Chapter Text
Xiao stares at the ceiling with bloodshot eyes, on the verge of madness from lack of sleep because his neighbours have been fucking all. Damn. Night.
As if that isn’t enough, his flatmates have recently been making it their mission to make Xiao’s life as much of a misery as possible. They know he’s the only one with a job to go to in the morning, but they keep doing it, and that's what's driving Xiao up the wall. Hu Tao starts her gaming livestreams at 3am because "most of her audience is active then", even though she has a hundred followers, at a push. In fact, that might even be a bit generous. But apparently 10,000 mora to play a horror game and maybe show her feet to the camera if someone asks is 10,000 mora nonetheless. It’s more than Xiao makes for just over 14 deliveries minus tips, a realisation that makes Xiao weep quietly into his hands more often than he’d like to admit.
Xinyan likes to play her guitar quite late into the night as well, amp blaring and making the entire apartment block shudder so that rubble falls from the ceiling. One time, a chunk of plaster hit Xiao in the face in his sleep and it almost took his eye out.
Chongyun is the only flatmate who seems to respect the need for quiet, but Xiao has still managed to find him wandering the flat in the dark at ridiculous hours and consequently scaring the absolute living crap out of Xiao. Only the night before did Xiao open his bedroom door, about to knock on Hu Tao’s door and ask her to shut the everlasting fuck up, and stopped to see Chongyun just stood there in the middle of the flat. Watching. Listening.
So Xiao shut the door and decided to go back to bed, not wanting to even know the reason.
This morning, Xiao sees Chongyun scouring the wall and knocking on it with his knuckles, rapping a few times and listening, then moving along. Xiao doesn’t even ask, because Chongyun will only insist he’s looking for spirit activity - even though Xiao is quite certain that the “spirit activity” he can hear is the neighbour ploughing his latest catch into the ground. Xinyan is asleep still, probably exhausted from her night of keeping Xiao awake with her guitar, and Hu Tao is still awake because the bitch is practically nocturnal at this rate.
Xiao goes to pour out some cereal, but Hu Tao has taken the new box, so he is left with the stale crumbs at the bottom of the old one. He tips the cereal dust and two hoops out into a bowl, and realises too late that there’s no milk. Chongyun taps on the wall again, frowns, and writes something down in his notebook.
Coffee it is. Xiao tosses the bowl and takes a mouthful of the lukewarm black liquid, pushing Chongyun’s hastily written notes and battered ouija board to the side of the overflowing table so he has a space to rest his elbows, already falling asleep on his hands.
“Good morning, besties.” Hu Tao yawns, stumbling past Chongyun and Xiao, taking Xiao’s mug out of his loose hands, tipping the rest of it down her throat. Xiao does not have the energy to argue, mumbling into his arms where he’s leant on the table.
Don’t bestie me, Xiao wants to spit, full of tense anger from lack of sleep, but the only thing that leaves his mouth is a strained squeak of pain. He feels like if he tries to open his eyes again he will simply pass out.
“Find anything yet, Yun-yun?” Hu Tao says to Chongyun, who only stays silent, repinning an arrangement of photos and red string stretched across the wall and destroying the drywall with pin marks in the process. Xiao swears he’ll move out before the landlord kicks them out and forces them to pay for the entire flat to be replastered. Hu Tao stands there awkwardly for a few seconds, waiting for a response from Chongyun, but realises she won’t get one and ends up patting him on the back. “You go, dude. I believe in you. Hey, Xiao!”
Archons save me, Xiao thinks to himself, sluggish from lack of sleep, and Hu Tao’s fingers work into his hair, lazily pawing out the tangles from his restless tossing and turning.
“Didja sleep well?” Hu Tao asks, still sipping on Xiao’s drink.
You sure as fuck know I didn’t. Xiao has a biting response lined up, but his jaw has officially disconnected from his brain and he only groans into the table again.
“I need to check your room.” Chongyun suddenly says to Hu Tao, who sips loudly on Xiao’s coffee.
“You do that, babe.” Hu Tao responds, eyes tracking over the other young man as he puts on his headphones and disappears into the hallway. “I hope he finds something. I’m convinced something keeps moving my shit and I’m pretty certain it’s not me. Or maybe it could be, I’m only sixty percent sure really -”
“Hu Tao. Please.” Xiao rasps, her voice grating into his ears, fresh as a daisy as if she wasn’t terrorising the neighbourhood with her loud livestreaming only a mere three hours ago.
“Okay, okay. You need to get ready for work. Just make sure you get to the shower before Chongyun decides to install motion activated cameras.” Hu Tao says, and by the tone of her voice, Xiao seriously can’t tell whether she’s joking or not.
So Xiao does, and after a quick check for ghost hunting cameras (Xiao is paranoid, okay?), he showers with freezing water, hoping it’ll wake him up, but it only makes him cold and exhausted instead of just exhausted. He wraps himself up in a towel, rummaging through his closet, and picks up some scrappy running leggings and a shirt that doesn’t smell too bad. The washing machine is still full of laundry from three days ago because nobody else will hang it up, and it’ll most likely fall to Xiao. Again.
Xiao throws on his LiyueEats jacket, grabs his cooler backpack and helmet, and wrestles his bike out of the front door because he doesn’t trust the neighbours enough to leave it outside.
