"
"Right. And does your job involve sitting there doing nothing but lazing around for hours on end?"
"..."
"..."
"...Well, as I explained beforehand—"
"Don't you patronize me—! I've had enough of that from your—your assistant—I said get out ! Anyways, do I seem like just some old fool to you?"
"Why, the thought would be loathe to ever cross our minds!" says Xingqiu, from somewhere nearby inside the house, currently in the process of being thrown out himself. "We wouldn't have imagined in our wildest dreams that one who presents himself as such a cerebral, upstanding gentleman such as yourself—Hey! Cut it out, old man! We were leaving anyways, you brute—"
Xingqiu manages to make his exit somewhat more dignified than Chongyun’s own; which is to say, with about as much dignity as someone could while being manhandled out someone’s door. He snatches his arm from the man’s grip and brushes himself off with a huff, as he takes his place beside Chongyun.
Their client, an older man—the only kind of clientele available in Qingce Village—is looking worse for wear himself. Whether the task of ridding them from his home had been ardous for his feeble age, or whether it was just from the pure upset, he has an edge of hysteria to him regardless. He's braced against the doorframe, wheezing as he laboriously and somewhat pitifully tries to regain his breath.
He drags his gaze to Xinqiu in such a way that it in itself appears to be a work of labor. "Listen here, you little scoundrel—I've had enough of your attitude, and—and your little mockeries. Just because I don't understand your big, fancy words doesn't mean I can't tell you've been insulting me this entire time."
"Why, I haven't a clue as to what you're speaking of!” Xingqiu straightens out his robes with an offended tug. “And frankly, the audacity required to make such accusations—"
"—And what? Did you think I didn't know how to read? You tried to convince me that book of yours is an ancient exorcist text! It says Young and In Love right there on the cover, plain as day!"
"And what would you know of the exorcist arts? I, heir to the Fieyen Commerce Guild—"
"Oh, right, of course, the Fieyen Commerce Guild. What kind of idiot do you take me for? No—that's enough out of you! Archons know why you were even brought along. And you—"
Chongyun drops the hand that was making a feeble attempt at restraining Xingqiu by his robes, and stiffens tall and rigid as the man's piercing eyes find his own.
"You told me that you were best exorcist in Liyue," the man says.
"...Actually sir, I didn't—"
"I don't know how you earned the reputation you did, but it's unbelievable that there's anyone who'd take you seriously in the slightest.”
All things considered, Chongyun is well-versed in damage control; it was a common occurrence that the only thing which could further embarrass him situations like these would be losing control of himself. So, it wasn't as difficult as it could've been to keep his expression schooled and unflinching, even as he felt a spray of spittle across his face. Xingqiu makes a point of flicking it off from under his eye.
"Some gall you have, swindling poor, old folks,” the man continues. “You're a second rate con artist, and not even a convincing one at that—
"Truly, I am sorry—"
Chongyun keeps his gaze very carefully locked on the finger jabbed into his chest, because he can't afford to risk looking anywhere else. It’s gnarled and wrinkled, and it’s hard to tell if the slight tremor in it is a default characteristic.
"Well, you could've fooled me—at least bother trying to look it!” says the man. “Through this whole ordeal not once have I seen you look anything but a heartless and cold-blooded—"
Hu Tao once compared Chongyun to a marble statue. Specifically, she something along the lines of: "You remind me of someone else I like to talk to. You both have this dependable, tranquil stoicism. I feel like any second now some devotees will interrupt us to make some pious offering." It had taken him the days later to realize what she had meant, and he only did because she excused herself one of those days as having to leave for a heart-to-heart with the archon statue outside the city.
"You're a conman at best, and not even a convincing one at that. How anyone could take you seriously is beyond me—"
Chongyun’s grappling for a response somewhere in his mind, but the only thing that comes up is the the shrill oscillations in the man’s voice that imitate an agitated flame, the accompanying hot moisture of fervent breath against his face, the resulting heat that blooms readily and dizzyingly in his skull, and the jolt of acute chill that shoots through his fingers as they glance subtly over his Vision.
Suffice to say, Chongyun had long given up at making amends, and only had the vague hope of not succumbing to the agitation of hot energy buzzing distractingly underneath his skin, and making it out of this with any shred of dignity.
"—You're a heartless bastard, is what you are."
