It had been six months since Furina, former Hydro Archon of Fontaine, packed her wardrobe, arranged her entourage, announced her departure in the middle of a theater gala, and boarded her custom-built gondola with the same flair she used to pass judgment.
The reason? A vacation.
Not a diplomatic visit. Not an exile. A vacation, and one she believed, loudly, was as she quotes "long overdue for a woman of my immense cultural influence." After centuries behind Fontaine's polished curtain of law and spectacle, she had grown worn out. Tired of trials, of divine facades, of constantly performing the part of a god whose time had passed.
She wanted something different. Something human. She just... didn't quite know how to ask for it.
And so, her first stop was Liyue.
A land of mountains that moved, contracts that outlasted kings, and ancient warriors who walked among mortals like half-forgotten poems. Furina had read about Liyue in operas and merchant catalogs. She imagined it full of wise sages, noodle stalls on every corner, and hopefully at least one brooding immortal bachelor with a tragic backstory. If not, she would settle for lovely jewelry and steamed buns.
The wind whipped at her veil as her mechanical gondola spun elegantly across the harbor waters. The vessel, specially crafted with assistance from Neuvillette and a very confused Fontainian engineer, was sleek and overly ornate. Carved silver filigree ran along its sides like embroidery, while hydro-turbines shimmered beneath the hull. It moved not with brute propulsion but with a sort of performative grace, twirling just enough to make an entrance.
She stood at the bow, hand on hip, her ensemble catching the early light: a cheongsam-inspired gown dyed in deep azure and white, with gold embroidery shaped like stylized cranes. Long, impractical shoulder sashes floated behind her like twin river banners. She had spent days tailoring this dress to look "culturally informed," though she hadn't read a single Liyue fashion manual past the illustrations.
And flanking her, carrying mountains of luggage, were her loyal companions:
* Gentilhomme Usher—a blue-hued octopus construct, wearing a top hat and bow tie, its delicate tentacles balancing two leather trunks, a parasol, and what looked like a travel tea set.
* Surintendante Chevalmarin—a slender, translucent seahorse with fluttering fins and pearl earrings, frantically trying to levitate a tower of hat boxes with its curled tail.
* Mademoiselle Crabaletta—a squat armored crab creature with frilly cuffs, an umbrella strapped to her shell, and a fierce dedication to ensuring every piece of luggage was carried with elegance.
The gondola's hydraulic legs gently tapped onto the wooden dock with a hiss of steam, and the harbor came into view.
Liyue Harbor greeted her with layered rooftops glowing gold beneath the late afternoon sun, boats drifting lazily between shipping cranes, and market vendors calling out dumpling specials in melodic, practiced shouts. Sails fluttered in the breeze. Bells chimed gently over a stone pagoda. It smelled of salt, spices, and fresh ink.
Furina inhaled deeply and grinned. "Finally. Civilization."
A port official spotted the incoming spectacle and stiffened.
The gondola's ramp extended like the tongue of a dragon. Furina stepped off with a graceful twirl, her heels clacking against the polished planks. Her attendants waddled, floated, and scuttled behind her, each dragging luxury luggage as if it were the most ordinary task in Teyvat.
A clipboard-holding port officer, in their mid-thirties and visibly alarmed, approached with the cautious energy of someone forced to handle situations well above their pay grade.
"Excuse me, miss—?" she began.
Furina held out a velvet-gloved hand. "Bonjour!~ I am Furina, Lady of Fontaine, Curator of Culture, and Former Hydro Archon. I come in peace, in style, and in search of dumplings."
The officer blinked once. "...You're here... on vacation?"
"Yes. I bring no entourage save my faithful assistants and three dozen suitcases. I've left all divine obligations behind in favor of leisure, enlightenment, and, if possible, a guided tour. With refreshments."
The woman looked down at her paperwork, then back up at the former Archon now posing in front of a crowd that had quietly begun to gather.
"Right," the officer muttered. "I'll… I'll need you to fill out this traveler's registry."
"Already done, darling." Furina handed her a scroll, a glittering signature scrawled in elaborate fountain ink, followed by a coin pouch so full it jingled apologetically.
And just like that, she was off: sash fluttering, heels clicking, three living water creatures dragging her absurd wealth through a crowded, increasingly curious harbor.
Within five minutes, she had caused minor traffic delays, sparked a heated fashion debate among merchant wives, and brought three street performers to a stunned halt mid-act.