As he swears and knocks around plant pots trying to maneuver the back wheel out the door, he notices movement from the flat next door. Disturbed by the noise of Xiao breaking the plant pots with his bike, Xiao recognises the dark hair of the absolutely insufferable guy who owns the flat. Actually, the whole block of flats. He’s Xiao’s landlord. Archons. The mere idea that all of the measly coins he earns from tips going straight back into this asshole’s pocket is enough to prompt a bout of sickness into Xiao’s mouth, which he swallows again.
“Alright over there?” Scaramouche calls, looking pristine in his nightgown, like he hasn’t been the one responsible for Xiao on the verge of dying from lack of sleep,
No, actually, Xiao seethes, abandoning the bike to storm right over to the bastard and demand he please for the love of archons keep it down, when suddenly another person appears around Scaramouche’s shoulder, and the smell of beautiful, fresh breakfast hits Xiao’s nose. He feels his mouth water and gulps, twisting his face back into a scowl again.
“Good morning.” Kazuha says politely, and Xiao curls his fingers into fists, his biking gloves stopping his nails from breaking the skin of his palms.
“M - morning -” Archons, Xiao can’t be rude to him, he’s too polite. Xiao doesn’t actually know what the situation between the two is. Are they actually together or just fuck buddies? Kazuha can do so much better than this piece of shit. There has to be more to it. “Could you guys - just - shit, man - just -”
“Sorry about the noise. It won’t happen again.” Kazuha says, his white hair loose over his shoulders, and Xiao internally sags. Yes it will, you promise this every time - “Would you like some food? I made way too much.”
He offers out a box of what Xiao recognises to be traditional Iwazumanese breakfast foods: mixed rice with uni, eggs with furikake, grilled fish, pickled vegetable salad. Xiao wants to slap the stupid stuff out of his hands but at the same time his stomach growls, already rejecting the watery three mouthfuls of coffee he’d had before Hu Tao stole it.
“I have some more for your flatmates -” Kazuha adds, withdrawing a couple of boxes of more amazing smelling food. No way does Xiao want to be bought off so easily, but he’s so hungry. He makes a decision and snatches the food off him, shovelling most of one box into his mouth immediately, keeping a scowl on his face to show he’s still angry with them. He drops the other food into his side bags on the bike to have for lunch, because no way is he going to give them to his flatmates.
“Did you pay rent this month?” Scaramouche asks, ruining the moment as always, and Xiao feels the rice turn in his belly. He rudenly pushes the stuff he’s eating back into Scaramouche’s hands, making sure to get some sauce down his front. “It’s going up a few thousand mora starting next Tuesday -”
“What?! You can’t do that -” Xiao suddenly starts spitting, and Kazuha, suddenly alarmed by the aggression, ushers the other back into the flat.
“You’ll get the notice at some point. Sorry again.” Kazuha says shortly, something apologetic on his gaze, and bows before shutting the door and Xiao is left seething on the doorstep with the realisation weighing on him as much as the hastily scoffed breakfast pulling down his stomach.
Shit. Shit.
The others aren’t paying their portion of the rent as it is. If the rent goes up, Xiao can’t possibly cover for all of them. Not with his shitty job. The rent never sees any of the money Hu Tao seems to get from her streams, Chongyun spends more time looking for spirits than looking for a job, and Xiao could honestly wail out loud in despair.
But that would make him look like a lunatic, so he chokes it down, and works his bike down the stairs, praying the rust bucket won’t fall apart on the way down. All he can do is keep taking the most expensive orders and farthest away and hope they give him tips the faster he gets there.
Xiao’s phone beeps, and his first order has arrived. Someone doesn’t want to make breakfast, so it’s up to Xiao to get their pancakes to them as quick as his piece of shit bike will let him.
Xiao hops up on the saddle, his huge cooler backpack weighing him down, even empty, and skids outside the waffle house, calling his order number out to the people behind the counter who look even more tired than he does, which is no consolation. Poor people all under the same oppression weighing them down and keeping them in terrible zero hour contracts with no rights or livable wage.
The box of pancakes is passed to him, Xiao zips them into his backpack, leaps onto his bike and he’s off, panting as he fights with the pedals and gears. He weaves around vehicles, battles through traffic, illegally undertakes large trucks with the very possible risk of being squashed to the sidewalk, and gets to the address in seven minutes.
After taking a few seconds to catch his breath, Xiao gets off the bike, takes the box out of his bag, and knocks on the door. The man opens the door, snatches the box, mutters about how long it took, and slams it in Xiao’s face. He doesn’t give him a tip.
Xiao stares at the door for a second longer. The front room of the house is bigger than the entire apartment that he shares with three other people. That same green, coveting envy wracks his insides. Back on the bike, he tells himself, turning around and dragging his feet in tense rage as he leaves the front garden, and one day he’ll have his own place where he’ll be able to sleep a full night and maybe have enough spare money to have someone bring him his own pancakes.
It’ll happen. He just needs to keep working for it.
His chest is tight, and he blames it on exertion from rushing over here.
Xiao picks up more food, fingers tight around the handlebars as he leans forward, counteracting the weight on his back. The road through the centre of Liyue Harbour clears out momentarily, so he takes a few seconds to let out a loud exhale to try and clear his airways. The pure sickness at feeling like this is all he is good for, all he is going to do in his life, descends like a shadow, and as much as he tries to focus on the road, it won’t dispel.
