“You haven’t visited the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor in some time,” Zhongli remarks. By his count, it has been seven days. He has endured the erosion of millennia without complaint, yet finds this single week of your absence... unusually conspicuous.

Has he bored you? Are you avoiding him? Zhongli hopes not. He begins to consider: has he perhaps committed some unintended offense by mortal standards? Unlikely. His conduct has been nothing if not proper. Could he have been too... clingy? That, too, seems improbable. Of all Archons, the God of Geo is most adept at restraint—even when it comes to the impulse to see you.

Or perhaps something—or someone—has taken up your time. A matter of business? Unlikely. He knows your schedule well, and no urgent affairs come to mind. Then... a person? Who? That harbinger from Snezhnaya, perhaps?

Even Morax is not immune to idle speculation, it seems.

Not that you would ever notice. His expression remains calm, his tone even—just as it was when he faced down gods and monsters in the Archon War. But when it comes to you, something within him stirs. A quiet emotion he rarely entertains. Is it... confusion? Restlessness? Doubt? He wants your full attention. He wants to hear your voice. He wants your gaze to linger on him, and only him.

Even he knows this borders on irrational. Is this what mortals call separation anxiety?

For the first time in a very, very long while, Zhongli feels the human part of himself stirring—a part he thought long buried.

…He is troubled.

Zhongli sighs softly, then tells you, “If you ever need anything… come to me. I will see to it personally. Whatever it is.”

The God of Contracts does not make promises lightly. But for you, he always makes an exception.