She waltzed past a startled incense vendor and locked eyes with a well-dressed woman in a pale jade qipao admiring a display of hairpins. Furina stopped immediately.
"You! You have flawless taste. That stitching is graceful yet understated. Delicate pattern, bold neckline. I approve."
The woman smiled, a little startled. "Why, thank you. Yours is... certainly creative."
Furina beamed, twirling once for effect. "Custom design. A hybrid fusion of traditional Liyuen courtwear and Fontainian aristocratic drama. I call it 'Lotus at the Opera.' The veil is detachable."
Several nearby shoppers murmured as Furina gestured proudly to her floating procession of fashion, loyal companions, and belongings.
One child pointed at Mademoiselle Crabaletta, who was grumpily clicking her claws at uneven cobblestone and glaring at a pigeon. The child laughed. The pigeon fled.
Another woman whispered to her husband, "Is that the Hydro Archon?"
"No, no," he said. "She retired, remember? I think she's an actress now."
Furina paused at a silk stall to admire a bolt of emerald cloth. Chevalmarin tried to float up and hand her a folding mirror but fumbled the grip, sending a hatbox tumbling into a barrel of tangerines.
The stall owner stared.
Furina merely winked. "It's a statement piece. Tangerine silk is very en vogue."
She moved through the harbor like a minor storm: harmless, disruptive, and impossible to ignore. But beneath her dazzling smile and the performance of joy, something else churned quietly.
She wasn't just here for scenery. Or dumplings. Or flirting with immortals.
She was looking for something she couldn't name. Something the courtroom and opera house no longer gave her. Not admiration. Not applause. Something smaller. Quieter.
Perhaps it would be in Liyue.
Perhaps not.
But she had to try.
And as she passed under the great archway leading toward the upper markets, leaving a trail of glittering water prints and stunned citizens in her wake, a port official sprinted back toward the Yuehai Pavilion, waving her clipboard and breathlessly shouting:
"We have a problem. A... very fashionable problem."
If there was one thing Ganyu prided herself on, it was structure.
She had built her life on calendars, timeblocks, and daily checklists segmented into meticulous slivers:
5:30 AM herbal tea
6:00 AM review harbor permits
7:00 AM merchant dispute arbitration
8:30 AM listen to Keqing suggest she take a break, which she would absolutely not do.
9:00 AM process trader applications.
Everything had its place.
So when a harbor officer barged into her office at Yuehai Pavilion, sweating, winded, and waving a clipboard like it was on fire, Ganyu was already bracing for the worst.
"Ganyu! Ganyu!"
She looked up mid-stamp. "Yes?"
The officer doubled over. "Docks. Situation. Urgent. May involve… possible diplomatic incident. Also fashion?"
Ganyu blinked. "Fashion?"
"Just…just come!"
Sighing, she gently placed the final approval stamp on a tea shipment invoice and stood. Her horns glinted faintly under the soft scroll-lantern light. Two of her junior assistants exchanged nervous glances as they joined her. When Ganyu rose from her seat, it was rarely for anything casual.
As they descended from the pavilion steps, she murmured to herself, "Maybe Xianyun was right. I should have taken the afternoon off."
She was supposed to meet with her at Qingyun Peak—a short, simple visit, nothing more. Something to do with Shenhe's upcoming birthday. Ganyu had meant to go.
She always meant to go.
But there was always paperwork.
Meanwhile, back at the docks, chaos had evolved into something more theatrical.
Furina had become the center of a semi-circle of stunned vendors, mildly offended elders, and increasingly enchanted young women. All of whom were captivated by her grand gestures, cascading hair, and wardrobe that sparkled aggressively in the sunlight.
Across from her stood a girl around nineteen, dark-skinned with amber eyes and shoulder-length brown hair, dressed in a practical fisherwoman's outfit with finely embroidered cuffs. She tilted her head as she inspected Furina's dress.
"So you're sayin' that's what they wear in Fontaine? Real fancy up there, huh?" she asked in a Liyuen dialect tinged with northern twang.
Furina placed a hand on her hip and tossed her curls. "Oh, darling, this is barely fancy. I'm practically slumming it today."
The girl giggled. "Well, I'll be. You look like a chandelier that grew legs and learned to flirt."