He looks up, and sees the huge billboard towering over the city. It flickers, changing to an advertisement for Mondstadtian designer watches, and Xiao scowls at the slender model in his sleek suit and gold watch that probably would cover Xiao’s rent ten times over. His heart thuds.
“What are you staring at?” Xiao spits up at it, and the model on the billboard obviously doesn’t answer, because it is a billboard and not a real person. He stares back aggressively at the board for a second longer before he has to swerve to avoid ending up across someone’s bonnet.
“Promise we’ll be friends forever, okay?”
“I promise. No matter what.”
“You’re a liar.” Xiao growls, and then the billboard flicks back to another advertisement, so Xiao focuses on following the map to his next delivery destination.
As much as he tries to avoid it, that model is plastered literally everywhere. It’s like Liyue can’t possibly get enough of the watches and perfume and clothing that the City of Wind can offer them. Mondstadt has been getting progressively richer and by default so has Liyue, and now the super-wealthy want everything they can get their gold lined palms on whilst people like Xiao rot in shitty roach infested apartments.
Xiao drops off several more orders, ends up back at the waffle house to take two more sets of breakfast to the same street, and after a busy lunch hour he stops for fifteen minutes to down the rest of what he’d been given at breakfast. He eats so fast that he has hiccups for the next few orders. Business picks up at dinnertime and Xiao is finally feeling the effect of the tips on his wallet. At this rate, it’s looking positive for the next rent payment.
He finally draws level with the Wanmin Restaurant to grab a final order of dumpling soup before he can go and find a bench to eat his (cold) leftovers that Kazuha gave him for dinner, because there won’t be anything back at the flat. Not that it makes up for the fact every cent of the 1340 mora he’s gained in tips is going straight back into the rent.
The map on his phone takes Xiao right out of the main harbour, the sounds of the bike chain clicking echoing through the desolate streets of Mingyun village. Usually the people here are so poor that Xiao would never be delivering any kinds of food here, so it seems odd to him that anybody would want a single serving of dumpling soup with hot sauce.
Xiao follows the map until he has to get off his bike to push it up a small path, and he ends up outside a desolate little shack with no lights on. He goes to knock on the door, but finds it creaking open ever so slightly.
“Hello?” He calls out, not even trying to hide the tiredness in his voice. “LiyueEats. Anyone home?”
Silence, so Xiao nudges the door open with his toe and calls again. “Hello? It’s Xiao from LiyueEats, I’ve got an order for - um - Madame Ping -”
“Yes, that’s me.” An aged voice suddenly makes Xiao jump out of his skin and he whips around to see a little old lady sat in the corner of the shack. The entire room is empty and Xiao suddenly feels uncomfortable, a crawling prickle working up his spine as he clutches onto the paper bag in his hands.
“Did you order the - uh - dumpling soup -” Xiao starts asking, but the lady interrupts, eyes flashing behind her glasses.
“I have chosen you.” She rasps, her voice echoing on the walls. “For you are pure of heart.”
Wow. Weirdo alert. Xiao has experienced a lot in his time as a driver, but this is the first time Xiao has been told something as stupid as being chosem. Wait, maybe she means she chose him specifically as a driver. He can’t help puffing his chest out a little bit in pride, recalling his user rating for his services.
“Well, maybe that five star rating does count for something -” He starts saying to himself mostly, before the lady suddenly stands, holding out her hand, and on instinct Xiao flinches away, only to look up and see that the old woman is holding in her palm a tiny little clay and gold teapot.
“Take this.” She orders, and Xiao doesn’t, freezing to the spot. “It contains everything you need.”
Xiao is still stood there holding the paper bag like an absolute lunatic, but he was taught to respect his elders as a kid so he’d better do so at risk of being hit with a newspaper. Expecting the teapot to maybe rattle with coins, he takes it from her, but it feels heavy - a little heavier than one would expect for such a simple object, but there are no sounds of money.
Crap. Xiao didn’t really know what he was expecting from an area like Mingyun Village, but a teapot is definitely one of the stranger things he’s received as a tip.
“Actually, all I need is -” Xiao is going to just ask the lady for few mora , a little less than what is customary so he can haul his butt out of here ASAP, and goes to hand the teapot back to her, but the old woman snaps him a harsh look, so he backs away with the small teapot in his hand still.
“You dare reject the will of the gods?” She cries, and Xiao immediately takes another step back. Yep, time to get out of here. He can live without the tip. This elderly woman has a screw loose.
“Sort of? Yeah - never mind. This one’s on me. Thanks.” Xiao blurts out, not wanting to admit that, yeah, he will reject the will of the gods in exchange for a decent tip, but realises that it’s not worth it being around this lady. The sooner he gets out of here, the sooner he can get back to actual tipping customers. He drops the paper bag into the lady’s hand, still outstretched, and backs away, the tiny teapot clasped in his hands. “Haveanicedaybye!” He calls out before disappearing out the door and slamming it behind him.
Xiao exhales sharply, leaning against the door, and feels his back pocket crinkle. Crap, the sachet of hot sauce is still in there. He curses, tucking the teapot under his arm before nudging the door open again.
“Here, your hot sau - oh.”
