nanliujing



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  1. Public Bookmark *

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    The whole incongruity of the situation would have been entertaining if he weren’t on the receiving end of it: the two of them standing in the entrance of his apartment, Zhongli soaking wet from the storm and ruining the carpet, presenting him with an exquisite wooden box in which sits an even more expensive-looking gold band adorned with a single noctilucous jade.

    Truth be told, Ajax is less surprised by the ring itself than the fact that he didn’t pay for it.


    Zhongli proposes to Childe the night before he departs for Snezhnaya.

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    13 Jul 2026

  2. Public Bookmark 59

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    After 6000 years of being an archon, it's hard to remember to take care of your body when you've never had to before

    or
    Zhongli gets sick and Childe has to take care of him

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    12 Jul 2026

  3. Public Bookmark *

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    Beautiful things are often fragile. 

    Yet Tartaglia sweeps across the battlefield like a crashing tide. With the sapphire blue blade in his hands slicing through flesh and bones, spilling blood and painting his form with dark ichor. Every motion deserves to be captured into eternity, each movement of his fingers and twist of his body, a picture that speaks a thousand words.

    Tartaglia is mesmerizing, enthralling those who witness the destruction in his wake; his subordinates, poor passerbys or even the monsters he killed. Truly, his enemies are fortunate that their last moment is absolutely captivating.

    Morax understands why Tsaritsa had taken this mortal under her wings. Gods covet beautiful things and the Cryo Archon had snatched a raw, sparkling gem; uncut yet blinding.

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    12 Jul 2026

  4. Public Bookmark *

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    Zhongli hates the sea, tolerates the sun, and loves Childe.

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    10 Jul 2026

  5. Public Bookmark *

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    There comes a moment in every dragon’s unnaturally long life where they decide, against all wisdom, against millennia of stoic solitude, against the soft hiss of slumbering tectonic plates that beg do not, do not, do not—
    to fall in love.

    Zhongli has already lived through three mortal epochs and a dozen minor heartbreaks, a handful of cataclysmic betrayals, and once, a rather distressing culinary incident involving Sumeru spices and a brass teapot. He has watched civilizations rise and crumble like sandcastles abandoned by impatient gods. He has kissed emperors with ash still cooling in their mouths. He has forgotten entire dialects of love.

    But this one—

    Tartaglia. The Eleventh Harbinger. Fatui dog. That insufferable ginger menace who insists on calling him “xiansheng” while disarming hilichurls with a grin that belongs on wanted posters and in back-alley sonnets.

    This one, Zhongli decides, is worth the return of rituals.

    In which Zhongli confuses “romantic gestures” with “terrifying declarations of eternal possession,” and Childe is into it anyway.

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    29 Jun 2026