"I shall take that as a compliment!" Furina declared, spinning once as Mademoiselle Crabaletta snapped a claw in approval.
Older women nearby exchanged confused looks.
"I thought Fontaine was supposed to be refined," muttered one.
"I think this is refined. For Fontaine," whispered another.
Meanwhile, Gentilhomme Usher passed around perfumed handkerchiefs to curious teens, and Chevalmarin, ever nervous, tried to levitate a mirror while avoiding curious cats.
And then Ganyu arrived.
She stepped onto the edge of the plaza, flanked by her two subordinates, and immediately spotted the commotion. It didn't take long to find the source.
Ganyu sighed inwardly. "Please don't be who I think you are."
She approached slowly, her presence as gentle as falling snow.
Furina turned, mid-gesture, and her eyes lit up. "Oh my stars, what do we have here?"
Ganyu froze.
Furina's eyes trailed upward. "You're different. The aura, those horns! Are you an Adeptus? How fascinating!"
She approached at once, hands fluttering with excitement, as if Ganyu were a rare species of butterfly.
"Wait," Ganyu said, trying to create verbal distance. "You're—"
"Furina," she interrupted brightly. "Former Archon of Fontaine, part-time fashion icon, full-time adventuress. I'm here for a little soul-searching and maybe some dumplings. And—" her voice dropped conspiratorially, "—to see if Liyue has any eligible immortals who like dramatic women."
Ganyu blinked. "You're... Furina."
"Yes. You've heard of me?" she asked innocently.
"You're the Archon of Fontaine."
"Former!" Furina said with a flourishing bow. "Retired. Enlightened. Traveling. Very relaxed. Look—" she twirled again. "No divine authority, just velvet and vacation spirit."
Ganyu was already calculating protocol. Should she report this to Ningguang? Should Rex Lapis be informed? Surely not. But also, maybe?
Then Furina leaned in.
"Are those horns real?" she asked with deep fascination, one hand hesitating mid-air.
"I—what?" Ganyu blinked.
Furina reached up, gently, and brushed two fingers along Ganyu's right horn.
The touch was feather-light, curious, and utterly uninvited.
Ganyu's eyes widened. Her heart skipped. Her vision blurred.
And then—
She fainted.
Like a sack of Qingxin.
Her assistants caught her just before she hit the ground, wide-eyed and panicked.
Furina gasped. "Oh no! Is she allergic to former Archons?"
One assistant waved a fan. The other shouted, "We need water!"
Crabaletta promptly tossed a small splash from one of the luggage buckets.
"I didn't mean sea water!" the assistant cried.
Ganyu groaned from the ground, blinking up at the sky. "I think... I need to go home."
Furina peered down with innocent confusion. "Did I do something wrong?"
The crowd began murmuring again.
"She touched the Adeptus!"
"Can you even do that?"
"Maybe she used some kind of charm."
"Does this count as a declaration of war?"
"Should we clap?"
Meanwhile, Chevalmarin handed Furina a chilled towel and a paper fan. Usher offered a congratulatory tentacle shake.
Later, when Ganyu was upright again and sipping ginger tea, the official situation had been assessed: yes, Furina was indeed who she claimed to be. No, she was not here under diplomatic orders. No, she did not appear to pose a threat.
"Yes, she brought three living Hydro constructs that do not require Vision licenses."
"Yes, she's wearing five pieces of illegal jewelry, but she says they're 'diplomatic accessories.'"
And yes, she planned to stay in Liyue indefinitely.
Ganyu, pale and quiet, massaged her temple.
"I need... someone who can tolerate chaos," she muttered to herself.
One of her aides tilted his head. "Like, emotionally?"
"Martially. Spiritually. Existentially."
And at that moment, only one name came to mind.
Someone who didn't care for small talk. Who didn't care for any talk, really. Someone who could vanish when overwhelmed and reappear only when absolutely required. Someone who had survived literal karmic torment and still complained less than Furina did in five minutes.
She sighed, defeated.
"Get me Xiao."
Xiao sat cross-legged at a low table, steam curling from the untouched cup of tea before him. Outside the window, the wind rustled the bamboo trees near Wangshu Inn, carrying the scent of river mist and distant incense. Inside, his expression didn't change. Still. Silent. Coiled like a blade.
Across from him stood Ganyu, trying to keep her voice calm and her horns from twitching.
"And why, exactly, am I the one assigned to escort her?" Xiao asked again.
