The days in the workshop settled into a rhythm of gentle discovery. Ren proved to be an exceptionally quick study, his mind a strange and perfect fusion of a child's boundless curiosity and an adult's latent grasp of logic. He would watch his Master work, and his questions, while phrased with a child's simplicity, would often cut to the very heart of a mechanical principle. Xianyun found herself explaining concepts she had not needed to put into words for centuries, and in doing so, she saw her own craft through new, wondrous eyes.
Yet, a seed of concern had been planted in her heart, and it was beginning to sprout. She would watch Ren as he sat at the edge of the peak, his small legs dangling over a sea of clouds, humming a tuneless little song. He was happy, he was safe, he was learning. But his entire world consisted of one mountain and one adeptus.
Her mind drifted to her other children. To Ganyu, half-qilin, half-human, forever caught between two worlds, her adeptal upbringing making her socially awkward and lonely amongst the very people she dedicated her life to protecting. She thought of Shenhe, a human child she had raised out of necessity, whose violent homicidal urges had to be bound by red ropes, isolating her from humanity to keep both her and others safe. She had raised them in seclusion, focusing on survival and duty. She had protected them, but she had also isolated them.
She looked at Ren, a being of pure, unadulterated innocence with a strange, old soul lurking behind his glowing eyes. He was not cursed like Shenhe. He was not a half-adeptus like Ganyu. He was, as his chosen name declared, human. To keep him isolated on this mountain would be a disservice. It would be a repeat of her past mistakes.
"Ren," she said, her voice cutting through the quiet afternoon air. He turned to look at her, his azure eyes blinking in the sunlight. "This one has concluded that your education is incomplete. Knowledge of adeptal arts and Liyue's history is essential, but an understanding of its present, of its people, is equally vital. Your world cannot remain this single peak."
Ren's eyes widened. "We're going somewhere?"
"We are," Xianyun confirmed, a faint, determined light in her golden eyes. "Soon, we will visit Liyue Harbor. It is the bustling heart of this nation, a city of commerce and contracts. It is important that you see it, that you understand the world this one and the other adepti have sworn to protect."
A brilliant smile spread across his face, one of pure, unbridled excitement. "The Harbor? Really? Like in the stories you told me?"
"Precisely. However," she added, raising a single, slender finger, "before we venture into the world of mortals, there are… introductions to be made. You are under my protection, but this one is not the only guardian of these sacred mountains. It is prudent that my fellow adepti are made aware of your existence. Should you ever find yourself lost in these lands, you will not be a stranger to them."
Her stated reason was logical and sound. The unspoken reason was far more maternal. She wanted them to see him, to feel the same strange, protective pull that he exerted so effortlessly. She wanted them to know that this small, precious child was now a part of Jueyun Karst. If she were to be occupied by something, he would not be left alone.
The preparation was simple. Xianyun packed a small satchel with a waterskin and some sunsettias. She, of course, was in her human form, her long olive hair tied back for travel. Ren was dressed in a new tunic she had made, a soft blue that matched the stripes in his hair.
When it was time to leave, Ren looked around, expecting to walk down the winding, treacherous mountain paths. Instead, Xianyun simply knelt before him.
"The journey by foot would be unnecessarily arduous and time-consuming," she stated. With a fluid grace, she scooped him into her arms. It was not a simple lift; she cradled him against her chest, one arm securely under his legs, the other supporting his back. He was held like something infinitely precious and fragile. A princess carry. Ren's cheeks flushed a light pink, but he didn't protest. He simply wrapped his small arms around her neck, feeling an overwhelming sense of safety and warmth.
"Hold tight," was all she said.
She took a single step off the edge of the mountain peak.
Ren's stomach lurched, but a scream never left his lips. They did not fall. A powerful, visible current of Anemo energy, a shimmering turquoise green, swelled around them, catching them, lifting them. The wind whipped past, but a gentle, invisible barrier shielded him from its force, leaving only a pleasant, rushing breeze. The world fell away beneath them.
It was flying. True, untethered flight.
A gasp of pure, unadulterated joy escaped him. He looked down, and the familiar landscape of Mt. Aocang became a patch on a vast, green-and-gold quilt. The mountains, which had seemed like giants, were now just jagged wrinkles on the skin of the earth. He could see the whole of Jueyun Karst spread out below, a breathtaking vista of stone pillars, misty valleys, and shimmering waterfalls that snaked through the peaks like silver ribbons. It was a beauty that the game, for all its artistry, had only ever been able to hint at. He laughed, a sound of pure, childish delight that was carried away by the wind.
Xianyun looked down at the boy in her arms. His messy hair was being tousled by the breeze, and his glowing azure eyes were wide with a wonder so profound it was almost tangible. He was not afraid. He was ecstatic. Seeing his joy, feeling his small body tremble with excitement in her arms, solidified the rightness of her decision. A small, genuine smile touched her lips as she adjusted her course, soaring through the air with the speed and grace of a falcon.
Their first destination was Qingyun Peak, the highest point in all of Liyue. Xianyun landed at its bass as gently as a falling leaf on the central stone platform. In the center of the platform stood a majestic, deer-like creature, its antlers like ancient, gnarled trees. Its fur was the color of dusk, and its eyes held the wisdom of ages. This was Moon Carver.