The woman is gone. The room is completely deserted. Xiao frowns, looking around, but even the stool the lady was sitting on has vanished.
Seriously freaky. What Chongyun would give to witness a very obviously haunted place like this. Xiao just gave dumpling soup to a ghost, of all things. He drops the hot sauce on the ground and legs it back to his bike, thoroughly getting the creeps now, and immediately goes to drive away.
The teapot is still under his arm. He takes it out and stares at it a little longer. The deep brown of the clay is engraved to show a wreathing, golden dragon across the surface. He tilts it to the light so it glints. A gift from a ghost. Maybe it’s valuable, Xiao thinks, and wonders whether he should give it to Chongyun to check out, or whether he should sell it to a pawn shop. He eventually decides on the latter. The gold might be enough to get them through this month’s rent.
He feels like he’s forgetting something. Oh man. It’s gone dinnertime anyway. Xiao thinks to himself, and there won’t be much business at this point. He’d be better to head home and check if his flatmates are still alive before he can collapse into bed and be kept up by the sounds of his neighbours having rampant sex.
Xiao tucks the teapot carefully into the pocket of his reflective jacket, shrugs his cooler backpack on and mounts the bike before heading back towards the city, cycling as fast as he dares out of the creepy suburbs. As soon as he’s back into bustling streets and flickering billboards and streetlights, he feels much better. The pawn shop closes as soon as Xiao cycles up to it, which is bad luck, but Xiao will just head back tomorrow. It’s probably better if he tries to get as much sleep in the evening as he can get away with before Kazuha gets home from work. Yes, Xiao has memorised his neighbours’ movements so he can plan the most effective sleep schedule. This is the sad existence he has been subjected to.
Xiao dismounts the bike and carries it up the stairs, the wheels bumping and scraping and the entire thing groaning as Xiao forces it around the corners. As he does so, Xiao sees his old flat, the one he and his mother and his sister used to live in, and he sees the faded lines of a crudely scribbled height chart on there. Xiao stops for a second, glancing down at it, and he can make out Ganyu’s lines in blue, so much taller than Xiao was, his in purple, and then he sees the lines in green that don’t belong to either him or Ganyu. The lines stopped being recorded when Xiao was nine, and when Ganyu was fourteen, and they just were left there to rot in the exposed weather. The new flat owner probably couldn’t be arsed to paint over them.
Honestly, Xiao doesn’t like to look at them, so he pulls a plant pot outside the flat to cover them, and then moves on, pushing the bike up to his own flat. The door is unlocked, and he can hear Xinyan playing her guitar on the inside, so he heaves another inhale before shoving the bike in first.
He knocks over a back of open candy Hu Tao must have abandoned on the side so Xiao picks the packet up and jams the spilled ones in his mouth, barely even chewing as he continues to battle with the bike.
The bicycle falls over instead of leaning on the wall so Xiao spends an additional five minutes attempting to step over it and get it upright past the open door and the frame, all whilst Xinyan is playing ear bleeding rock music, and Xiao could honestly sob. He just wants to put in his earplugs and go to bed, for the love of archons.
“XIAO! WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?” Hu Tao hollers, and Xiao bows his head before finally standing up, giving the bike one almighty wrench before it finally squeezes up and he manages to kick the front door shut to spare the remainder of the neighbours the noise.
He turns around to see Hu Tao holding up the notice from the landlord, and Xiao barely even reads it. The words run together into one black mess.
“Scaramouche is cranking up the rent. Again.” He mutters, pushing past her to look in the fridge for something alcoholic.
“Are you kidding me? We can’t afford this -” Hu Tao starts crying out, before Chongyun, attracted by the raised voices, leans over her shoulder.
“What’s going on?”
“Scaramouche is charging us more for the rent.” Hu Tao growls, reading through the notice again.
“What? Why is he doing that, Xiao?”
“I don’t know, Chongyun!” Xiao raises his voice ever so slightly, not willing to let his cup overflow just yet, but he’s on the verge of it.
“What are we going to do?” Hu Tao says, and Xiao ignores her, finding a bottle of beer right at the back of the fridge, which he opens using the counter edge.
“You two could get a job, for one.” Xiao snaps, and Hu Tao glares.
“I have a job!”
“Showing your feet to anyone who asks!” Xiao roars, whipping around to glare at her. “I don’t see any of it going towards the rent either!”
Hu Tao glares. “Sorry I have to pay for my medication because I am mentally ill, you ass.”
“Your medication can’t take up all of your money!” Xiao grinds his teeth, and Hu Tao scowls, curling her fingers around the paper so it crunches into his fist.
“Guys, please.” Chongyun pleads, holding his hands up, but they ignore him in favour of seething aggressively at each other.
“What’s going on?” Xinyan asks, poking her head around the corner.
“Scaramouche is putting up the rent. Keep up!” Xiao shoots at her, and Xinyan’s eyes go wide.
“What -” Xinyan starts asking, but immediately lets out a shriek when Hu Tao throws the paper at her so it bounces off her skull.
“Maybe if you didn’t play your music so goddamn loud you’d still have a brain cell left.” Hu Tao snarls, and Xinyan narrows her eyes.