"I believe you can... handle her."
"No."
Ganyu pressed her fingers to her temples. "Please, Xiao. She's already caused two minor crowd incidents, three vendor disruptions, and a diplomatic misclassification on the travel registry."
"That's not my problem."
"Technically, all of Liyue's problems are your problem."
"Still no."
Ganyu sighed.
"You've faced abyssal horrors, karmic backlash, and eldritch corruption in the Chasm that nearly destroyed you," she said gently. "I'm confident you can handle a vacationing ex-Archon who likes clothes."
Xiao narrowed his eyes. "I nearly died in the Chasm. Twice."
Ganyu's voice dropped. "I know. We all remember what you did to protect the others."
For a moment, silence stretched between them.
A year ago, Xiao had plunged into the Abyssal depths beneath the Chasm to hold off a swarm of corrupted entities while the Traveler, Yanfei, Yelan, and Itto escaped. He had pushed his karmic debt to the edge, using forbidden techniques older than Liyue itself. His body barely survived. His soul—perhaps—less so.
He remembered the pain. The cold. The silence. And the voice that whispered to him in the dark: you were always meant to die alone.
He had returned with cracked bones and heavier silence. But he had returned.
And now they wanted him to play chaperone.
"To a tourist," he muttered.
"She's not just a tourist," Ganyu said. "She's Furina. Her presence could attract attention—good or bad. Having a known Adeptus nearby will ease tensions with locals. They'll feel safer if you're there."
"Why not Yanfei?" he asked flatly.
"She's buried in legal cases. Yelan's on a covert mission. Shenhe's in the mountains with Xianyun. That leaves you."
He said nothing for a long moment. The tea cooled.
In truth, he didn't want to do it.
Furina represented everything he avoided—noise, vanity, people. But Ganyu's eyes were tired, and the wind carried tension from the harbor even all the way up to the inn. Liyue needed stability. He was stability. Or at least, he tried to be.
"Fine," he said, standing. "But don't expect me to entertain her."
"I wouldn't dream of it," Ganyu murmured, relieved.
They returned to the Yuehai Pavilion, where Furina had been left under supervision. Or rather, where she had decided to supervise others.
Xiao stepped through the archway just as Yanfei was finishing a crash course in Liyue's basic legal etiquette. She stood across from Furina, holding a scroll and looking exhausted.
"Just remember," Yanfei said, "if you listen to vendors and don't interrupt them mid-sale, they'll usually be fine with answering questions. Even about… dress codes."
Furina nodded sagely, as though absorbing divine truth. "Yes, yes. I shall use compassionate cultural infiltration."
Yanfei blinked. "That's… not a real term."
"It is now." Furina beamed.
Xiao stepped forward and Furina turned.
She froze.
He froze.
Furina's eyes sparkled as she took him in: tall, lean, solemn, cloaked in dark fabric that shimmered faintly with Adepti sigils. His arms were scarred, his posture guarded. His hair fell like a raven's wing, tipped in green, and his eyes—golden, sharp, otherworldly—looked like they saw through illusions and didn't like what they found.
He looked like a fallen star trying to walk unnoticed.
Furina immediately decided he was fascinating.
"Furina," Ganyu said with calm formality, "this is Xiao, one of the remaining Adepti of Liyue, guardian of Wangshu Inn, and esteemed protector of this region. He will be your escort."
Furina gasped, not in fear, but delight. "An Adeptus? A real one? Oh, how thrilling!"
And before anyone could stop her, she walked right up to him and took both his hands in hers.
Xiao stiffened.
Then she leaned in and kissed him: once on each cheek, Fontainian style, before stepping back with an airy smile.
"A pleasure," she said. "You have exquisite skin. Do you moisturize, or is that just immortal magic?"
Behind them, Ganyu choked. Yanfei looked like she was praying. Somewhere, a cloud darkened.
Xiao stood very still.
Slowly, deliberately, he turned his head to Ganyu.
"I changed my mind."
"No," Ganyu said immediately. "Too late."
Xiao's eyes narrowed.
Furina was already halfway to the door, her creatures trailing behind her like a royal procession. "Come, dear escort! I simply must see the tea stalls before dusk. Also, is there a bookstore? I need a guide to Liyuean flirting customs. Purely for academic reasons."
Xiao exhaled the faintest, most exhausted sigh in Liyue's recorded history.
