The familiar, salty, and spice-laden air of Liyue Harbor was a welcome balm to their weary souls. As the Alcor expertly navigated its way to its berth, Ren stood at the railing beside Ganyu, a profound sense of homecoming washing over him. The sounds, the smells, the very light of the city felt different—warmer, safer, more like a well-loved blanket than the beautiful but tense silk of Inazuma.
A familiar, efficient figure was waiting for them on the docks as the gangplank was lowered. It was Keqing, her usual sharp, professional demeanor softened by a look of genuine, profound relief.
"Welcome home," she said, her voice a calm, steady anchor in the bustling chaos of the wharf. She gave them both a respectful, but warm, nod. "Your journey was… eventful, I hear. A formal welcome is in order, but I suspect a quiet night's rest is what you truly need."
"You have no idea," Ganyu replied, a weary but deeply happy smile on her face.
Keqing's gaze then shifted, moving past them to Captain Beidou, who was overseeing her crew with a practiced, confident authority. "Captain Beidou," she called out, her tone respectful but firm. "Lady Ningguang requests your presence at the Jade Chamber tomorrow morning, along with Ganyu and Ren. She has a matter she wishes to discuss with you personally."
She did not elaborate. She simply stated the summons, a clear, concise, and utterly non-negotiable, invitation.
Beidou, who had been shouting an order to a crewman, turned, a single, sharp eyebrow raised. A slow, knowing, and slightly roguish, grin spread across her face. She looked at the stern, unreadable Yuheng.
So, Beidou thought to herself, a deep, amused chuckle rumbling in her chest. She knows. She wasn't worried. Ningguang was a formidable woman, but they understood each other. A contract was a contract, and a good deed was a good deed. This was just… business.
"Tell the Tianquan I'll be there," Beidou called back, her voice a confident boom. "Wouldn't miss it for the world."
With the final arrangements made, Ren and Ganyu finally, blessedly, made their way home. The moment they stepped through the gate of their house on Feiyun Slope, a collective, unspoken sigh of relief seemed to pass between them. The gentle warmth of the heater, the cool, quiet hum of the refrigerator, the familiar, comforting scent of the Glaze Lilies in the garden—it was all here. They were home.
Ren was so utterly, completely, and happily exhausted that he barely touched his dinner before he was stumbling off to his room. He fell into his own, familiar, comfortable bed, the soft pillows a world of luxury after the swaying cot of the ship, and was asleep in an instant.
Later that night, long after the moon had risen to cast a gentle, silver glow over the silent city, Ganyu quietly pushed open the door to Ren's room. She just needed to see him, to reassure herself, for the hundredth time, that he was really here, really safe, finally home.
She walked to his bedside and sat on the edge of the mattress, her movements as silent as falling snow. She looked at his sleeping form, at the way his messy, blue-streaked hair fell across his forehead, at the peaceful, innocent expression on his face. He looked so small, so fragile, a stark, profound contrast to the hero who had stood against Harbingers and debated with Gods.
A deep, profound, and almost painful, wave of love washed over her. She thought of her life before him, of the long, lonely centuries. It had not been an unhappy life, but it had been… gray. An endless, unchanging, and dutiful, expanse of work and of solitude. She had her duty, her loyalty to Rex Lapis, her work for the Qixing. It was enough. She had thought it was enough.
And then, he had crashed into her world, a small, brilliant, and impossibly kind, star, fallen from another sky. He had not just brought chaos and adventure; he had painted her gray, dutiful world with a thousand, vibrant, and beautiful, new colors. He had given her a reason to rush home from work. He had given her a reason to laugh, to worry, to feel a fierce, protective pride so intense it was a physical ache in her chest. He had given her a family.
She gently, tenderly, reached out and brushed a stray strand of hair from his sleeping face, her touch as light as a crystalfly's wing.
"I am so glad you came into my life, Ren," she whispered to the sleeping boy, her voice a raw, fragile, and utterly sincere, confession in the quiet, moonlit room. "You made everything so much warmer. So much… happier."
A single, silent, and very happy, tear traced a path down her cheek.
"I love you, my little brother," she whispered. And she sat there, for a long, long time, a silent, loving, and profoundly grateful, guardian, watching over the greatest treasure her long, eternal life had ever known.