“Say that again, bitch.” Xinyan shrieks, storming up to Hu Tao to quite possibly take a swing at her. Xiao leaps between them, pushing them both back with a hand on their chests, but unfortunately doesn’t quite realise where Hu Tao’s own fists are at that moment.
Hu Tao’s knuckles hit Xiao in the jaw, causing him to bite on his own tongue and the inside of his cheek. Xiao falls to his knees with a groan, clutching at his face whilst blood runs from his mouth. There’s an audible gasp from her and both women recoil, fighting forgotten whilst Xiao wipes at his lips and checks he still has all his teeth. Chongyun seems to have his hands clasped together in prayer, eyes wide like a deer in headlights.
“Xiao, I’m so sorry -” Hu Tao whimpers, and Xiao finally stands up, spitting a wad of blood into the kitchen sink.
“I am so fucking sick of living here like animals.” Xiao snaps, hands tightening around the edge of the sink. “It’s making us turn on each other, and I hate it. I hate it.”
The silence is heavy as Xiao continues to spit blood out and clean his mouth with water.
“I don’t like fighting.” Chongyun says quietly.
“We need to make some changes around here, or we’ll be out. And I mean it this time.” Xiao turns around, pressing a wet tea towel to his cheek.
All four of them are quiet for a second longer. The realisation of the situation has hit them all. If they don’t pull their shit together then they’ll be completely homeless. Xiao exhales shakily, still running his tongue over his teeth out of paranoia that they’ve been knocked out from Hu Tao’s punch, but they seem fine.
“First things first. You three need to get jobs, and I mean it. Not shitty streaming, not gigs that may or may not happen.” Xiao points to Hu Tao and Xinyan in turn. “And I have no idea what you’re doing in your spare time, Chongyun - but the same thing applies to you.”
“Just run of the mill exorcisms.” Chongyun says lightly. “But there isn’t much of a demand for that sort of service nowadays.”
Xiao is honestly more surprised by how un-surprised he is at that response.
“Okay, so you need to get a job where there is a demand.” Xiao responds. “I don’t care what kind of job it is as long as you’re out there earning money by the hour.” The others sigh and shuffle their feet and stare at the ground, and Xiao bristles. “I’m serious. We’re not going to be able to afford the rent otherwise. I can’t keep scraping it together for us all, and you know that.”
“Yeah, but aren’t you friends with that rich model guy all over the billboards? Can’t you ask him to cover for us until -” Xinyan says suddenly, pointing out the window to the roof of the building opposite, where there is indeed a picture of said rich model guy flaunting his designer threads. Xiao narrows his eyes and snaps the curtains shut.
“We were friends. Past tense. As children. I haven’t seen him for ten years; he has no idea who I am, and even if I did know him there is no way I would ever ask him for money.” Xiao snaps. “I would rather eat my own -”
“Okay. Sorry I asked.” Xinyan mutters, kicking at the floorboards with a toe.
Every time one of his flatmates bring up That Model it touches a nerve, and Xiao sure as anything doesn’t mind making that obvious. But what’s so infuriating about the situation is that they’re waiting around for a miracle: for a winning lottery ticket, for one of Hu Tao’s streamers to donate a pretty countryside mansion, for Xinyan to get a record deal or for Chongyun to find the long lost inheritance of a ghost… or for Xiao’s childhood friend to miraculously turn up on their doorstep and pay their rent for the next ten years. And because they’re sitting around waiting for said miracle, Xiao is the only one actually treading water to try and keep them afloat, and now he’s about to drown and bring them all down with him.
“I’m sorry I yelled.” Xiao mutters, sitting down on the floor, touching at his face tentatively with his fingertips, and he can feel the bruising springing up. “But I just can’t keep going at this rate.”
The others exchange glances, before turning back to him.
“Okay.” Hu Tao says. “What do we need to do?”
They then establish some ground rules. Grocery shopping needs to be kept to one trip a week. They will take it in turns to cook every two days, and eat leftovers between them. Paychecks go foremost to rent and groceries and then anything else is their business. And because people are going to be working, there will be Absolutely No Streaming/Playing Music/Ghost-Hunting Past Midnight No Exceptions Effective Immediately.
The new list of rules is pinned to the refrigerator with Scaramouche’s notice, and Xiao dismisses the flat meeting, feeling his bed magnetising him towards it by his strained eyeballs. He half expects the others to immediately forget what they just discussed, but Hu Tao and Xinyan quietly go back to their rooms, and Chongyun starts cleaning his documents and photography equipment from the table.
Xiao kicks all his clothes off aside from his underpants and collapses into bed with a groan, shuffling around under the covers and trying to curl up into a comfortable position, but the longer he lies there the louder his mind gets. He shuffles around a bit longer, hearing Chongyun clearing the kitchen and starting to cook something. Wow, it smells good. Xiao listens out a little longer, hearing the others eventually emerge to start helping Chongyun, and there’s no arguing that Xiao can hear. He almost wishes he could muster up the energy to join them, but his limbs are like lead.
“Should I ask Xiao if he wants to eat with us?” He hears Xinyan say about half an hour later.
“No, don’t disturb him.” Hu Tao’s voice is muffled both by the door and by a mouthful of food. “The asshole is completely ravaged by insomnia.”
Rude, but where’s the lie?
“I’ll put some in the fridge for him to have later.” He hears Chongyun say, and Xiao can’t help smiling a tiny bit as he turns over and finally drops off to sleep.
