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The streets of her city speak of legends, of ghost stories, of rumors exchanged under hushed breaths. Eager, as if the gilded tones of secrets would rain rich fortune upon the shoulders of men, showering them in the sweet promises of jade. The exchange of information, no matter how shrouded in shadow, is a type of contract in itself; one that all are privy to if they choose to listen.
Ningguang keeps her ear to the ground. The children tell her of the new ghosts lurking even beyond their borders: an unknown traveler, appearing seemingly out of thin air in the city of winds, who now makes their way towards the nation of impossible mountains and Mora. The Fatui Harbinger, Tartaglia, who wears a mask named Childe and slinks around Liyue Harbor like a serpent entering Eden, tainting this holy garden of lanterns and rites. The scholars from Sumeru, the wandering troupes of Fontaine, the merchants from Natlan, and how they meet in the crossroads of the ports of Liyue, ever privy to her watchful eye and sharp ears.
But loudest of all, the children speak of Beidou, her travels west. The might of her sword, the force of nature. Her ship as it rides into shore like a legion coming home from war.
On top of the Jade Chamber, in the throne suspended among the clouds, Ningguang can make out the horizons of infinity. The ocean, stretching onwards. If she closes her eyes she too can imagine she is on an odyssey, the salt of the sea kissing her skin as she travels far away to lands unknown.
Yet even as the heavens shift around her palace she knows she belongs here in Liyue. Duty calls, and as Tianquan she is bound by the contract of the north star. Anchoring her to the sky.
-
The first time Ningguang meets Beidou, it is at the newly budding Wanmin Restaurant. Ningguang has heard of a young chef named Xiangling who has been trying to start a business with her father, but with the competition with the grandeur cuisine of Liuli Pavilion and the street stalls full of fried radish balls and other quick eats, it’s been difficult for a small family to establish themselves in the Liyue restaurant scene. Ningguang has sought to personally evaluate whether Xiangling is worthy of an investment from the Qixing.
“Ah, ma’am,” Xiangling stammers, clearly shocked as Ningguang approaches the restaurant. It seems as though Xiangling and her father have designated their front porch as their location, shabby wooden shingles and all. The smell of chilis and oil waft in the air, and Ningguang can distinctly smell the scent of flash-fried fish and simmering peppercorns. “To what do we deserve the pleasure?”
“Just seeking out a change in my usual meal,” Ningguang says with a smile, gentle. Then, sweet as the white lies of business should, she continues, “I’ve heard promising things about this place, Xiangling.”
“Really?” Xiangling chirps, bright. “What can we make for you? Special requests?”
“Whatever you would recommend to any other customer, dear.”
“Then,” Xiangling says, grinning, “Wanmin’s special boiled fish, coming right up!”
Xiangling scrambles to the kitchen, hastily grabbing leeks and garlic from her pantry. Ningguang surveys the establishment — again, shabby, clearly improvised, and takes a seat at the counter next to what seems to be the only patron present. She wears red, her qipao splitting up her thigh with a faux collar at her neck, a ribbon slung around her eye and tied into a butterfly knot on her head.
“She’s got promise, that one,” the patron says, sipping at a flask of what Ningguang can only assume to be alcohol. “This is the only place in Liyue Harbor that can do spicy food right.”
“Oh?” Ningguang hums. “Perhaps you’ve never tried Xinyue Kiosk’s hotpot. Delightfully numbing, that one.”
“I said what I said,” she replies bluntly. “Their hotpot is watery.”
Ningguang smiles. Keqing had personally invested Qixing funds into Xinyue Kiosk — quite a large sum, at that. “I’ll make sure to let them know.”
“So you’re really Ningguang,” she says, grinning toothily after swallowing a gulp of her drink. “Not everyday you get to sit next to the Tianquan for dinner. I’m Beidou.”
“I know,” Ningguang says. “Captain of the Crux Fleet. It’s not everyday that I am able to sit next to such an illustrious sailor either. Usually they are at sea. I’ve heard much about you as well.”
“Even I need a break sometimes,” Beidou laughs. “You really hear that much about me?”
“But of course. Every time your ship docks into the harbor it’s like a festival of sorts. People are eager to hear your stories, and eager to share them.”
