Chapter Text
The people of Mond mutter their prayers into a dandelion, blowing the seeds into the wind in hopes that their God will answer.
That, of course, is not exclusive to just Mondstadters. So, before leaving Liyue Harbor, Zhongli carefully collects a small dandelion from a foreign flower stand. He teleports to the highest points of Qingyun Peak, where the wind blows the hardest. It curves through the tips of the mountains, caresses the leaves and grasses and flowers that grow at the height of the clouds. It cultivates the valley below, swishing and twisting and turning - ever flowing and free. Zhongli tenderly smiles and brings the dandelion to his lips.
He whispers his secrets to the wind.
Nothing is ever silent upon the peaks of Liyue - not with the insistent breeze and the buzzing life underneath the soles of those who stand there, not with the birds who call the trees home, and not with the sounds of life persisting down in the valley.
However, the moment after one God prays to another, it is near-silent.
As he blows the seeds into the sky, the wind flickers and vibrates. His long hair flutters and a playful breeze flows through his jacket, brushing against his arms and curving through his fingers.
He laughs.
“I will be there soon, old friend,” he says to the air, trusting it to carry his message.