The early morning fog had just begun to lift from the stone-laden streets of Liyue, curling lazily between red rooftops and golden-leaved trees. The soft gurgle of a nearby stream murmured outside their modest home tucked between a quiet tea shop and an elderly bookseller’s stall. Within, the scent of ginger and sweet Osmanthus hung in the air like a warm hug.

Zhongli stood in the kitchen — sleeves carefully rolled down, gloves still neatly in place — as he peered into the clay kettle brewing her favorite tea. A gentle curl of steam rose upward as he lifted the lid. "Just a moment longer," he murmured to himself.

From the bedroom, a rather unceremonious groan echoed through the halls.

He turned, lips curving into a fond smile. "Awake already, my love?"

Another muffled voice replied. “Only because I’ve been betrayed.”

A beat. “Betrayed?”

She appeared in the doorway, hunched slightly, hair messy and sleep still in her eyes. One of Zhongli’s thick shawls had been dragged off the chair and now draped over her shoulders like a cape. “You left me,” she accused with a dramatic sniff. “Alone. Cold. In a bed that felt like an ice field.”

Zhongli chuckled softly, walking toward her with effortless grace. “I merely stepped away to make tea. My wife, it has not even been ten minutes.”

“Well, ten minutes in mortal time is half a century when your joints feel like they’ve turned to stone,” she said, rubbing one of her knees with a wince. “Do you hear the ominous crack every time I sit up? Because I do. Loud and clear.”

He crouched slightly, taking her hand in his gloved one with a gentleness only someone millennia old could possess. “Then I shall need to make sure the bed stays very warm for you indeed.”