Original God Zhongli BG Xiao Qinglong traveled through time

The ethereal sound of the midnight drum drifted from the foot of the mountain, like a pebble dropped into a tranquil lake, sending invisible ripples across Tianheng Mountain's summit. The last lantern, bearing its prayers, slowly ascended into the deep night sky, merging into the galaxy. The bustling din of Liyue Harbor gradually subsided like the ebbing tide, leaving only scattered laughter and the sight of stall owners packing up their stalls, their shadows stretched out in the warm glow of lanterns, both tired and content. After the clamor faded, a deeper stillness permeated the world, even the wind grew especially gentle, fearing to disturb this hard-earned peace.

Atop the mountain, the fireworks display had ended, leaving only the clear moonlight and the distant lights of the harbor, weaving a hazy glow. Yu Qing had stood up without realizing it, the hem of his red robe fluttering lonely in the mountain breeze. He gazed at the harbor city, gradually drifting into sleep, the complex light in his eyes finally settling into a knowing calm. He turned in Xiao's direction, his gaze lingering for a moment on the ball of silver-gray fur curled between his dark green shirt. A faint curve, barely a smile, curved his lips.

"The show's over, it's time for the audience to return." His voice was deeper than usual, less sarcastic and more sincere. "The winter's snow must have accumulated thickly, waiting for me, a man who never returns, to sweep it away." He didn't say goodbye, merely nodded slightly, a sort of accord with the mountaintop's silence. Then, with a flicker of his figure, like a drop of ink blending into the night, he vanished silently into the shadows of the cliffside, leaving behind no trace, only a faint, foreign, chilling scent that was quickly blown away by the mountain breeze.

Almost immediately after Yu Qing left, another aura quietly gathered, like moonlight. Shen He slowly emerged from beneath the pine tree, her icy blue eyes clear and piercing. She glanced first at Xiao, then at the cat sleeping peacefully in his arms, as if making a final observation. Then, in her usual even tone, she spoke, her voice like the tapping of jade: "Our business here is complete. While the mundane world can be beneficial for enlightenment, remaining here for too long may disturb my quiet cultivation. I must return to Aozang Mountain to continue tempering my mind." She paused, then added, as if stating an objective fact: "She was sleeping... very soundly."

After she finished speaking, she said no more. With a wave of her wide sleeves, her figure turned into tiny specks of ice crystal fairy dust. With a hint of chill, it gracefully dissipated under the moonlight and returned to the fairy cave in the deep clouds.

On the mountaintop, only Xiao remained, now, with the defenseless, warm little creature in his arms. The distant lights gradually dimmed, like stars disappearing one by one, and the chill of the night began to fully take hold. Xiao could feel the furry creature in his arms unconsciously tucking deeper into him in its sleep, seeking warmth. He instinctively closed his arms, and a subtle flow of elemental energy dispelled the encroaching coldness.

In this utter silence, a third figure appeared, without warning, yet as naturally as the rising and setting of the moon. There were no footsteps, no spatial fluctuations; simply, beside the bluestone, a figure as steady as a mountain stood silently. Zhongli remained clad in his dark robe, embroidered with flowing cloud patterns. His gilded pupils shone with a gentle glow under the moonlight. He first glanced at Liyue Harbor, his gaze filled with the composure of a territorial patrol and a subtle sense of relief. Then, his gaze returned to Xiao and the cat in his arms.

He didn't say anything immediately, but just stood there quietly, as if admiring a beautiful painting. When Xiao noticed the arrival, he raised his Nuo mask slightly and tried to stand up, but was stopped by the weight in his arms.

"That's all right." Zhongli raised his hand and lightly pressed it, signaling him not to be polite. His voice was deep and rich, remarkably clear on the silent mountaintop, yet strangely unobtrusive. Instead, it was like a warm breeze, smoothing the last sharp edges of the night. "The night is deep, the dew is heavy and the wind is chill." He slowly stepped forward, his gaze resting on the sleeping cat. His eyes, deep and profound, seemed to hold the history and warmth of the entire rock formation. "Leave it to me."

Xiao was silent for a moment, looking down at the sleepy little face buried in the fur in his arms. Then he looked up at Zhongli. Through his Nuo mask, his eyes conveyed a complex mix of emotions—a sense of relief at having had a burden lifted off his shoulders, a subtle reluctance, but more than that, a deep trust. He adjusted his arm extremely slowly and carefully, attempting to smoothly transfer the cat.

At that moment of connection, as if the movement had disturbed her sweet dream, or perhaps it was the approach of a familiar breath deep within her soul, the cat meowed softly in her sleep, her voice husky and thick with sleep. She didn't wake, but instinctively and drowsily stretched out her little paw, scratching at the air, only to find it resting on Zhongli's outstretched wrist. Then, as if confirming something, she tilted her head and buried herself deeper, continuing to sleep.

