With Xianyun's departure, a new and exciting chapter began for Ren and Ganyu. The house on Feiyun Slope transformed from a simple home into a private training ground, a sanctuary where the impossible could be explored.
Ganyu took to her new role as Ren's mentor with a seriousness and dedication that surpassed even her commitment to the Qixing. Her mornings were still for Liyue's governance, but her afternoons and evenings belonged entirely to him. Their lessons would often take place in the secluded garden, the soft grass and tranquil koi pond a peaceful backdrop for their magical studies.
"The key to Cryo is not force, but stillness," Ganyu explained one sunny afternoon. She stood opposite Ren, her hands held loosely at her sides. "It is the element of tranquility, of preservation. To wield it, you must first find the quiet within yourself. Feel the energy not as a weapon to be thrown, but as a part of your own breath, your own heartbeat."
For Ren, this was second nature. His ability was born not of conflict or a grand ambition, but of a quiet, curious connection. The stillness Ganyu spoke of was the very essence of the power he felt within him.
His natural talent was, frankly, astonishing. Ganyu would demonstrate a technique—creating a sharp icicle, forming a delicate frost field on a leaf—and Ren would replicate it perfectly on his first try. His control was so intuitive, so flawless, that it left Ganyu breathless. He didn't seem to be learning so much as… remembering. The energy flowed from him like a native language, shaping itself to his will with an artist's grace.
But as his control over the raw element grew, Ganyu knew they had to address the inevitable next step: its application.
"Your power is a gift, Ren," she said one day, her expression serious. "But in this world, any power can be seen as a threat. And there will always be those who wish to harm the things we hold dear. You need to be able to protect yourself."
She procured a set of standard, blunted training weapons from the Millelith's quartermaster: a sword, a polearm, a claymore, a bow, and a catalyst orb. She laid them out on a silk cloth in the garden.
"Most Vision bearers channel their power through a chosen weapon," she explained. "It acts as a focus, a conduit. I want you to see if any of these feel… right to you."
Ren looked at the array of weapons, a deep-seated unease settling in his heart. He picked up the wooden training sword. It felt clumsy and foreign in his hand, a simple, brutal tool for causing harm. He tried the polearm, its length awkward and ungainly. The claymore was too large and heavy, the bow felt alien, and the catalyst, a smooth crystal orb, felt cold and inert, a pale imitation of the living power he held within.
He put the last weapon down and shook his head, a troubled look in his glowing azure eyes.
"I don't like them," he said softly, but with an unshakeable certainty. "Any of them." He looked up at Ganyu, his expression pleading for her to understand. "I don't want to hurt anyone, big sister. I just… I just want to protect the people I care about. That's all."
His words, so simple and so pure, struck Ganyu to the core. Of course. Of course he would feel that way. His very first invention had been a machine of comfort, not of war. His heart was that of a creator and a guardian, not a warrior. Forcing a weapon into his hands would be a violation of his very nature.
A gentle, understanding smile graced her lips. "Alright, Ren," she said, her voice full of a new resolve. "Then we will find another way. A way to protect without hurting."
And so, his combat training began, but it was a style of combat unlike any other. Ganyu would act as the attacker, lunging at him with a blunted training spear. Ren, instead of directly dodging or counter-attacking, would simply stand his ground. At the last possible second, he would move and a wall of translucent, shimmering ice, as hard as diamond, would erupt from the air itself before him, blocking the strike with a sharp thud. The shields appeared instantaneously, from any side, shaped perfectly to deflect the angle of the attack.
His primary offensive tool was immobilization. When Ganyu would get too close, Ren would not attack blindly. Instead, he would flick his wrist, and a stream of Cryo energy would lash out, not to injure, but to freeze. The tip of her spear would suddenly be encased in a heavy block of ice. Her boots would be frozen solid to the ground, trapping her in place. His freeze reaction had no requirement of hydro application, it worked on it's own. He became a master of strategic incapacitation, his goal never to wound his opponent, but simply to make them stop.
Most of the time, however, his use of Cryo was purely for joy and creation. It was a tool for art, not for battle. He would sit by the koi pond and create a flock of glowing Cryo butterflies that would dance and flutter over the water, their crystalline wings casting beautiful, shifting patterns of light. He would entertain Ganyu by sculpting a perfect, life-sized model of a wild boar, its form frozen in a comical, charging pose.
His favorite creation, and Ganyu's, was the one he had first shown Xianyun. He would pour his feelings of love and affection for his sister into his power, and a small, glowing, life-like statue of Ganyu would form in the garden. It would turn its head, mirroring her movements, and even wave a small, crystalline hand at the real Ganyu, who would laugh, a sound of pure, unadulterated delight, every single time.
He was not weilding a weapon, rather he was honing a gift. His power was not a sword used against the world, but a shield to protect his home and a brush to paint it with moments of quiet, magical beauty. And for a boy who only wanted to protect, it was the perfect art form.