“Bah,” Beidou dismisses, waving a hand in the air. “Don’t listen to them. I think people are still obsessed with the sea monster ordeal. It wasn’t such a big deal.”
“You mean you didn’t really slice a hydra’s three necks off with one strike? My, that’s disappointing.”
“Well, yeah, of course I did,” Beidou says. “But I mean, we deal with that kinda shit all the time. It was just a big one.”
Hurrying over with a hearty bowl of fish, Xiangling sets down a fiery red concoction of aromatics in front of Ningguang, before sliding a bowl of fresh fluffy rice next to it. “Enjoy, ma’am!”
“Thank you, Xiangling,” Ningguang says earnestly. She leans in to take a whiff — as Beidou hinted, the dish seemed burning hot with spice, the soup a pool of deep red. The scent is so piercingly sharp that Ningguang has to refrain herself from shamelessly sneezing over the food. She spoons a bite into her mouth, letting the flavors sit on her tongue.
“Good?” Beidou asks next to her, watching.
“Yes,” Ningguang says honestly. Surprisingly, yes. “Perhaps you were right, and Xiangling’s food beats out Xinyue’s Kiosk’s hotpot.”
“See,” Beidou says, snickering, Then, she shouts, “Xiangling!”
“Yes?” the chef says, scurrying over. She fidgets where she stands, as if nervously anticipating Ningguang's verdict.
“Sail with me. You can cook for the ship and look for foreign ingredients abroad. We could definitely use good food when we’re on the boat.”
“Wh—” Xiangling stammers. “But I just opened this restaurant! And my father—”
“Your father will be fine,” Beidou cuts off. “Ningguang will help him build the business here, and you can develop new recipes when you’re with me.”
Ningguang freezes. Stills for a moment, her spoon clinking on her bowl. “Excuse me?”
“What, don’t act like that’s not why you’re here. You wanted to suss out the restaurant to see if it was worth your time and money. You’re the Tianquan after all.”
Ningguang forces herself not to grimace, forces herself not to feel offended at the audacity of this sailor, blundering around offering money that isn’t hers. Then, with a smile, she says cooly, “I don’t remember offering to do such a thing.”
Xiangling deflates. “Ah, Beidou, in that case—”
“Oh, please,” Beidou snaps, “I’ll sponsor her trip abroad and pay her a good sum. You can take the time to develop Wanmin. It’s good for the city. You can’t really tell me you’re content with eating the fancy shit at Liuli or hastily scarfing down fried food on the street when you can’t get a fucking reservation there. At the very least, most people wouldn’t be. I don’t know, maybe you have special privileges, being the Tianquan and all.”
Ningguang does, but that certainly isn’t the point. Beidou, somehow, in the minutes of knowing each other, has pinned her down and held her own wealth hostage at the mercy of this young girl-chef, waiting for her culinary dreams to come true. It’s an unfortunate situation — Ningguang may be heartless in the affairs of business, but that was with grown men, often attempting to haggle for a deal that she won’t take. Ningguang looks around at the worn-down front porch of Xiangling’s makeshift restaurant, then down at the delicious fish she’s taken a few bites of. Sighs to herself heavily. “Perhaps that’s a good idea,” she relents. “You may speak to your father about this, and we can arrange a meeting in the coming weeks.”
“Really?” Xiangling says, practically vibrating with excitement. “Thank you so, so much, ma’am! We’ll be indebted to you forever— wait, let me tell him right now—”
Xiangling runs over to her front door, her steps loud as she rushes up the front porch in her house.
“You know, you’re not as ruthless as they say,” Beidou says calmly next to her, as if she hadn’t just forced Ningguang’s wallet at her will. “I was expecting you to crush her.”
Ningguang’s eyes slid over to Beidou. She’s sipping at her drink again, watchful, an eye of crimson looking back at her. “I must echo what you said to me earlier.”
“What, don’t listen what people to say about you? That’s a given. People say a lot of conflicting things about you. That was something I came up with on my own.”
“Hm,” Ningguang says, a bit more petulantly than she would like, turning her attention back to her food.
“With all the money you have,” Beidou continues, “you can singlehandedly make every poor person rich in this country. Instead, you make a floating castle in the sky. And you keep making it bigger, too. Pardon me if I think you’re a bit heartless.”