Chongyun is tremendously relieved at the news that the man, despite how close he had gotten, could not hear the pounding of Chongyun's heart after all.
Chongyun puts up hand to dissuade Xingqiu from interfering.
He bows. "I apologize again that we couldn’t be of more help, we won't bother you anymore."
“You’d sure as hell better not,” the man says, and shoots one last nasty look at him, and then at Xingqiu.
Xingqiu has abandoned his veneer of civility in favor of sticking his tongue out at the door as it slams deafeningly, a hairs width from their faces. Chongyun doesn't so much as flinch. He supposes, much like an archon statue wouldn’t.
He and Xingqiu stay there like that, wordlessly. Chongyun can hear the waterwheel in the nearby distance. His heartbeat has yet to quiet down.
"He didn't even pay," says Xingqiu.
Chongyun's breath escapes him all at once, in a sigh that's more audible than he intends it to be. His shoulders fall from his ears, and he releases his vice grip around his Vision—his hand is numb with cold now—in favor of pinching the bridge of his nose with icy fingers.
"They usually don't," he says.
He turns and starts away from the house. He ducks his head and busies himself with pretending to pat himself down in search of a popsicle: both to avoid the stares of the onlooking residents that have gathered, as well as to buy time for the redness to fade from his face, which he knows from experience is most certaintly there.
"Oh yeah? What about that woman from the other day?" says Xingqiu. Chongyun doesn't mean to look hurried as he leaves, but Xingqiu jogs a little to catch up with him. "She tried to tip you, and you just got all embarrassed. And then you tried to remberse her for the whole job. You would've left without taking anything if I hadn't been there."
"It was embarrassing," Chongyun mutters. He doesn't think his plan to buy time to stop blushing is working. He keeps his head lowered, and Xingqiu falls into step beside him as they start down the cobblestone steps through the stringed latern gate.
"Some nerve," Xingqui says, slapping one of the laterns hanging overhead with a more aggression than necessary, "calling you a crook after leeching off your services for hours and not sparing you a cent. You got rid of his stupid ghost, didn't you?"
Chongyun takes a careful breath in, and then out. "Yeah, well, its not really like they have anyway of telling. It isn't any convential methodology like you would expect; you can't blame them for being disappointed. "
"Sure I can."
Chongyun, in lieu of a response, at last produces his popsicle and sticks it in his mouth lacklusterly. Xingqiu shoots him a look.
“It’s hot out,” says Chongyun.
Xingqiu turns his gaze upwards. Clouds have swathed the skies in gentle grey, enough so that Chongyun has forgone opening up his parasol. It might even rain, he muses.
“Right,” says Xingqiu.
Chongyun does not look at him. He instead stares fixedly ahead at the sunset colored rice fields splayed out before them as they descend. Xingqiu makes a sort of whiny noise, because Xingqiu's relationship to maturity is directly and inextricably tied to how annoyed he is at any given moment.
"You're too uprighteous,” he says. “I told you, you should've let me draw some cryptic squiggles on the wall, or misplace some furniture while the guy’s back was turned. I've been told I have a real knack for dramatics, you know. I could've given him the show he was looking for."
"Or you could've stopped insulting him."
"He was being a difficult old bastard, though. He spent the entire time hovering around like some gnat and shooting nasty looks at us. And he kept accusing you of sleeping!"
Chongyun steps onto the wooden bridge ahead, and water runs and bubbles underfoot. "I was asleep, though."
"And who was he to judge? What does he know about exorcism?"
"Enough to have been expecting his exorcist to do more than fall asleep in a chair while meditating.”
The next drawbridge ahead is narrow, and so Xingqiu bounds slightly ahead of Chongyun. It responds reservedly to the new weight, and the slight sway it gives startles a flurry of birds off into the skies.
“He was just mad because I shushed him,” Xingqiu says.
He’s spun so that he’s walking backwards facing Chongyun, who follows up the steep slope of the bridge with limbs that have become laden now that the excitement has worn off, popsicle hanging sluggishly from his mouth.
“You shushed him like a librarian so you could read your frivolous romance novel,” Chongyun says around the popsicle.
"They're not—That's not the point. I shushed him because he was interefering with the exorcism, just like I told him. And with your sleep. And with my reading. What? C'mon, you had to have been frustrated with him too!"
"I don't get frustrated."
"Oh, right, I forgot. My bad."