When he next wakes up, Xiao blearily fumbles around for his phone and checks the time. Crap, it’s 3am. He pricks his ears, and listens out. And for once, he can’t hear a single peep. Not even from the neighbours. Silence can be deafening in the strangest way.
Xiao tries his hardest to get back to sleep, but finds himself restless again, but not in the same crushing tiredness. He grunts, getting up and swinging his feet down, and stretches until his spine cracks with a satisfying pop, before pulling on a loose shirt, shorts and jamming his feet into a ragged pair of sneakers so that the backs are trodden down by his heels. A bit of fresh air and cold wind will be enough to get him back to sleep soon.
He cranks open the window, leans out and draws in a breath through his nose. The atmosphere is charged. He casts his eyes down, looking at Liyue still lit up, bustling with nightlife, the billboards unflickering and the streetlights lining the roads. Cars and other vehicles still rush down the streets, relieved of the congestion Xiao had seen earlier, lines of red and white headlights and backlights blurring together into one.
Xiao opens the window as far as it’ll go and hops out onto the fire escape, not wanting to make too much noise, so he places his feet carefully onto the metal surface. He then creeps up the stairs to the roof, climbing over the barrier.
Something knocks against his hip as he climbs over, and Xiao frowns, sticking his hand into his pocket to withdraw the stupid little teapot the old lady had given him earlier today. He scoffs, rolling his eyes and putting it down on the edge before turning back to his initial target.
He is immediately cast with blue and purple light. Xiao cranes his neck up to look at the absolutely enormous billboard on the roof, almost blinded by the LEDs so his vision is spotting. The advertisement shows a tall man in a suit, a pretty woman hanging off his arm, whilst they’re strolling past those ultra-modern luxury apartments that they’re building downtown. The irony is astounding, Xiao thinks, recalling the cockroaches under the oven of the very building the advertisement is set upon.
Xiao doesn’t know what comes over him, but gets up, and climbs up onto the narrow ledge next to the billboard, and stands in front of the man, posing like him. He feels silly initially, but remembers absolutely nobody can see him, and maybe to the passing car way down on the roads, it might look like he’s merely part of the advertisement.
And he just stays like that a while. He imagines he’s the man in the designer suit, with the gold watch, with the pretty girlfriend. He imagines they’re searching for the perfect home, decked out with everything they could want, a view of the ocean, a hot tub, enough money to set them and their grandchildren for life. And then when that gets too boring he switches places with the woman, imagines he’s the one holding onto his rich, handsome boyfriend - the boyfriend who buys him everything he even sets eyes on, gives him huge bouquets of arranged flowers, the boyfriend who he lies next to in their enormous king sized bed, sipping imported Fontainian champagne and talking about what useless stuff they’ll go shopping for next week. And then maybe they’ll have mind-blowing sex and fall asleep in clean, crisp white 300 thread count Sumerian cotton sheets, whatever that means.
The indulgent fantasy is merely just imagination at that moment, but when Xiao opens his eyes he’s still in his baggy shirt and delivery driver jacket and trodden down sneakers standing in front of a billboard. He lowers his arms, lets go of the fictional man’s arm, and swallows hard. What had gone through his head just then? Xiao has never wanted to live a life of luxury, just a life where he’s not fighting to get through to the next day, but… still, his heart yearns a little.
He goes to look at the man in the advertisement, look at his face again so he can squeeze in one last second of an “if only”, when the billboard switches to pure white and almost blinds him. Xiao yelps and hops backwards, almost falling from it, and has to scrub at his eyes for a second. Once he’s finished blinking away the sparkles in his vision, he looks up, and he’s met with That Model.
He’s advertising watches again. Xiao stares at him, sees the shiny, effortless designer clothing, sees his delicate, pale hands on the wheel of a sports car, and he sees that huge chunky gold and diamonds Rolex, and Xiao could puke. Even though the advertisement is luring him towards the watch, look at the watch, look at the watch, look how sexy and rich you will be if you wear the watch, Xiao can only stare at his face. He’s seemingly entranced by the watch on his wrist, bright green and blue irises on the crystal face, yet Xiao is met with an incessant need to be looked at himself. He wants those eyes on him, Archons, he wishes he could have those eyes on him one last time.
He follows the line down the model’s face, the bridge of his nose, his perfect lips, long eyelashes, silky hair. Xiao sees how his hair has been braided around the back of his head, supposingly effortless and ‘I just woke up like this’ when deep down he knows that he’s been preened over by hair and make-up artists for hours. It feels foreign, nothing like the twin braids Xiao used to see him in as kids.
“I hope you’re happy.”
The words are meant to be sour, a spitting accusation, yet, Xiao just sounds hollow. Because honestly, he knows that Venti is happy. Of course he is, being surrounded with success and money and pretty girls and honestly? That’s all Venti ever wanted.
Xiao doesn’t know what comes over him by talking to the watch advert, but hey, he’s been pretending to be in one for the last ten minutes. So this isn’t much of a step up. He sighs, sits down on the roof barrier and stares at the advertisement a moment longer before opening his mouth again.