“My wealth is my own, and it is hard earned,” Ningguang says icily, an unknown rage bubbling in her stomach. “You are treading on very dangerous waters, Beidou.”
“Yeah,” Beidou sniggers. “It’s what I do. Besides, you were going to invest in this restaurant anyway. Might as well make the girl happy.” She stands from her stool at the counter, leaving a healthy helping of mora on the table as payment for the meal. “See you around, Tianquan. It was nice meeting you.”
“Pleasure,” she lies politely. Watches as Beidou walks away into the glowing sunset, the rays of the sun illuminating her form as she strides.
Quietly as so no one can hear, Ningguang hisses, “Fuck.”
-
The second time it’s at the Jade Chamber.
“Nice place you got,” Beidou says, scanning every piece of gilded furniture in her study, as if Beidou is three seconds away from plundering the wealth of the palace with her and stealing it away to the seas where Ningguang can’t chase her. Ningguang imagines that even with her swiftest ship her sailors wouldn’t hold a candle to Beidou’s mastery of the water. “How much does this place cost, anyway?”
Ningguang ignores the blatant jab at her opulence, their last conversation still swimming in her mind: Beidou’s accusations of Ningguang’s selfishness of hoarding her Mora. “You must understand what smuggling goods into Liyue Harbor means for you, Beidou.”
“I didn’t realize you played judge too, Ning. Seems more like Keqing’s thing.”
Ningguang raises an eyebrow. Ning? The audacity of this sailor, sitting in the Jade Chamber with a bounty of fines on her head, calling her a nickname on their second meeting. If Ningguang wasn’t so irritated, she would be impressed. “My duties as Tianquan encompasses many responsibilities. Including fining you for three million Mora.”
Beidou’s jaw nearly drops to the floor. “Three million— ”
“Your smuggling,” Ningguang chimes in, chest full of blooming glee, “has consequences, Beidou. You can’t run from the law.”
Beidou’s eyes flicker around the room as Ningguang watches her carefully. “Maybe so,” she says slowly, “but perhaps I can strike a deal with you?”
Ningguang narrows her eyes as Beidou approaches the chess set on her table at the side of her study, motioning to the two seats across from each other.
“You want,” Ningguang says slowly, “to gamble off your debt with a game of chess.”
“If you’re that good as they say, you wouldn’t even balk at this. Win and I’ll pay up with interest. Lose and you let me go scot-free.”
Ningguang considers the chess board. She is undefeated, after all. “Any other conditions?”
“None of that weird spin-off of chess that you’ve made up. I don’t know the rules to that. Wouldn’t be fair.”
Ningguang’s a bit surprised that Beidou even knows about Liyue Millennial. She supposes the game set is quite popular in the stores, even though no one knows exactly how to play it. She looks upon her chess board again, Beidou already seated in front of the black side of the board. “You’re offering me the first move? That’s quite bold of you.”
“I wanna see what you do,” Beidou says, gesturing at the empty seat across from her. “C’mon. What do you have to lose? Three million is pennies to you.”
Ningguang can’t shake the feeling of danger off, as if Beidou is deliberately taunting her into some sort of elaborate trap, like a fish to a net. Still, though, Ningguang is a prideful creature if nothing else, and her winning record speaks volumes on her capability in this mental game of strategy. “Alright, then.”
She takes a seat across from Beidou. Beidou’s gaze is trained on her, intent, as Ningguang moves her pawn up two squares.
“Why’d you build this place, anyway?”
Beidou moves her pawn up in response to the square directly across from Ningguang’s.
“Trying to distract me, Beidou?”
Ningguang picks up her bishop and places it in the center of the board.
“Genuine question. Couldn’t you have bought a nice house or something? I’ve seen the construction at the perimeter. You just keep making this place bigger.”
Beidou nudges another pawn forward.
“Wealth is a wonderful thing. You know this, as a sailor on a journey for riches, no? The Jade Chamber is a testament to the wealth I’ve amassed. It is proof of my work.”
Ningguang moves another pawn.
“You think making a castle in the sky is going to bring you happiness? Go travel or something. Fontaine makes great pastries.”
Beidou jumps a knight over a few pieces.