Chongyun takes off half his popsicle in one bite. Xingqiu winces.
"It's not like I'm wrong!” he says. “How was he not an intereference?""
"...If anything, increasing my yang energy would make the exorcism more effective."
There’s a trail of pinecones leading down the last bridge, and Xingqiu has taken to kicking each off into the air below one by one as they go along.
"Ohh. So that's your advanced exorcism technique: letting some piece of work drive you up the walls. My bad; I didn't realize it earlier in my novice sensibilities."
"Why did you think I brought you along with me?"
"Why you brought—? Hey!"
"Wait, you guys were serious about the evil spirits?" says a small child's voice.
"Huh?" says Xingqiu. He and Chongyun turn and find a young boy sitting in the grass, right beside the drawbridge they've just stepped off of. He's tracing in the dirt with a stick. He's looking up at them in a way that Chongyun finds personally to be more judgemental than he's confident he can handle .
"You guys come here all the time,” the boy responds, “talking about ghosts and spirits, and I thought you were just some weirdos, writing some stupid book or something—I didn't think you were being serious!"
"Oh, for archon's—Look, kid, what's your deal?” says Xingqiu. “What's your excuse for being a piece of work? And what would you know about writing novels?"
"That's the problem you took up with that comment?" Chongyun asks.
"Yes! My work is renowned. I don't write stupid novels!"
He looks back over to Chongyun for affirmation, but Chongyun suddenly finds himself fascinated with the clouds overhead, and so he never manages to meet his gaze.
"Oh yeah?" says the kid. "What've you written?"
"Ever heard of Legend of the Sword?"
"No."
"..."
"..."
"...Well, it’s a best seller in Inazuma."
"And I'm supposed to believe you? The guy who thinks that ghosts are real? Does it even count if it's just an Inazuma?"
"It's been selling in Fontaine too, you brat—"
Chongyun chews leadenly on the meager remains of his popsicle, and lets the argument ensuing between his acclaimed genius best friend and the child fade into background noise. He watches the waterfall in the distance, and finds upon introspection that he feels surprisingly indifferent to being insulted by a kid. He'd say that it might even sting less than being insulted by adults, which he's primarly accustomed to.
He jumps at the tug on his pant leg.
"Uh, mister...?" Chongyun looks down and find another kid—a girl (where had she come from?)—who's hand is fisted in his pant leg, and who's eyes are averted sheepishly from him.
"Uh—yes?" he says. "What is it?"
Admittedly, Chongyun lack of experience in being insulted by children has little to do with any aptitude for interacting with them, and in fact can be attributed single-handedly to his scarcity in experience with children themselves. This being said, though his subpar socializing skills tend to transcend the age of the people with whom he does so, there’s something about engaging with childern in particular that tends to leave him feeling hopeless and floundering.
Before he can fall too far into panic, he's struck by a realization. "Oh—do you—would like a popsicle? I think I should have another here—"
"Uh… Do you get rid of evil spirits?"
Chongyun pauses his search; this time, his frenzied mind has actually forgotten the unchanging place he keeps his popsicles. "I—Yeah—I mean, yes, that's right."
"So you're an exorcist?"
"Yeah that's—Yes, I am."
"Then..." The girl’s eyes flicker up tentatively to meet his own, even more childlike than he was prepared for. "...you know Adeptus Xiao?"
Chongyun supposes, that if anyone were to ask, his uncertainty around interacting with children can be attributed to his suspicion that dissapointing a child would weigh on him far more heavily than would disappointing any adult—again, the demographic who he most tends to. That on its own felt bad enough, and no adult had ever stared at him like this: with big doe-eyes, filled with hopes that he couldn't possibly fulfill.
He supposes that it could also be because he still hasn't figured out what hide-and-seek is, and he doesn't trust Xingqiu to explain it truthfully to him. His ignorance in this matter raises the question of what else there is that he is insufficiently knowledgeable in regards to, and he feels entirely out of his depth with this in mind.
"Uh... exorcist sir?" says the girl.
Chongyun blinks. Those child eyes are still staring back at him. Ah, that's right. He’s supposed to respond. He can count on his social awareness to inform him of that much, at the very least.
"I—uh," his voice comes out hoarser than he means it to, and he clears his throat roughly. "Sure—I mean, uh—Yes, all exorcists know Adeptus Xi—Uh, know all the adepti, actually, um—Why do you ask?"
