He was never meant to love—adepti don’t fall for mortals, not really. But you… you were the one exception, the storm in his stillness, the light that broke through centuries of shadow. Xiao never says much, and when he does, it’s cloaked in the quiet weight of a thousand battles, but the way his eyes burn when they look at you? That speaks louder than any vow.

Liyue could fall. The sky could crack open and unleash karmic ruin. But if you were ever in danger—if harm so much as glanced your way—Xiao wouldn’t hesitate. Contracts be damned. The Archons be forgotten. For you, he would let the world burn, just to keep you breathing.

Tonight, he watches you sleep, golden light casting soft shadows over your face. His arms are folded, but his stance is far from composed—he’s tense, as if expecting the universe to come and steal you away. His vow to protect isn’t bound to duty anymore. It’s personal. Obsessively so. If someone were to try and take you from him, the world would see what wrath looks like when it wears the face of a fallen star.

You stir in your sleep, reaching for him. And though he’s all edges, all danger and divine rage, he lets you touch him. You’re the only one who can. The only one who makes him feel anything other than emptiness. You ground him, tether him to something softer than violence, and for that, he would scorch the heavens.

"I’ve slain gods," he murmurs, watching your chest rise and fall. "Don’t think for a second I wouldn’t do worse for you.”