The conversation under the stars had changed something, settling a new kind of quiet between them. It was not a silence of distance, but one of shared understanding. Ren had offered a small, fragmented piece of his impossible truth, and the ancient adeptus had accepted it without question, holding it as carefully as one might hold a shard of glaze lily porcelain. He felt the shift in the air the next morning, a subtle current of change in the mountain's timeless atmosphere.
He awoke to the gentle warmth of the morning sun on his face and the familiar, crisp scent of mountain air. He stretched his small limbs, a soft yawn escaping his lips, and sat up. Usually, his mornings began with the distant, majestic silhouette of a giant crane standing sentinel at the peak's edge. Today, that silhouette was gone.
In its place, standing by the stone table with a steaming ceramic cup in her hand, was a woman.
She was tall and elegant, with a bearing that was no less regal for being in a mortal form. Her hair was a cascade of dark, olive-green silk, tied back in an intricate style that was both practical and beautiful. A pair of striking red glasses, framed in what looked like dark wood, were perched on her nose. She wore a tailored Liyue-style outfit in shades of dark olive and black, accented with gold, that spoke of quiet authority and refined taste. Her presence was just as immense as it was in her crane form, but it was now condensed, focused into a human frame. It was less overwhelming, but somehow more intense.
Ren froze for a moment, his heart giving a single, hard thump in his chest. But there was no fear. He knew, with an instinct that went deeper than sight, who this was. The same ancient, powerful, and strangely comforting aura surrounded her. He could feel it in the air, a hum of contained adeptal energy.
She turned her head, and her eyes, the same sharp, intelligent gold as the crane's, met his. A small, almost imperceptible smile touched her lips.
"Good morning, Ren," her voice was the same, that clear, resonant tone he had come to know so well, though it now emanated directly from her, making it feel more personal, more intimate. "One trusts you slept well."
He scrambled to his feet, his oversized sleeping tunic trailing behind him, and approached her slowly. He stopped a few feet away, his head tilted back to look up at her. The world felt very different when his guardian wasn't a towering avian deity.
"Master?" he asked, his voice soft with awe.
"Indeed," she confirmed, taking a delicate sip from her cup. "This one has determined that a bipedal form offers certain efficiencies for manual tasks and instruction. Furthermore, it is a less… conspicuous form, should we ever need to descend from this peak. When one appears as such, you may refer to one by the name Xianyun."
She said it with a clinical detachment, as if she were explaining the mechanics of a gear, but Ren understood the gesture for what it was. She was closing the distance between them, meeting him on a more equal footing. She was showing him another side of herself, trusting him with a different name, a different face.
He beamed, a smile of such pure, radiant delight that Xianyun found herself momentarily needing to adjust her glasses. "Xianyun," he tested the name on his tongue. It felt strange. "I think… I will still call you Master. If that's alright."
A flicker of something warm and pleased passed through her golden eyes. "As you wish," she said, her tone softening. "The designation remains accurate. Now, come. Your lessons for today will be of a more… practical nature."
She turned and led him not to the stone table, but towards a part of the mountain he had never approached before. A smooth, flat rock face that seemed unremarkable, but as she drew near, she raised a slender hand and pressed it against the stone. Intricate, glowing blue lines spread out from her fingertips like cracks in ice, forming a complex geometric pattern. With a low hum, a section of the rock dissolved into shimmering particles of light, revealing a circular opening.
"Welcome, Ren," she said, stepping through the portal, "to this one's workshop."
Ren followed, his eyes widening with every step. The interior was a cavernous space that was far larger than the mountain peak should have been able to contain, a testament to adeptal space-bending arts. The air hummed with a quiet, contained power. Strange contraptions, half-finished and gleaming with polished metal and glowing crystals, stood on workbenches. Blueprints were not on paper, but hung in the air as shimmering, three-dimensional projections of light that slowly rotated. Shelves carved into the stone walls were filled with a dizzying array of materials—rare ores that pulsed with a faint inner light, strange mechanical components, and jars containing luminous, swirling liquids.