She her gaze is downcast once more, to Chongyun's overwhelming relief. "Adeptus Xiao gave my doll back to me, but he dissapeared before I got a chance to thank him."
She's swaying side to side shyly, and—she is clutching a doll, now that she mentions it. Her face then scrunches in some approximation of thoughtfulness.
"I think maybe he doesn't like me," she says.
Chongyun doesn't know what he'll do if she starts crying. He would've dealt with any angry client ten times over, rather than go through whatever this is right now. He's afraid he might start crying himself.
"I—uh, I'm sure thats not true! Adeptus Xiao just always seems a little grumpy like that—that's just how his face is."
"Hmm... I guess he did seem sad..."
Chongyun is no expert at reading people at the best of times, but he can almost confidently say that this girl is feeling nearly half as devastated as he himself is. This interaction is going just as he feared it would from the start: poorly.
He does the only thing he can think to do in the moment.
"I—here, just—would you like a popsicle?"
"Huh?"
"I mean, they're not really that great—" Chongyun scrambles to produce one, decidedly not trying to buy time, "Actually, they taste pretty weird, if I'm honest—but, uh, here!"
He holds it out, breathing slightly quickened, as if retrieving it was some feat of exertion. The girl watches his face for a moment, which he can only asume betrays some degree of deperation. She takes it tentatively from him.
She begins licking it reservedly, and seems somewhat satiated for the moment. Chongyun might pass out from relief, if not from about ten other given things. He himself only has left what amounts basically to a mere popsicle stick. He sticks it back in his mouth, if only to partake with the girl. There’s a rich cacophony of layered bird noises, impressive for their sheer amount.
"You're right," says the girl.
"Huh?"
"It does taste gross."
The wind breezes silently past, and the long grass carrases Chongyun's legs.
"Yeah," he admits, wistfully, "it kind of does."
They’re both watching the waterfall now. Chongyun revels in the absence of conversation, and he takes another intentional breath. The mountain air tastes crisp and cool and soothes his tightening lungs like honey.
"I'll find a way to make Adeptus Xiao smile," says the girl.
It had been too much to hope for that to have been the end of their conversation. Chongyun had been naive. "... I—Yeah,” he says. “I'm sure you will."
Another pause. He waits with some ambivalence this time.
"Exorcist man, do you like me?”
“I—What? I mean, uh—Yes?”
“Really?”
“I—Yes, of course. You’re, uh, very likable—Uh, you seem considerate and thoughtful and—Uh, why?”
“You make the same face Adeptus Xiao did.”
“…”
“…I guess that’s just the way you look too? Is it an exorcist thing?”
“…Exorcism is… very serious business.” Chongyun thinks he might pass out.
It’s a pretty weak response, but the girl seems satisfied.
“Ok, then!” she says. “Thanks, mister popsicle-exorcist-man. I think you’re nice too, even if you do look all icy!”
It takes everything within Chongyun to force his least ever convincing smile onto his face. It feels more akin to a grimace of pain, and he tries to keep it from wavering more than necessary.
Then, they’ve said their goodbyes, and he waves a bit as he watches the girl retreat back towards the village.
“Adeptus Xiao, huh?”
Chongyun jumps. He hadn’t notice Xingqiu come up behind him. The other judgemental kid must’ve gone off as well, while Chongyun was preoccupied.
“Huh?” Chongyun responds.
“All exorcists know him? Sorry—Sorry, for startling you. It was accident—it was!—There’s no need to glare. Just—‘all exorcists know him.’ That was great. I never knew you had it in you, to make up that kind of thing on the spot—
Chongyun starts walking off the other direction.
Xingqiu follows, consumed in his spiel. “Do all the exorcists also get together with Cloud Retainer and—H—hey, what’s going on—“
Chongyun has dropped heavily to sit on the fallen log he’s made his way over to, as if his legs had given out on him, and folds over himself to bury his face in his hands.
“What wrong? It’s not the uh—hot day, is it? I mean, c’mon…”
There’s a new warmth from the consoling hand on his back, and a hot pulsating that churns his gut nauseatingly. His breath stutters out of him.
I don’t know if I ever saw him smile. I wanted to make him smile. I wanted to make him happy. I swore I’d make him happy, I really tried to make him happy—
“That was my last popsicle,“ he says.