His deep, resonant voice, which seemed to emanate from the very stone beneath their feet, echoed across the peak. "Cloud Retainer. It has been some time since you graced this peak with your presence. And you come in mortal form… with a mortal child."
His gaze fell upon Ren, who was now standing beside Xianyun, still a little dizzy from the flight. The adeptus's eyes were ancient and probing, holding a stern authority that would have sent most mortals to their knees in terror.
Xianyun inclined her head respectfully. "Moon Carver. This one has come to make an introduction. This child is Ren. He appeared on Mt. Aocang some weeks ago, with no memory and no home. He is… under my care now."
Moon Carver's gaze remained fixed on Ren. The child did not flinch or hide. He simply looked back, his luminous eyes wide with a polite curiosity, not fear. He offered the great adeptus a small, respectful bow, just as he had seen characters do in the game.
"A mortal child," Moon Carver repeated, his voice rumbling. "The mountains are no place for one so fragile. Their lives are like the morning mist, present for a moment, then gone. Why have you burdened yourself with such a fleeting creature?"
"His origins are an enigma, and his nature is… unique," Xianyun replied, her voice firm, a subtle warning in her tone. "One has determined that he will remain. I bring him here so that you will know his face. He is one of us now."
The declaration hung in the thin mountain air. One of us. It was a bold statement, claiming a place for a mortal child amongst the ancient, divine guardians of Liyue.
Moon Carver was silent for a long moment, his ancient mind processing the information. He lowered his great head, his antlers framing Ren's small form. "Step forward, child."
Ren looked to Xianyun for a brief moment, who gave him a subtle, reassuring nod. He took a few steps forward, stopping directly before the towering adeptus.
"What do you see in these mountains, little one?" Moon Carver's voice was softer now, a low rumble of inquiry.
Ren looked around. He looked at the swirling clouds below, at the intricate patterns on the stone, at the stoic, ancient face of the deer-god before him. He didn't try to give a clever answer. He simply spoke the truth of his new heart.
"They're quiet," he said, his voice soft but clear. "And they feel very old. And… they feel safe."
The simplicity and sincerity of the answer seemed to surprise the ancient being. He had expected a child's fear, or perhaps a mortal's greed, looking for some hidden treasure. He had not expected a simple, profound appreciation for the mountains' true nature. He looked into the boy's glowing azure eyes and saw no deceit, no guile. Only a startling, disarming innocence.
A low, slow sound, like the shifting of tectonic plates, rumbled from Moon Carver's chest. It was the adeptal equivalent of a thoughtful hum.
"Hmph. You have your Master's eye for observation," he stated, which from him, was high praise. He raised his head and looked at Xianyun. "Very well. This one will know his face. If he wanders to this peak, he will find sanctuary. But see that you teach him well, Cloud Retainer. A kind heart is a fragile shield in a world of sharp edges."
"This one intends to," Xianyun replied, a wave of relief washing over her.
Their next stop was Mt. Hulao, a landscape of towering amber pillars. There, perched on a high precipice, was another crane, its form proud and its feathers the color of mountain stone and snow. This was Mountain Shaper.
His reaction was less inquisitive and more territorial. "Cloud Retainer! You disturb the tranquility of this place. And you bring… a noisy fledgling?" his voice was sharp, like the crack of a stone.
Once again, Xianyun explained the situation, her tone formal and unwavering. Mountain Shaper listened, his sharp eyes never leaving Ren, who was looking around in absolute awe at the massive chunks of amber, some of which had perfectly preserved insects trapped within them from millennia ago.
While the two adepti spoke, Ren wandered closer to a large amber pillar, his eyes tracing the patterns within. He reached out a small hand, his fingers gently touching the smooth, warm surface.
"Do not touch that!" Mountain Shaper's voice cracked like a whip. "The amber of Mt. Hulao is a record of time itself, not a plaything for a child!"
Ren immediately pulled his hand back, his eyes wide. He wasn't scared, but he looked apologetic. He turned to the great crane and bowed his head slightly. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be disrespectful. It's just… it's so beautiful. It looks like it's holding sunshine inside."
The sheer, unadulterated sincerity of his admiration gave Mountain Shaper pause. This was not the destructive curiosity of a mortal child. It was a quiet, genuine reverence. The crane adeptus looked from the boy's awestruck face to the amber he so cherished, and saw his home reflected in the child's glowing eyes.
"…Hmph," Mountain Shaper huffed, turning his head slightly. "It is… an acceptable aesthetic quality. See that you do not leave fingerprints." He then looked to Xianyun. "The child is quiet. Not as disruptive as one feared. This one… will tolerate his presence in these lands. Your judgment, Cloud Retainer, is as peculiar as ever, but this one will not dispute it."
It was another victory. As they departed Mt. Hulao, soaring back into the evening sky, Ren was sleepy, his head resting against Xianyun's shoulder. He had met two more of Liyue's gods and had, in his own small, quiet way, won them over.
Xianyun looked down at the trusting, peaceful face of the boy in her arms. She felt the weight of her fellow adepti's acceptance settling comfortably in her heart. She had built a wider circle of safety for him, a net held by ancient, powerful hands. He was no longer just her little enigma. He was Ren of Jueyun Karst.