It was a place of impossible wonders, a fusion of magic and engineering that made Ren's heart race with excitement. His memories of a world filled with technology didn't diminish the spectacle; they enhanced it. He could appreciate the sheer genius at play, the way she used elemental energy to power mechanisms that his former world could only dream of.
"You will remain here," Xianyun's voice cut through his awe. She pointed to a spot on the floor a safe distance from the nearest workbench. With a gesture, she drew a circle of glowing blue light on the stone around him. "Do not, under any circumstances, step outside of this perimeter. Many of these inventions are… temperamental. The safety of a disciple is a master's responsibility, and this one does not appreciate irresponsible disciples."
Her tone was stern, but her actions spoke of a deep-seated concern that warmed him from the inside out. He nodded eagerly, his messy black-and-blue hair bobbing. "Yes, Master. I promise."
He sat down cross-legged within the glowing circle, his small hands resting on his knees, and watched. It was like having a front-row seat to the creation of magic. Xianyun—his Master—moved with a focused grace, her long fingers dancing over components with practiced ease. She would pick up a gear that floated in mid-air, consult a shimmering blueprint, and then with a whisper of adeptal power, fuse it to a complex framework. Sparks of Anemo energy would fly, not with chaotic danger, but with controlled precision.
Ren was completely captivated. He didn't make a sound, he didn't fidget. He just watched, his glowing azure eyes absorbing every detail. He watched her calibrate a series of lenses that bent light in impossible ways. He watched her weave threads of pure energy into a power conduit. He saw things that reminded him of circuitry and engines, but powered by crystals and inscribed with glowing runes instead of wires and fuel.
After a long while, Xianyun paused, setting down a tool that looked like a cross between a wrench and a magic wand. She glanced over at him, expecting to see a child who had long since grown bored and restless. Instead, she found him in the exact same position, his gaze fixed on her work with an unwavering, intelligent curiosity.
"You are surprisingly attentive," she remarked, a note of approval in her voice.
"It's amazing, Master," Ren breathed, his eyes sparkling. "How do you make the parts stick together without getting them hot?"
It was a simple, childish question, but it showed he was truly observing. He wasn't just seeing magic; he was seeing a process.
A rare, genuine smile graced Xianyun's features. It transformed her normally stern face, making her look younger and softer. "Adeptal energy is a versatile tool, Ren. It can bind, shape, and animate. It is not crude like the forges of mortals that rely on simple heat. It is a language, and one is simply… instructing the components to join."
She found herself walking over to the edge of his safety circle, crouching down to be closer to his level. She began to explain the basic principles, translating impossibly complex adeptal mechanics into concepts a child could grasp. She spoke of energy flows like rivers, of resonant frequencies like musical notes, of runes as the grammar of creation.
And Ren understood. A part of him, the lingering echo of a man who had studied engineering, grasped the logic. The other part, the curious child, was simply enchanted. He would ask another question, and then another, each one surprisingly insightful. His childlike wonder was a catalyst, unlocking a part of Xianyun that had been dormant for centuries—the patient, dedicated teacher. She found herself enjoying it, taking pride in the way his eyes would light up with comprehension.
The sun began to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows across the workshop floor, when Xianyun finally stood up. Hours had passed in what felt like minutes.
"That is enough for one day," she declared, her voice softer than usual. "The principles of adeptal engineering are not to be absorbed in a single session."
She dispelled the glowing circle with a wave of her hand. Ren scrambled to his feet, his legs a little stiff. He ran to her side, and without thinking, his small hand slipped into her larger one. It was a simple, instinctive gesture of a child seeking comfort and closeness from a parent.
Xianyun froze for a fraction of a second, her hand rigid in his grasp. Her gaze fell upon their joined hands—his, small, soft, and radiating a gentle warmth; hers, slender, strong, and unaccustomed to such casual contact. A complex cascade of emotions washed over her—surprise, uncertainty, and a powerful, undeniable wave of protective affection.
Slowly, deliberately, her fingers curled, closing gently around his. His hand was so small, so fragile in her own. She had built machines capable of leveling mountains, but at that moment, her entire world seemed to shrink, focusing on the simple, profound weight of a child's trust.
"Come," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "It is time for dinner."