— 𝙢𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙤𝙧 𝙢𝙪𝙣𝙙𝙤𝙧𝙪𝙢.

Paimon's giggle is somehow coy, as if shy at Zhongli's teasing. It sits juxtaposed to her usual pestering, entirely unafraid of mocking the Geo Archon to his face. "Paimon thought that was a good greeting!" She grins, fluttering into place between Aether and Zhongli to hear the remainder of the story. The fairy loves stories dearly, and soon Zhongli is momentarily forgotten in his entirety. Her eyes grow to the size of saucers, lips parted as she hangs on Iron Tongue Tian's every word. Though she and Aether have only joined the story part way through, the retelling is enthralling. Paimon gasps as words tumble from his lips, a shriek barely contained by her tiny palm as the twist is presented expertly. By the time Tian approaches the table, Paimon lets out a hiccuping cry. "What a beautiful story!" She sniffs, voice raising pitch. "It makes Paimon cry, thinking about how much the Adepti sacrifice for Liyue." She admits, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. It only solidifies her love for Madame Ping and Xiao, and adds to her urgency to get Zhongli's aid in surprising the latter.

Aether listens in kind, the story compelling, though he can't help but focus more on Zhongli's gentle corrections. He wants to know more about the Archon, and his relationship with the Adepti, but now is not the time. He chuckles, lips parting to respond when Paimon interrupts once more. "Not yet! Paimon and Aether are going to make the trouble!" She giggles once more, absolutely giddy with the prospect. Aether laughs warmly, nodding. "I suppose that's one way of putting it. In past Lantern Rite's, Paimon and I have taken time to do something nice for Xiao. We'd like to again. It's been some time since we've last seen him, and I thought maybe you'd be interested in joining us? We need to get started on a plan. I've already shot down a half dozen of Paimon's. I don't think Xiao will take kindly to any plan involving using me as bait." He eyes his companion, giving a warning gaze. There can be no repeats of the ill-fated pretend drowning. Paimon's other ideas –– caught in a Hilichurl trap, balancing precariously on the side of a cliff, and stuck in amber on Mt. Hula –– all seemed as likely to infuriate the Adeptus.

As with all of the Traveler’s requests, Zhongli thinks solemnly of it; his fingers are wrapped around the teacup, and this time he takes a slow, musing sip as they express their plan to surprise Xiao during this Lantern Rite. It pleases him to hear of it, but Zhongli’s constitution remains serious and erect while he listens. It’s not until they reach the end of their explanation that he smiles once more, having taken it in and feeling warmed again by the knowledge that the young adeptus has found trusted companions in the pair before him. In fact, he cannot help the delighted chuckle, a brief sentiment of enjoyment, that spills forth at the idea. 

“If I may,” He says, “Paimon has lighted on an interesting proposal. A picnic at Pervases’ shrine would provide the ideal amount of quiet solace and seclusion, being that it is located far enough from the harbor that not many are passing by. Additionally, the setting would yield the perfect opportunity to prepare a serving of Almond Tofu that our adeptus friend would, at the least, find agreeable to his senses. I daresay it is a plan worth pursuing.” 

Whether it was their intention to seek a loftier idea to surprise Xiao with from Zhongli– someone who knows the adeptus well– is quietly set aside by the Archon. He is happy to simply be invited and present, glad to partake in the merriment of time reserved for those close friendships with no further intrusions, be that as a consultant or planner; it is indeed sacred time spent, and it is his desire to do it as they would without intervention from him. Besides, he can hardly tell what happens in Xiao’s mind when he’s around him– it always seems that the adeptus is in some form put out by his presence. Not ill at ease, yet not wholly at ease. If he were to attempt to explain such an occurrence, Zhongli’s guess is that The Conqueror of Demons can’t quite adjust to him as Zhongli, a mere funeral parlor consultant living among mortals as opposed to the Archon he followed in centuries long past during drawn-out, arduous battles. Perhaps the Traveler’s attendance, along with the ever-energetic Paimon, would ease Xiao’s tendency towards being unnerved around him. 

Liyue Harbor bustles with energy as preparations for Lantern Rite enter full swing. Aether can practically feel the energy thrum through his veins as Paimon rambles on beside him. He's only half paying attention, his eyes drawn instead to the work being done. Music fills the Harbor, as does the smell of food, and the drone of voices and tools being used. Everyone seems to have a job at hand, and though Liyue is not home, he can't help the feeling of welcomeness and belonging as he squeezes through the unusually busy Harbor streets.

"––is probably listening to a story! Paimon bets there's grand stories for Lantern Rite! Oooh, do you think we have time to listen?" Paimon asks, her own bubbly energy heightened to match that of the Harbor's. Aether chuckles as he nods, "I imagine we can make time for one. You're probably right, let's head to Heyu Teahouse first and see if Zhongli is there." He agrees, heading toward the steps below Northland Bank. He wonders for a moment if Chide may be in the Harbor for Lantern Rite too.

While enjoying an evening of early festivities, Zhongli is thrown into the company of two most fascinating creatures: they appear as lanterns to his eyes, illuminating the street as they approach until he can positively feel the warm energy emanating from the pair. The chipper voice that calls out his name fills Zhongli’s cup with joy at once, caught mid-sip when he tears his focused gaze from the stage where Iron Tongue Tian weaves his words into the climax Zhongli knows is coming; he has heard this story countless of times now, yet there is always something different, he’s noticed, a small detail rewritten in every new retelling. His eyebrows lift to reveal a soft expression, both inquiring and amused at the pair’s patent buoyancy. 

“Trouble with the Traveler and Paimon? Well, I can’t say I’m surprised.” Zhongli places the teacup down and exhales a laugh. “While I can say with confidence that you have piqued my interest with such a remarkable greeting, I would first like to listen to the end of Iron Tongue Tian’s story before I make further Inquiries. I believe we are reaching the climax of the story, if you would like to join me, Traveler.” 

He beckons the seat beside him and soon his attention is back on the stage, delighting in the exciting tale that speaks of the Adepti, his dear friends, reverent in the perspective of mortals. When it is over, Iron Tongue Tian approaches the table directly; Zhongli promised him feedback when he arrived earlier this evening. Indeed, he has small notes to make, all pertaining to the accuracy of the events that the Archon explains as if he’d simply heard it differently elsewhere, whether in village records or a book, never divulging that he’s recounting from his own memory. He can feel the Traveler’s gaze on him and Paimon’s gaze even heavier, but this little lie, the act he has come to carefully adapt, yields nothing but harmless pleasure in days of well-earned leisure. Iron Tongue Tian leaves with the opinion that creative liberty is frequently taken to make stories more exciting, and Zhongli is content with his piece of feedback despite feeling like it wasn’t taken into account.