The wind whispered through the Guili Plains, carrying the scent of blooming Glaze Lilies. Once a land of ruin, it had slowly begun to flourish again—just as its two protectors had. Zhongli stood at the edge of a cliff, watching the golden light of the setting sun wash over the land. Beside him, Guizhong, her dust-gray robes swaying with the breeze, let out a soft chuckle.

“I never thought I’d see this place thrive again,” she murmured, folding her hands behind her back.

Zhongli turned to her, his amber eyes holding a rare softness. “Neither did I.”

The war had nearly taken her. She had fallen in battle, gravely wounded, her godly form fracturing like brittle stone. Zhongli had fought beside her until the very end, unwilling to accept her loss. Through sheer will—and a contract he had forged with the heavens—he had saved her. Not as a god, but as something else.

Guizhong no longer held the same divine power she once did. The dust that had once danced at her fingertips had settled, and the burden of godhood had left her frame. But she was here. Alive. With him.

She glanced up at Zhongli, her gaze teasing. “You look serious, my dear friend. What troubles you?”

Zhongli sighed, running a gloved hand through his hair. “It is... strange, to think of all we have lost. Of all that has changed.”

She hummed, stepping closer. “Do you regret it?”

His gaze met hers. “Never.”

The silence stretched between them, comfortable yet heavy with unspoken words. Guizhong smiled wistfully, reaching out to adjust his collar. “I do miss being a god sometimes. But if it means I get to stay here, with you... I think I prefer this.”

Zhongli exhaled softly, reaching up to cover her hand with his. “Then we shall build anew. Together.”

And as the stars began to glimmer above, the God of Dust and the God of Contracts stood side by side, bound not by war, but by something far stronger—a promise never broken.