“If I walked past you in the street would you even recognise me?” Xiao asks him, and although Venti doesn’t answer, Xiao answers his own question. “I mean, I grew out my hair a bit. And started dying it. And the tattoo is new.” Xiao lists it on his fingers, but sags and exhales loudly, hands tightening around his knees. “No, of course you wouldn’t. You have rich friends and agents and servants and you’re lounging around somewhere in a mansion in Mondstadt. I hate you.”
But I recognize you . I see you everywhere and yet it’s not enough.
“Could have at least had an invite to a birthday party or something.” He finally mutters to himself.
Venti continues to cast his eyes over the watch on his wrist, and Xiao swallows hard.
“I miss -”
There’s a loud buzzing and the billboard changes again. Xiao closes his jaw and turns away.
“Idiot.” He scolds himself, smacking the back of his own hand before he turns back towards the edge of the roof down towards the stairs.
Only then does he notice how the teapot sitting on the wall is juddering and steaming, letting loose a high pitched whistle. Xiao stares at it, and on autopilot he goes over to take it off the heat because the tea is ready but - hold on. He is on the roof.
He doesn’t know what to do with that realization before the teapot squeaks and the lid shoots off, rocket launching itself into the sky with a tiny puff of smoke. Xiao cranes his neck and watches it go with huge eyes, and finally looks back down at the teapot.
“Well, that was weird and fucked up.” Xiao says, before the teapot explodes in his face..
Xiao is enveloped in gold sparkling smoke piling around him and up into the sky. He recoils with a shriek of terror, coughing and trying to get his bearings, but the glittery smoke is choking him and pressing on him at all angles.
He tries to get a look at the sky but can only see tiny flecks of dark blue through the puffs of smoke rolling out, and as Xiao squints, he can see how the steam and smoke is beginning to condense, wreathing up into a helix. It almost looks as if it is solidifying.
“Greetings, young master.”
The booming voice causes Xiao to jump out of his skin, still holding his nose and turning around, trying to find an exit from the smoke because the glitter can’t be good for his lungs in any way shape or form.
“The heavens have opened and your wishes will be granted by the will of the Gods.”
The smoke continues to whirl, dazzling in its colour and formations. The voice is deep, and rumbles the very earth, and sends shock and awe vibrating through Xiao’s bones and up his spine. Dismembered at first, the voice echoes, and then the smoke fully condenses to reveal a creature rising from the air.
Long and slender, made up of deep brown scales and gold woven through its immense mane and tail, a dragon rears from the golden mist. The fur lining its head, back and tail tip ripples and flows like it is in water, whilst its shining gold horns and claws glint the reflections from the billboard.
That candy must have had something in it. Xiao thinks to himself. It’s the only reasonable explanation.
“Uh.” Is the only word that leaves his mouth.
The dragon floats in front of him, great head reared, and all Xiao can think about is how immense in detail this acid trip is. Holy shit.
“Ah. A peasant boy.” The dragon says, its voice resonating through the concrete, although it has lost the booming echo it previously spoke with. “I do believe this makes my job easier.”
Xiao can feel how low his jaw is dropping, before he finally wheezes and clutches at his stomach. He knew he shouldn’t have eaten that candy on the side!!
“Archons, Hu Tao’s edibles are something else.” He says, turning away from the dragon. “Or I’m dead.”
Actually, that could also be a possibility. Maybe he fell off the roof and this is the afterlife. The dragon must be here to take him to - well - Xiao doesn’t really like the idea of being dead any longer. He glances around, looking for someone he may know, but the heavens seem pretty shit right now. It still looks like he’s on the roof under the intimidating aura of the watch model.
“Ah. Well. I can assure you that you are not intoxicated. Or dead.” The dragon responds, and Xiao yelps as golden claws grab him by the hood and jolt him back to where he was previously.
The dragon just touched him. And moved him. Wow, Xiao must be so unbearably high right now and this is the final super intense hallucination - a final cry for help before his heart gives out. He stares at the dragon a second longer whilst it analyses him with amber eyes.
“I have been in your pocket all day and Xiao, I can very much confirm that you are not high right now.” The dragon repeats, and Xiao mutters to himself, covering his mouth with his hand.
“That’s exactly what a hallucination would say though.” Xiao jabs at the dragon, poking it in its scaly chest. “They would insist that they’re not a hallucination and then boom, I’m dead on the ground, cause of death: whatever weird shit Hu Tao bought off the dark web -”
“I am not a hallucination, however.” The dragon insists.
Xiao glares at it. “My point exactly.”
“I am Rex Lapis, and I am a Wish Dragon.” The dragon says, rearing back and doing some sort of strange, regal dragon pose, but Xiao has had enough. All he can do is sleep this weird high off and hope he wakes up from it.
“Alright, whatever. I’m going to bed. You can keep doing whatever it is hallucinations do. I won’t miss you when I’m sober.” Xiao snaps, going to push past the dragon, but then realises that because the dragon isn’t real, he can just walk through it. However, when he does so, he is only met with a wall of scales and fur that hurts his nose a lot. Xiao falls to his backside, clutching his nose and crying out with pain. It was like running into a brick wall. The dragon looks at him, unimpressed.
“Young Xiao. I am a celestial being beyond your human understanding, but I shall make this extremely simple for you.” Rex Lapis says, holding up the clay and gold teapot in his clawed paw. “You have summoned me from this teapot and therefore that makes you my master. As your subject, I will grant you three wishes.”