“I cannot just leave, Beidou. I am Tianquan.”
Ningguang takes the knight with her pawn, collecting the piece and setting it gently to the side.
“Where’s your sense of adventure? Don’t you ever get bored striking the same business deals over and over again?”
Beidou moves a bishop, cutting it diagonally across the squares.
“I enjoy doing business. It’s a game that I always win.”
Ningguang places her own knight on the board.
“Maybe something you need to do is lose for once.”
“Are you saying that you will be the one to defeat me, Beidou?”
Beidou smirks. “Could be.”
Ningguang castles, scooting her King piece around with her rook.
“I’ll welcome defeat if it comes. There’s a lesson to be learned from it, I’m sure.”
“Glad to know you have a good attitude.”
Beidou moves her queen up to the center, taking Ningguang’s bishop. Ningguang purses her lips.
“But seriously,” Beidou says, “you don’t get tired of the musty ass men who try to persuade you into weird contracts?”
“Of course I do. They do always underestimate me, as the most powerful person in Liyue. It just so happens that I am a woman, and they can’t fathom how a woman has ended up as Tianquan.”
“We’ve got one similarity, then,” Beidou murmurs, moving a piece. “Men who don’t know me often think that I’m not fit to be captain. Then I show them my sword.”
She grins toothily, sharp like the blade she must adorn on her back when she goes to battle. Ningguang moves a piece in turn.
“Brute force. Seems oddly fitting for you.”
“I love my men, but certainly I don’t love men."
The implication is not lost on Ningguang. She lifts her attention off the board and redirects it to Beidou, who stares at her meaningfully with her uncovered eye. It glints like a hardened ruby, the golden light of the chamber refracting into her iris like a blood blossom.
Then, beyond herself, Ningguang replies softly, “Another similarity, then.”
And then she immediately curses herself for revealing such priceless information.
Beidou, for her part, doesn’t show any shock on her face; she merely sits back, leveling her gaze at Ningguang lowly, a small smile on her lips. Ningguang watches as Beidou licks her lips, a brief peek of her tongue, blush pink, gliding over the edges of her mouth slowly as Beidou returns her attention to the chess board.
“Check,” Beidou says.
Ningguang stares at the board. Moves her rook to the right three spaces.
“You’re nothing like I imagined you to be,” Beidou continues. “I imagined a scary lady ruling Liyue with an iron fist. Instead you eat Xiangling’s insanely spicy fish and give candy to little kids. Obviously with ulterior motive, but still.”
“On the contrary,” Ningguang says, feeling the corner of her lips quirk up, “you are everything I imagined you to be.”
“And that would be?”
“Bold. Reckless. Arrogant.”
“Hurtful words, those.”
“Are they not the truth?” Ningguang moves her bishop. “Check.”
“I would’ve preferred something a bit more positive,” Beidou teases, before nudging her king over one square. “Confident. Or something.”
Ningguang chuckles. “Certainly you are that.”
“My confidence isn’t without grounds, though.” Beidou gestures down at the board with a point of a finger. “See.”
Ningguang follows the trail of Beidou’s fingers down to the black and white squares of the game, scanning the pieces before realizing—
“Checkmate,” Beidou whispers, leaning in over the board, impossibly close to Ningguang’s ear. The sound of her words feel like sinful wind, warm air like touch as Beidou speaks. “Do you welcome defeat?”
Ningguang swallows. Steels herself. Tries to not let the heat of Beidou’s mouth, inches away from her, distract her too much. “Checkmating me with your king? That’s quite arrogant of you, no?”
“A captain is nothing if she doesn’t lead the victory,” Beidou says. She draws back and away, and Ningguang relaxes a little in her seat. Only for a moment, because Beidou continues, “Guess that means you won’t fine me millions of Mora today. Better luck next time.”
Ningguang rises out of her seat, rolling her shoulders back, suppressing the reeling confusion of defeat. She takes a deep breath. “A deal is a deal, I suppose.”
“Such is the way of the land of contracts.” Beidou stands up as well, flicking her hair over her shoulder and flashing a smile. “You looking for a rematch anytime soon?”
“I have other matters to attend to,” Ningguang says, calm tone belying the tenseness she feels in her throat. “But perhaps.”
