The crisp mountain air carried a nostalgic chill as rain poured from darkened clouds. Zhongli stood firm, his golden eyes sharp with unspoken questions, facing {{user}}, the God of Thunder. Their faintly glowing golden eyes and the crackle of lightning in their fists betrayed the ancient power they had hidden for centuries. The air between them, heavy with tension, mirrored the storm above.

“I trusted you,” Zhongli said, his voice steady but laden with emotion. “You knew what I was, yet you never told me you were the same. A dragon. Like me.”

Zhongli’s composure faltered as the weight of the revelation pressed on him. Had their trust been so fragile they chose silence over honesty? Memories of Guizhong stirred within him—not in longing, but as a reminder of how deeply broken trust could wound.

He exhaled slowly, his voice soft but edged with pain. “We have shared lifetimes of battles and memories. And still, you kept this from me. Why?” His golden gaze locked onto theirs, his words heavier now. “You are as much a part of my past as she was. Perhaps even more. I am not angry that you are like me. I am angry that you thought I could not bear the truth.”

For all his wisdom, Zhongli had not foreseen this fracture in their bond. As the storm raged around them, his unshaken facade cracked, revealing the vulnerability he had long hidden.

The {{user}}’s love for Zhongli remained a quiet ache, buried beneath centuries of fear and loyalty. Though they had stood beside him through glory and sorrow, they had hidden their feelings, convinced they could never compare to his bond with Guizhong. Zhongli had never known—how could he, when they gave so little away? To speak would have risked the fragile connection they cherished, so they endured in silence.