“What kind of Aladdin rip-off bullshit even is this?” Xiao demands, but the dragon scoffs, dropping the teapot into Xiao’s hands.
“So start wishing. Please.” Rex Lapis says, and he sounds tired. Xiao analyses the dragon a second longer, the teapot warm against his hands.
“This is stupid. Wishes don’t exist, dragons don’t exist, and you are fake. You’re not real, I’m tripping so hard right now - Archons, I think I might puke -” Xiao heaves and slaps a hand over his mouth, and the dragon starts in alarm, snatching the teapot from him.
“Do not vomit in that!”
“ Hurgh - I wasn’t going to - hurk -” Xiao doubles over and pukes in front of the billboard. The dragon twists its face up into a grimace, pure frustration creasing its reptilian eyebrows.
“Let us finish this contract at your earliest convenience. Ideally immediately.” Rex Lapis rumbles, almost seeming to grow in size as Xiao wipes his mouth and looks up at him. “Do you wish for a suit of armor made from solid gold? It shall be so!”
Xiao feels himself rising from the floor with the dragon and yelps in horror as visions of pure golden armour and weapons circle around him. To say he’s tripping balls would be an understatement. The dragon circles around him.
“The strength of a thousand men? The finest carriage in all the land? The wings of a hawk? Anything your heart desires: it shall be so!” Rex Lapis roars, fine sparks springing from his claws and golden teeth as he finally whips around Xiao and drops him harshly on the ground.
Xiao is panting hard as the dragon finally settles on its paws in front of him, eyes blazing, and suddenly he isn’t so sure that this is a hallucination. The dragon’s breath is warm, puffing against Xiao’s face, and he smells of earth, and his exhales rumble deep in his chest like a soft growl waiting to be ripped free. Just to be sure, Xiao reaches out and pokes the dragon in the nostril with a finger, and recoils when he has amber irises snapped on him.
“How many wishes do I get?” He says hoarsely, and the dragon’s eyes light up, dropping the teapot back into Xiao’s hands again.
“Three.”
“Three?”
“That is indeed what I said.”
“Okay…” Xiao mutters, staring at the golden dragon engraved on the pottery, before he looks up at the dragon. “How the fuck did you fit in this tiny thing?”
The dragon’s face falls. “That’s not -”
“And you’re brown. I always thought dragons would be green. Or blue.” Xiao squints at the dragon, poking him in the face again. “Can you breathe fire? How old are you -”
“Now listen here, peasant boy.” Rex Lapis snaps, grabbing Xiao by the hood with his tail and hoiking him up into the air with a shriek. “I do not have time for all your questions. I am not here to be your friend -”
“Did I touch a nerve with the age thing? Are you ancient? Are you a grandpa?” Xiao says maliciously, because pissing off his own acid trip is way too entertaining. “And I don’t want to be your fucking friend. Even if I wanted to, you have to earn my friendship, and frankly you’re doing a positively shit job of it -”
“ENOUGH!” The dragon roars, causing Xiao to recoil and turn his head away. “Listen very carefully here, young one. A Wish Dragon is under an unbreakable contract to serve at least ten masters before they are free to move on to the afterlife, and you -” He pokes Xiao on the nose with a claw. “- are the last one. I have been contained in this teapot for one thousand years, and I would very much like to retire, and you are preventing me from doing so. The sooner you make three wishes, the sooner I can have a glass of my favourite wine. Have I made myself perfectly clear?” Rex Lapis rumbles, curling his lip to show gold fangs.
Well, as clear as an edible fueled pissed off lizard can get.
The billboard buzzes and Xiao looks back at it to see Venti again, still looking at the watch with his beautiful eyes and Xiao internally sags, but the light of the billboard is glinting on the teapot and it’s filling him with all sorts of completely crazy ideas. First things first, he needs to get off the roof and back to sleep as soon as possible so he’s not tired. What’s the worst that can happen? Worst, the dragon is just because he ate some suspicious candy and Xiao ends up exactly the way things are. Best, the dragon actually is some sort of wish-granting god and Xiao has endless opportunities ahead of him.
That fantasy of living in the billboard may not be such a fantasy after all. Maybe it is in fact tantalisingly within reach.
Xiao turns to Rex Lapis, still suspicious and not wanting to get his hopes up, but a curl of warmth in his stomach still hopes. “Will you still be there in the morning? You’re -” He swallows. “You’re honestly not my imagination?”
Rex Lapis has a kind, softened look in his wise, golden eyes. “You have my word.”
Again, it seems exactly like something a hallucination would say. But Xiao wants to believe. He wants to believe more than anything. He wants to believe that there could be a better life for him, and this dragon could be the way to it.
But this isn’t the first time he’s been promised things by people who don’t stick around to fulfil them.
“Okay.” He whispers, taking the leap. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
If you’re still there.
“Ah, well. What’s one more night?” The dragon grumbles, suddenly liquidising into that same golden smoke and Xiao gasps as it drains into the spout of the teapot, and then suddenly there is no evidence that the dragon had been there at all.
Xiao hurries down from the roof, leaps into bed, and sleeps the entire night clutching the teapot to his chest, because now he has a way out, he’s not going to risk losing it.
The clay of the teapot is warm, and thuds regularly, like a heartbeat in his hands.