A faint smile flickered across Zhongli's eyes, like sunlight filtering through layers of rock. He steadily took the warm, soft weight and adjusted himself to a comfortable position. His wide sleeves fell naturally, perfectly shielding her from the night wind. His movements were practiced and natural, as if he had performed them for centuries.

Xiao watched the cat find a more secure position in the Emperor's arms. Even the last vestiges of uneasiness subsided, and he finally relaxed his tense shoulders. He stood up and bowed solemnly to Zhongli's back. Though silent, his words said it all. Then, just as silently as he had arrived, the dark green figure blended into the night, returning to his endless vigil.

Zhongli didn't turn back. He simply gazed down at the sleeping beast in his arms, his fingertips lightly brushing its satin-smooth silver-gray fur. He stood still atop the mountain for a moment longer, until the last fishing fire faded from the returning boats. Then he turned and set off down the mountain with steady steps. His figure, bathed in the moonlight and the fading afterglow of the lights, seemed to carry the stillness of the entire mountain as he walked step by step towards the sleeping city.

When Xizhi Maomao slowly emerged from her deep sleep, the first thing that enveloped her was the familiar scent of colorful flowers embedded in the beams of the Wangsheng Hall, mixed with the warm, aged aroma of books. The candlelight cast a soft glow through the gauze curtains, transforming the guest room into a warm, secluded nest. She moved her curled paws. Beneath her body lay an exceptionally soft brocade cushion, and a thin, flannel blanket draped over her, bearing the marks of having been carefully tucked in.

She lazily opened her eyes, her azure pupils like misty glass in the warm light. First, she vaguely reflected the familiar wooden beams overhead. Then, tilting her head slightly, she saw Zhongli sitting quietly on the tea couch. He held a yellowed book, his knuckles firmly supporting a plain porcelain cup. The curling tea smoke obscured his profile, as calm as ancient jade.

When I looked closer, my heart felt like it was gently bumped by something soft.

Walnut didn't sit properly. Instead, she sprawled out on the soft couch next to the brocade cushion, her back tilted upward, like a kitten relaxing in the sun. Her arms, folded and wrapped around the edge of the cushion, just enough to shelter the sleeping cat in the small space they created. Her legs swung restlessly, back and forth behind her, the tips of her shoes twitching slightly, revealing a bored yet contented patience. She tilted her head, her chin resting on the back of her hand, her bright, round eyes wide open, staring unblinkingly at the ball of silver-gray fur on the cushion, which rose and fell gently with each breath. Her gaze was filled with an almost overflowing, unadulterated admiration and curiosity, as if she were examining a rare and precious treasure that had been lost and rediscovered.

Seeing the furry mass finally stir, Hu Tao's eyes lit up like a lantern in the sky. She subconsciously wanted to exclaim, but then suddenly remembered something and quickly swallowed the words that were on the tip of her tongue. She simply leaned her head closer and whispered in a voice that danced with joy like a jumping star snail: "Ah, you're finally awake? You slept so soundly?"

Maomao wasn't fully awake yet, sleep still lingering like a tide. She drowsily gazed at the face magnified before her—the girl's skin shone warmly in the candlelight, her eyes gleamed, and even her breath carried a vibrant, almost scorching vitality. This feeling was starkly different from Mr. Zhongli's mountainous, calm warmth, yet equally reassuring. Almost instinctively seeking warmth, she forced a soft, nasal "Meow..." from her throat, like the tail end of a dream, or perhaps an unconscious response.

Then, under Walnut's breathless gaze, the cat made a move that made her even freeze her dangling legs in an instant - she tilted her furry head slightly, as if she had removed all the strength to support herself, and leaned her warm and soft cheeks and entire little head, like a feather, gently and with complete trust against Walnut's forehead.

The feeling at that moment was indescribable. It was the feel of fur finer than the finest cloud satin, the heart-trembling warmth of a small animal transmitted unreservedly, a warmth so pure it could dispel any gloom. Walnut froze, subconsciously holding even her breath, afraid that even the slightest draft would disturb this sudden, sweet "assault." She felt an indescribable tingling sensation surge from her forehead, where they had pressed together, to every part of her body. Her heart softened into a pool of warm spring water, as if a million glass lilies were silently blooming within her chest.

Zhongli's gaze had unknowingly lifted from the scroll, resting quietly on the huddled figure of man and cat. A faint warmth, like sunlight penetrating rock, shone through his gilded eyes. He made no move to interrupt, merely gently turning the page, his lips curling into an almost imperceptible, incredibly gentle curve.

Inside the Hall of the Dead, time seemed to stretch in its warm tranquility. Candlelight flickered, the aroma of tea filled the air, and the moonlight of Liyue Harbor streamed silently outside the window. In this carefully guarded tranquility, a silver-gray cat rested against the girl's forehead, purring softly and contentedly. It was as if, in a dream, she had found a place where she could completely relax and trust.