Getting a hoverboard license in Liyue Harbor was, by design, a long and thorough process. It involved hours of mandatory classroom instruction, several weeks of practical training with a certified instructor, and a final, rigorous, two-part exam. It was a system designed for absolute, public safety.
For Ren, however, the system was about to become a little more… flexible.
Ganyu, true to her word, had a quiet, and very persuasive, discussion with Keqing. The logic was simple, and undeniable.
"He's the one who invented it," Ganyu had explained. "And he is about to become Liyue's official ambassador for the technology. It would be… diplomatically awkward if he arrived in Mondstadt as an unlicensed driver."
Keqing, who had a deep appreciation for both logic and efficiency, had agreed immediately.
And so, Ren's licensing process was "fast-tracked."
The mandatory training was, of course, waived. It would be a bit silly to have an instructor teach the boy who had co-designed the very machine they were flying.
He did, however, still have to take the exam. It was a matter of procedure, of setting a good, public example.
So, one bright, sunny morning, Ren found himself in a quiet, empty classroom at the main Driving Academy, a fresh test paper and a writing brush placed neatly before him. The exam proctor, a stern-faced, high-ranking Millelith officer, looked more nervous than he did.
Ren looked down at the test paper, and a small, amused smile touched his lips. The questions were all very familiar.
Question 1: What is the maximum safe hovering altitude within city limits?
He picked up his brush and began to write. He was, in a very real, and very funny, sense, taking an exam for which he himself had written all the questions and the answers. He passed, of course, with a perfect score.
Then came the practical test. This, too, was mostly for the sake of the official records. He met the proctor on the main training ground, his own, familiar, and slightly upgraded, personal hoverboard at his feet.
"The test will require you to perform a series of basic maneuvers," the proctor announced, his voice a stiff, formal bark as he read from a checklist. "A stable liftoff, a forward glide, a full circle turn to the left, and a safe, controlled landing."
Ren just nodded, his expression one of polite, serious concentration.
He stepped onto his board, the latches clicking into place. He took off, a smooth, flawless, and perfectly stable, ascent. He then proceeded to not just perform the basic maneuvers, but to put on a small, breathtaking, and utterly, wonderfully, show-offish, display of aerial artistry. He zipped across the training ground, he did a series of sharp, perfect, and impossibly tight, turns. He even, for a brief, thrilling moment, flew a perfect, graceful loop-the-loop, a move that was most definitely not in the official testing manual, and which made the proctor's jaw drop.
He then brought the board to a perfect, silent, and gentle, landing, right at the proctor's feet.
The proctor was silent for a long, stunned moment, his checklist completely forgotten. He then simply, dazedly, stamped Ren's official paperwork with a large, crimson seal of approval.
Later that day, Ren was presented with a small, laminated, and very official-looking, document. It was his own, personal, and completely, legally, and officially, earned, Liyue Hoverboard License.
He now had his board, his mission, his case of samples, and his license to fly. He was, in every conceivable way, finally, and officially, ready to leave for Mondstadt.