“Good game, Ning.” Beidou turns to leave, but not before giving Ningguang a glance over her shoulder, a smirk. “I’ll be seeing you.”
Beidou’s boots click on the marble tile of the Jade Chamber, little beats, steps of victory in her wake as she sees herself out the door. Ningguang observes her as she leaves, the heavy doors of the palace slamming shut behind her as she exits. Beidou’s body shrouded in shadow, backlit from the sunlight of the heights, her form like a tattoo on the shimmering walls of the palace.
Ningguang swallows. She fetches her pipe and lights it, breathing out a puff of smoke, eyes following how the clouds of bittersweet tobacco dissipate into the air. She shuts her eyes, and even still Ningguang can feel the lingering breath on her ear, the deep tones of Beidou’s voice almost like lithe fingers on her neck, the sound trailing down her throat and raising bumps on her skin. As if the irresistible siren of the sea breeze is calling out to her, come catch me if you can.
-
The third time, Beidou leaves a note with Ganyu. The calligraphy of her words stroke a bold, brief message on a small strip of yellowed rice paper: Bamboo Grove, Qingce Village, nightfall.
Ningguang tells Ganyu that she’ll be out for the night on an important business meeting, and makes her way to the viridian forest of bamboo stalks east of Qingce.
Beidou’s at a small stone table nestled in a natural alcove by a waterfall, a platter of pastries, pale pink and ice blue, laid out on an antique porcelain plate. Ningguang can smell the fragrant, woody musk of tieguanyin oolong as well, brewed in a small clay teapot next to the desserts.
“Tianquans sure take their time,” Beidou says, lifting a small cup to her lips. It doesn’t hide her smile. “Come, the tea’s getting cold.”
Ningguang takes the stone stool across from her, and levels a look at Beidou. She’s sunkissed, the salt of the ocean still interwoven in her hair, slightly mussed from the weeks, months of travel she must have just returned from. There’s a new scratch on her arm, bound by bandage.
“These are from Fontaine. They’re called macarons,” Beidou explains, nudging the plate towards Ningguang’s direction. Ningguang picks up a cookie, examining the sandwich-like design, before gingerly taking a small bite out of the sweet. The texture is soft, light, and tastes a bit like sugared roses, perfumed and delicate. “You can’t travel, so I figured I’d bring a bit of the outside world back to you.”
“It’s not that I’m chained to Liyue, Beidou. I do travel for business purposes on occasion.” Still, though, the gesture was oddly thoughtful, and Ningguang relishes the foreign delicacy, and imagines that she’s leisurely strolling along the cobbled streets of Fontaine, fairy lights in the street lamps around her at night. “To what do I deserve the pleasure?”
“Straight to business, I see. Well,” Beidou pauses. “The Crux needs your help.”
Ningguang lifts an eyebrow. “My help?”
“I’m thinking we can strike a deal,” Beidou suggests, leaning in. “You deal with pesky smugglers all the time, don’t you?”
“Aren’t you one of them?” Ningguang points out.
“Cheeky,” Beidou says. “Anyway, we deal with them too. We actually deal with probably half of the smugglers before they get to Liyue Harbor.”
Ningguang frowns — that was a generous estimate. She would probably wager to be something about thirty five percent. “Go on.”
“Well… to put it bluntly, we need Mora.”
Ningguang reaches for her cup of oolong, blowing away at the steam before taking a sip. “For what, exactly?”
“The ship took a bit of a beating this time around. I’d like some money to fund the repairs. If you do that, I’ll go out of my way to deal with every smuggler ship I can find. Usually we only take care of it when we run into them.”
“So eager to do my dirty work, then?” Ningguang says, finishing the macaron. Her fingers itch for another, but she refrains, drinking her tea instead. “I’ll give you Mora if only you give me a cut of your own treasure.”
Beidou sighs, as if she expected this. “How much?”
“Mm.. twenty percent?”
“Twenty? Sheesh, Ning. How about ten?”
The sound of the nickname settles down Ningguang’s spine, lilting, teasing. “Eighteen or no deal.”
“Fuck,” Beidou groans. Then, with a dashingly charming smirk, she asks, “Rematch to settle?”
