The days on Mt. Aocang settled into a new, quiet rhythm. The palpable tension of the Harbor, with its lurking shadows and political intrigues, faded away, replaced by the profound, ancient peace of the mountains. Shenhe, true to her Master's command, was a constant, silent presence. She was not a companion in the way Ganyu was; there was no warm chatter, no affectionate hugs. She was a shadow, a guardian, her glacial-blue eyes always watchful, her presence a silent, unwavering promise that no harm would ever come to him here.
This quiet, secure environment was exactly what Ren needed. It gave him the space to finally process the whirlwind of events, to sort through the flood of information and emotion. During the long, peaceful afternoons, as he sat by the crystal-clear pool, with Shenhe standing sentinel a respectful distance away, he would tell them everything.
He spoke to Xianyun, and to the silent, ever-present Shenhe, of his journey to Mondstadt. He described the city of freedom, its towering windmills and its cheerful, resilient people. He spoke of his new friends with a fond, gentle warmth—of Klee's explosive joy, of Eula's reluctant kindness, of Lisa's brilliant mind. He described the terrifying, majestic assault of Stormterror, and the sudden, miraculous appearance of the Traveler, Lumine.
Xianyun listened with the focused attention of a scholar, absorbing every detail, analyzing the political and elemental ramifications of a neighboring nation's divine crisis. Shenhe listened with the stillness of a predator, her mind likely cataloging potential threats and the strengths of these new, unknown allies. Neither of them interrupted; they simply let him speak, allowing him to unravel the tangled threads of his adventure in his own time.
After several days of this quiet reflection and storytelling, Ren felt his own creative, inventive spirit stirring once more. The fear and anxiety had been processed, replaced by a familiar, restless spark. He had seen a new part of the world, and it had given him a new idea.
One morning, he approached Xianyun in her workshop, a new, meticulously drawn blueprint in his hand. Shenhe followed, a silent, silver-haired shadow.
"Master," he began, "my time in Mondstadt… it made me think. It's the city of the Anemo Archon. Everything there is about the wind, about freedom, about flight."
He unrolled the blueprint on a clear workbench. It was not a machine of comfort or preservation. It was a machine of movement. It depicted a flat, sleek, rectangular platform, large enough for a single person to stand on. Beneath it was a complex array of what looked like miniature, multi-bladed windmills, all housed within circular casings. At its core was a familiar slot for an electro crystal.
"This," he said, his voice full of a new, excited energy, "is a hoverboard."
Xianyun leaned forward, her red glasses sliding down her nose slightly as she scrutinized the diagram, her golden eyes widening with a familiar, intellectual fire.
"The principle is based on propellers," Ren explained, his finger tracing the flow of energy from the crystal to the small, fan-like mechanisms. "Each propeller is essentially a small, high-speed fan, angled downwards. The electro crystal powers a motor that spins them at an incredible speed. They push the air down with such force that it creates an opposing force, called 'lift,' which pushes the board up into the air."
He pointed to the base of the board. "There's no steering mechanism. It's controlled by the rider's own balance. You lean forward to move forward, lean back to stop. It would be… a single-person vehicle. A way for people to travel quickly over any terrain, without needing roads."
Xianyun was completely captivated. This was a direct application of Anemo principles, but achieved through pure, mechanical, Electro-powered means. It was a way for mortals to touch the freedom of the winds.
"The propulsion system is the most complex part," Ren continued, his mind already working ahead. "Getting the balance of power, lift, and stability right will be the main challenge. I thought… we could test and perfect that system on this smaller model first."
He then pulled out a second, much larger and more complex blueprint. It showed a bigger, enclosed vehicle with seats for multiple people, a clear canopy, and a proper steering mechanism connected to the propellers. "Because eventually," he said, a brilliant, ambitious light in his eyes, "I think we can build this. A hovercar. A way for families to travel together, to soar over the mountains and rivers of Liyve, as free as the birds."
The sheer, breathtaking audacity of the idea filled the workshop. He wasn't just thinking of personal transport; he was envisioning a complete revolution in how people moved, how they experienced their world. He was proposing to give the land of Geo the gift of flight.
Xianyun stared at the blueprints, her mind a whirlwind of calculations and possibilities. The challenges were immense—power-to-weight ratios, material stress, navigational control—but the principles were sound. It was possible. It was brilliant.
She looked at the small, quiet boy, this child who had fallen into her life and had proceeded to calmly, methodically, reinvent her world one blueprint at a time. He had brought them warmth, then preservation, and now, he was offering them the sky.
A slow, genuinely awestruck smile spread across her face. "Ren," she said, her voice a low murmur of profound admiration. "Let's get to work."