A Honkai: Zhongli x Star Rail

Zhongli had always believed in the permanence of contracts—the unshakable laws that bound all things to their due course.

Yet, as he gazed out the large window of the Astral Express, staring into the vast expanse of space, he was forced to acknowledge something unsettling.

This world—no, this universe—was beyond anything he had known. Teyvat, with its gods, its people, and its history, had seemed vast in its own right. But this? This was existence on a scale he had never before contemplated.

Stars burned in the distant void, their celestial glow illuminating the inky darkness beyond. The train glided forward, riding along unseen cosmic pathways, its hum resonating in his bones.

For the first time in eons, Zhongli felt small.

A quiet shuffle of footsteps pulled him from his thoughts.

"Couldn't sleep?"

Zhongli turned to see Welt Yang standing nearby, hands tucked into his coat pockets. His silver hair caught the soft lighting of the cabin, giving him a timeless air, one Zhongli found familiar.

"I do not require as much rest as most," Zhongli admitted.

Welt gave a knowing nod. "A habit from an immortal life, perhaps?"

Zhongli's golden eyes flickered with something unreadable, but he did not refute the statement. He had long since cast aside the title of Morax, yet remnants of his divine nature still shaped his mannerisms.

Welt walked closer, his gaze shifting to the stars outside. "I won't pry into your origins, but I recognize the look in your eyes. You are a man displaced—one who carries the weight of history."

Zhongli studied him. There was wisdom in Welt's words, the kind that only came from one who had lived through the rise and fall of civilizations.

"Do you truly believe that fate brought me here?" Zhongli asked.

Welt chuckled. "Fate? Maybe or maybe the universe has a way of choosing those who are meant to shape its course."

Zhongli exhaled slowly. "A comforting thought."

Before the conversation could continue, the overhead intercom crackled to life.

"Attention, crew! We'll be arriving at our next destination soon! Please gather in the parlor car for mission briefing!"

It was Himeko's voice, warm yet commanding.

Welt adjusted his glasses. "Seems we'll be seeing action sooner than expected."

Zhongli nodded. "Then let us see what this path holds."

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The Mission Briefing

The parlor car was a cozy, well-furnished space with a central holographic projector displaying a spinning image of a planet. Around the table sat the core members of the Astral Express crew—Himeko, Dan Heng, March 7th, and Welt.

Zhongli took his seat, folding his hands neatly before him. His posture remained relaxed, but his mind was sharp, absorbing every detail.

Himeko tapped the interface, and the projection zoomed in, showing a planet half-consumed by darkness.

"Welcome to our next stop: Xianzhou Yaochi."

Dan Heng visibly tensed. "…Another Xianzhou ship?"

Himeko nodded grimly. "It was a sister vessel to the Xianzhou Luofu—but it was lost centuries ago. We picked up a distress signal, meaning someone or something is still active down there."

March frowned. "And let me guess—the problem is a Stellaron?"

"Most likely."

Zhongli observed the projection closely. "What manner of civilization inhabits this place?"

Dan Heng answered. "The Xianzhou Alliance is made up of long-lived beings known as Vidyadhara and Cloudford natives—many of whom are functionally immortal. But the Yaochi was believed to have been destroyed during a conflict with the Abundance."

Zhongli arched a brow. "Immortal beings and an empire spanning the stars… intriguing."

Welt crossed his arms. "Regardless, our goal is to locate the distress signal and assess the situation. If a Stellaron is involved, we'll neutralize it."

Zhongli considered the information. He had witnessed countless civilizations rise and fall. If this Xianzhou Yaochi was truly a relic of the past, then what awaited them down there?

And more importantly—why did he feel a faint resonance from the name itself?

Himeko stood, adjusting her gloves. "We'll arrive in an hour. Gear up, everyone."

Zhongli rose as well, his expression calm yet resolute. "Then let us tread carefully. The past rarely rests quietly."

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Descent to the Xianzhou Yaochi

The moment Zhongli stepped off the Express and onto the ruined surface of the Yaochi, a familiar sensation flooded his being.

The weight of history pressed down on this place.

Tall, ivory structures lay in ruin, vines and crystalline growths creeping over once-pristine architecture. Strange floating sigils hummed faintly in the air, remnants of a lost era. The air was thick with the scent of incense and decay, a contrast that unsettled even Zhongli's practiced composure.

"…This place feels like a tomb," March muttered, shivering.

Dan Heng's grip on his weapon tightened. "Stay alert."

Zhongli took slow, deliberate steps forward, running a gloved hand over the smooth stone of a fallen pillar. The engravings—though unfamiliar—held an undeniable sense of artistry and reverence.

A forgotten empire, left to rot.

Himeko adjusted her scanner. "The distress signal should be coming from the central archives."

As they moved through the ruins, Zhongli felt it again—that resonance. It was faint, buried beneath layers of time, but unmistakable.

He knew this feeling.

It was the same as when he walked the oldest halls of Liyue, where the contracts of past millennia still lingered in the stone.

The weight of something ancient pressed upon them.

Then—

A voice echoed through the ruins.

"…Who dares disturb the slumber of the Yaochi?"

The air grew heavy. The sigils around them flared to life, casting eerie, golden light upon the shattered ground.

Zhongli's eyes sharpened.

They were not alone.

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Chapter 3 Preview: The Guardian of the Past

A forgotten empire.

A lost civilization.

And an ancient being who remembers it all.

As the Astral Express crew delves deeper into the ruins of the Xianzhou Yaochi, Zhongli comes face to face with a guardian of the past—one who may hold the key to why he was brought to this universe.

But the echoes of history are never without consequence.

And the past does not always welcome the living.

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Author's Note: ◉⁠‿⁠◉