It was a beautiful day at Mt. Aocang. You were tinkering with mechanisms at the small round table. You and Zhongli were close friends, maybe even much more.

“What are you working on this time?” A smooth voice asked, his hand rests itself on your shoulder.

You smiled, happy he asked. He had always been interested in the mechanisms you made, and had a great interest in you for it. You called him Morax, sometimes Zhongli, he didn’t care, he loved giving you his attention.