Genshin Impact: I Am a Slime

"No, I just thought of something happy."

Famas smiled gently and glanced at Zhongli inconspicuously.

"What's so worthy of your happiness?"

Paimon rubbed his chin with his fingers suspiciously, and Tartaglia also walked in with Tok. When he saw Zhongli, Venti, and FAMAS gathered together, he couldn't help but blink.

It turns out that the gods' days are really leisurely.

Tartaglia recalled the scene when he met Zhongli here a few days ago.

By then he had received news that Pantalone was about to go to Liyue to settle the debt.

Although Piero stipulated that the officers should not harm each other, Tartaglia decided to find a hiding place in advance to avoid a face-to-face encounter with Pantalone.

After all, he directly intercepted the final fruits of Osel's plan.

If they want to avoid Pantalone and Signora's pursuit, they must not go through the channels of the Fatui, which means that the safe house set up by Zhidong in Liyue cannot be used.

After some hard thinking, Tartaglia finally remembered the Munata fighter he met last time when he was collecting debts, and his residence hidden in the corner of Tianheng Mountain.

That house is surrounded by mountains, topped by cliffs, and seldom visited by people. Isn't it a perfect hiding place?

So after the war, Tartaglia followed the route in her memory and came to Marcus' retreat.

There were still traces of a fight from the last debt collection in front of the tile-roofed house. When he pushed open the creaking wooden door, a thin layer of dust had already accumulated in the house. A half-broken boxing glove was hanging on a spider web in the corner, and there were still charred pages of a debt contract left in the fireplace.

A new grave had been built in the backyard at some point, with two intertwined broken guns stuck next to it.

Although there was no identifiable information left on the grave, Tartaglia always felt that this grave was related to the Munata fighter.

He was just staying in someone else's house temporarily. The dead were the most important, so he naturally would not touch the grave.

"I'll stay here for a few days. Sorry to bother you."

At that time, Tartaglia nodded slightly towards the grave, and the Eye of the Water Elemental God on his waist glowed faintly.

In addition, the young warrior also tried to repair the houses damaged by the battle, but he was obviously not very good at this kind of constructive work.

The nails that were hit crooked by the hammer caused wood chips to fly. Tartaglia wiped the sweat from his forehead and smiled bitterly at the wooden wall that was crooked like a patch. In the end, he just hastily swept away the debris and dirt in the gaps between the bricks, blocked the leaking roof with the flag of the Fatui, and then moved in.

As night fell, the executive officer lay on the creaking bamboo couch in his clothes, and from time to time the drumbeats of the Qiuqiu people's sacrificial ceremonies could be heard from the distant wild forest.

Looking at the crumbling spider webs on the beams, Dadalia always felt that this dilapidated house was more reassuring than the magnificent guest rooms of the Northland Bank.

The executive officer settled here afterwards, and even dug out the fitness equipment that Marcus didn't take away from the ruins in the corner of the house, and repaired it and made it usable again.

Until three days later.

Dadalia, who had gotten up early for exercise, had chopped firewood in the front yard. As he was carrying the pile of firewood around the eaves and heading to the backyard, he saw a figure with gilded patterns standing in front of the bluestone tomb.

It was Zhongli who had escaped from Liyue Harbor.

The retired Prince Yan lowered his eyes and faced the grave in silence, his fingertips stroking the rusty edge of the broken gun, startling three or two blue-feathered tits perched on the gun handle.

"Mr. Zhongli, do you know this tomb owner?"

The executor's boots crushed half a dead leaf, and the firewood pile fell to the stone steps. Zhongli's appearance did not surprise Tartaglia. He had completed his mission in Liyue long ago, and now he was hiding here, not only to avoid being hunted down, but also to see Zhongli again.

After all, the other party had promised him that they would chat with him late into the night and travel to Liyue again.

"Yes, this person has a strong will, which is rare in the secular world. It's a pity that his path is different from mine, and he is more of an enemy than a friend to Liyue."

Zhongli sighed, and when he turned around, an oil-paper bundle appeared in his palm. "This is the conditioning prescription prescribed by Bubu Lu. It will help recover from the injuries caused by overusing elemental power."

Tartaglia raised an eyebrow as he watched the other party take out the package like a magic trick, and simply sat down cross-legged against the firewood pile. The evil eye pendant on his waist resonated with the broken gun and emitted a fine red light: "Thank you for your kindness, Mr. Zhongli, I don't need..."

"I have asked Mr. Bai many times to adjust the prescription. This prescription tastes sweet, not bitter."

Zhong Kai interrupted Tartaglia's refusal and walked up to the young man. He didn't mind the wood chips on the ground and sat down like an executive. The copper bell on the eaves was rang by the morning breeze.

"It goes perfectly with the smoky aroma of freshly chopped pinewood."

Tartaglia was surprised at first, then he burst into laughter.

Although Zhongli didn't understand why the other party was laughing, he still picked up some firewood, carried his bag to the woodshed to boil the prescription.

The sound of pine waves spread over the collapsed courtyard wall, and the newly grown glazed lilies in front of the grave stretched out in the wind.

When Zhongli came out with the steaming medicine soup, Tartaglia had already lit a fire in the backyard.

The Tianheng mountain forest in the morning dew can almost be described as bleak and cold.

While waiting for the medicine in the bowl to cool down, the two chatted dryly. They talked about the whale bone wind chimes in the Everfrost Port of the Kingdom of Winter, the unreached contract in the depths of the Abyss, and the Eye of God that was wet in a rainstorm.

When the medicine soup cooled down a little, Tartaglia prepared to pour all the liquid into his throat without hesitation. Unexpectedly, the medicine was not bitter at all, but even sweet to the point of being sickening, causing the young executive officer to suddenly choke and cough:

"Back at the Northland Bank, did you deliberately give me the Heart of God?"

Zhongli stroked the ring on his thumb, and his amber earrings swayed with a smile: "The Fatui's executive officers have different personalities, some like to use tricks, and some like to use force to subdue people, but it is rare to see a pure heart like yours."

The wood thrown into the campfire splashed a few sparks, and Zhongli suddenly fell silent as he watched the flames fade away.

"Famas once told me a joke, saying that the Munata under his rule was like a dilapidated house with leaks on all sides. As long as someone kicked the door lightly..."

Zhongli played hard to get, and seemed to really think there was something to this joke. The corners of his mouth curved slightly, "The people in the house will rush out and beat him up."

"In my eyes, today's Fatui are just like this house. I just hope you won't make the same mistakes in the future."

Not sure if she didn't understand the metaphor in Zhongli's words, or if he was really sincere, but Tartaglia smiled without responding. She raised her head and drank the last half bowl of medicine. The flags of the Fools on the eaves fluttered in the wind.

In the distance, the sound of hill people's drums was faint, dew was dripping from the beams and spider webs, and the dying firewood stretched two shadows very long.

After that, Zhongli and Tartaglia moved into the house that once belonged to Marcus. Tartaglia practiced martial arts diligently and was responsible for cooking their daily meals. Zhongli would occasionally give some pointers, but most of the time he was drinking tea and playing the piano.

Tartaglia often wishes that days like this could last longer, but every meeting is destined to end in separation.

For example, the uninvited FAMAS, WENDY and the travelers. (End of this chapter)