Then he followed.
"I must admit," Furina said, arms spread theatrically, "this is an amazing place! The stones are great, the weather is perfect, and even the stairs are a delightful architectural statement."
They were walking through the Feiyun Slope, its worn stone pathways etched by centuries of feet, lanterns swinging gently from iron hooks as wind passed through carved archways. Above them, cherry petals drifted from a rooftop garden. Children ran past with kites shaped like qilin and crane spirits.
Furina smiled and twirled as she stepped. Her long sleeves flared like sails. "Truly, Liyue knows how to sculpt a city. The angles of your bridges? The harmony of your vendor calls? Just delightful."
Xiao walked beside her. Silent. Unmoved.
She tilted her head. "You know, you could speak. I'm told conversation is an essential part of the tour experience."
He said nothing.
Furina crossed her arms with a dramatic sigh. "You're an Adeptus. You must have stories. Ancient monsters, starborn warriors, damsels in distress you swept off rooftops, perhaps?"
Still no response.
He walked ahead, scanning the streets. Ever vigilant. Eyes sharp, jaw tight.
Furina stared at him in disbelief.
"Really?" she muttered. "I've seen statues with more personality."
They passed a shrine to the Geo Lord, where incense smoke curled upward in soft spirals. Furina lingered for a moment to read the inscription, then turned back to Xiao who had already walked ahead.
She caught up, cheeks puffed slightly. "You know, as my escort, you have a responsibility to engage. Otherwise, what am I supposed to do, narrate everything to my crab?"
From behind them, Mademoiselle Crabaletta clicked once in solidarity.
Xiao still didn't speak.
That was it.
Furina threw up her hands. "So this is what it's like, huh? This silence: this solemn, tragic aesthetic thing. Is that an Adeptus trait? Silent brooding because you've done so many great battles that the world can't possibly understand your pain? Is that the idea?"
Xiao stopped walking.
She didn't notice at first and bumped into his back.
"Hey! What gives—"
Then she saw his face.
His golden eyes glowed: not with calm, not with stoicism, but something else.
Anger.
His voice, when it came, was low.
"Do not speak of my brethren like that."
Furina's breath caught.
"You think silence is performance?" he continued. "You think I'm quiet because it's poetic?"
He turned to face her fully, and the weight of his presence shifted. The air grew still. Even the wind seemed to hesitate.
"You've never stood among the bodies of friends who faded into dust. You've never heard the last breath of an ally who begged for peace they never found. You weren't there when the Yaksha fell, one by one, until I was the only one left."
Furina opened her mouth, but no words came.
"You weren't there when their voices became echoes in my skull," Xiao said, eyes narrowing. "When karma dug into my skin like poison. You talk of battles like they're stories. But they weren't. They were screams in the dark—blood on stone, names I still hear when the wind turns cold. And I don't need to explain myself to someone who treats pain like a costume."
Silence.
Furina stared at him.
She wasn't smiling now. The usual spark in her eye had dulled, not from fear, but something quieter. Something deeper.
He looked away first, jaw clenched.
They walked the rest of the way back in silence.
By the time they reached Wangshu Inn, the sun had begun to set, turning the sky gold and bruised lavender. The inn's lanterns flickered to life, casting soft orange light over the water. Cicadas had begun their song.
Furina said nothing as she ascended the final stairs. Her creatures lagged behind, dragging luggage slowly, as if even they sensed the shift.
Xiao walked beside her, distant.
A part of him welcomed the quiet. He had snapped. That wasn't like him.
But another part, buried under layers of self-control, noticed something else.
Her eyes. When he spoke to her that way, there had been something in them. Not shock. Not insult. Just… a quiet sadness. The kind that didn't shout, only echoed.
She didn't understand his suffering.
But maybe, just maybe, he didn't understand hers, either.
Inside the inn, Furina entered her room first, stopping briefly at the doorway.
"Thank you," she said softly. Not with flair. No gesture. No irony.
Xiao blinked. He had expected another jab. Another flourish.
But she stepped inside and closed the door behind her with a quiet click.
He stood outside for a moment, watching the moon rise over the trees.
It was strange.
He had faced abyssal beasts without flinching. Dived into the Chasm and danced with death. And yet, something about the way she looked at him now lingered. Like a note half-played. Like something unresolved.
He exhaled slowly and walked away.
End chapter