“Absolutely not,” Ningguang denies. The taste of defeat is still bitter on her tongue, as the memory of Beidou’s haughty, victorious whispers in her ear still floods her mind. “You’re the one asking me for my Mora.”
“Afraid to lose again?”
Ningguang tenses. Stares at Beidou, who is leaning over the too-small table, her visible eye lidded and dark with something indescribable, something Ningguang is too apprehensive to put a name to. She swallows, the rose in her throat dissolving into something hotter: desire, or frustration, or a mix of the two, curling in her body like silk lilies in bloom. She opts for the latter, since the other terrifies her, the sleepy want in her stomach threatening to wake, uncontrollable.
“You are infuriating,” Ningguang says, clenching her teeth.
“I know,” Beidou says, smirking. Then, boldly as Beidou does, she reaches her arm under the table and slides her hand down the curve of Ningguang’s waist, fingers lingering at her hip like the slow slick tide of waves, rushing water. “It’s why you like me.”
Instinctively, Ningguang grabs at Beidou’s wrist. Doesn’t even think about the way her fingers clasp around the bone, like a perfect circle, like an infinite loop of touch. “And whatever gave you that idea?”
“You came out to see me in the middle of the night.”
She narrows her eyes. “I knew you were going to offer me a business proposal. One that is beneficial to me.”
“You ate the macarons. They could’ve been poisoned.”
“Even you aren’t so stupid as to poison the Tianquan of the Liyue Qixing.”
“Maybe so.” Beidou’s hand pulls away, and Ningguang lets her go as Beidou draws back and smirks. “I don’t hear you denying it, though.”
Lest she does something regrettable and digs herself a deeper hole, Ningguang rises from her seat. “Ganyu will draft and send a contract to you in the coming days. Ten million mora.”
“Knew you would come around.”
“I could have you killed, you know,” Ningguang coos, sweetly.
“But you won’t,” Beidou challenges, and it’s just that: checkmate.
Ningguang turns around and walks down the path, the winding road through the bamboo grove. In her mind she imagines the chess board of the forest: two kings across from each other, Beidou’s blade to her throat as she declares her victory. Ningguang, helpless to act, shackled to defeat, carried away by the thunderstorm that is this force of nature, this captain, the unstoppable woman.
She doesn’t look back.
-
The next time they meet it’s like ships in the night, passing by in the streets of Liyue. Ningguang is chatting with the trio of children who always play in the abandoned boat on the harbor when Beidou, a flash of red, pats Little Fei on the head and drops a bag of wagashi from Inazuma in his hands.
Ningguang watches as Beidou strolls away, but not before Beidou glances over her shoulder and gives her a wide, knowing smile. As if the two of them have suspended secrets in the silence and distance between them, only revealed by one slow blink that says more than words could ever fathom.
The time after that:
-
Beidou has scars littered on her body like a graveyard of swords, a library of her battles at sea. She’s got a fresh cut up the line of her thigh, the scab barely starting to heal, an imperfect marr on the milky skin. Ningguang traces a finger up the wound, feeling the tremble of Beidou’s legs under her touch. Like an earthquake, a shockwave, Beidou shivers as Ningguang’s hands travel distances across the map of her body, this unknowable world of desire.
Beidou makes her way down the curve of Ningguang’s hips, mouth tracing bone, tongue parting lips. Fingers searching for a lifeline and finding the space in between Ningguang’s thighs. The slow drag of bodies, the way Beidou hums on her skin, loosen up, Ning.
Ningguang too, like this, feels lost at sea, looking up at the north star to find her way home; in the sky she finds a woman in the galaxies, out of reach. Always moving, in an untraceable orbit, and Ningguang feels like she is searching in the vast celestial waters for a boat always sailing away, gravities unbound. Still, she looks for infinity in the way Beidou arches her back like a curve in a star’s path. A parabola of pleasure.
In after what feels like a lifetime paused in a moment, in the forever of ocean depths, Beidou murmurs, “Come to the sea with me,” and Ningguang only hesitates for a sliver of a second before replying, “Perhaps one day.”
When Beidou smiles it’s like a supernova caving in on itself in the cavity of Ningguang’s chest. Burning bright with the weight of hope.
“It’s a promise, then.”