"Lady Ningguang, the intelligence and documents you requested have all been compiled. Everything is here."
A woman with a graceful, alluring figure stepped into the Jade Chamber. Her violet side-swept bangs framed her face, and her form-fitting leather outfit accentuated every curve, radiating the mature charm of a seasoned woman. She casually perched on the edge of the desk and set the stack of documents down.
Meticulously applied makeup, eyes brimming with subtle allure—this was Ningguang's special intelligence officer. A name that did not exist in the Ministry of Civil Affairs' records, the true proprietor of Yanshang Teahouse—
Yelan.
Ningguang gently set down her teacup and gestured lightly.
"Miss Yelan, I attended a banquet at Xinyue Kiosk today. The proprietors gifted me some fine tea—why don't you take it back and enjoy it?"
"Lady Ningguang must have forgotten," Yelan replied with a soft chuckle as she brushed her hair behind her ear. "I run Yanshang Teahouse. I'm never short on good tea. You should keep it for yourself."
She paused, then smiled meaningfully.
"Recently, quite a few interesting things have happened. Care to hear about them?"
"Go on," Ningguang said calmly. "I hope they're interesting enough."
As the Tianquan of Liyue, Ningguang's greatest interest was earning Mora—her greatest joy was the moment it flowed into her hands. Beyond that, little else truly caught her attention. With wealth came peace of mind, and it had been a long time since anything stirred her curiosity.
Yelan toyed with her fingers.
"Do you remember the underground gang that once had a bit of a reputation in Liyue Harbor?"
Ningguang nodded indifferently.
"The Old Nine Gates. A gang of only nine men. Eight imprisoned, one remaining—who long ago went silent."
"Just yesterday, the Old Nine Gates were re-established," Yelan continued. "I checked the records of the High-Security Prison beneath Yujing Terrace, as well as other detention facilities. All eight prisoners were bailed out—by a single individual."
Ningguang's fingers paused. She pinched her pipe and lit it again, pale smoke curling from her lips.
"And the total bail?" she asked, her tone finally shifting.
"Enough to build half of the Jade Chamber."
Ningguang didn't mind her palace being used as a unit of measurement. A faint smile appeared on her lips.
"Interesting. If I recall correctly, the Old Nine Gates ranked nine members. The one who paid should be the Ninth. What is his name?"
"Ji Ming. Known in the underworld as the 'Frivolous Wanderer.' He's drifted through Liyue's underbelly for ten years. After the Old Nine Gates collapsed, he went dormant, scraping by with… less reputable work."
Meaning: there was no possible way Ji Ming could have earned half a Jade Chamber's worth of Mora on his own.
Ningguang set down her pipe and walked to the open balcony, gazing down upon the vast sprawl of Liyue Harbor. Without turning, she spoke to Yelan, who had followed her.
"Three days. I want everything on this man."
"Understood. I'll report back."
Back in Liyue Harbor, Ji Ming had just returned from Jueyun Karst and was weaving through the streets like a proper street ruffian. He'd been busy preparing for his housewarming banquet lately—no time to take on side jobs.
Per Cloud Retainer's instructions, he was carrying a letter for Senior Sister Ganyu. He had no idea what it said—probably a reminder to cultivate diligently, or something along those lines.
Before he left Jueyun Karst, Senior Sister Shenhe had quietly gifted him a red cord, urging him never to lose it. Some kind of transformed heavenly treasure, maybe.
In any case, Ji Ming tied it around his wrist. Occasionally, it emitted a faint red glow—warm, comforting.
"Mr. Ji Ming, you seem free today. Care to come up and sit for a while?"
Ji Ming looked up. Leaning casually against the railing of a skybridge was a man wearing a different mask than before, waving cheerfully. Beside him stood the Northland Bank.
It was Tartaglia.
"If you haven't eaten yet," Tartaglia added with a grin, "how about I treat you?"
There's no such thing as a free meal—but the Northland Bank begs to differ.
Ji Ming immediately changed direction, climbing the stairs beside Mingxing Jewelry to the top floor. He clasped Tartaglia's outstretched hand, beaming.
"Well, if it isn't Mr. Tartaglia. What a coincidence—I was just getting hungry."
Tartaglia raised a brow, amused.
"A few days ago you were on full alert. Feeling especially cheerful today?"
"Not at all," Ji Ming replied earnestly. "Since we're partners, harmony is key. Walking around with a stiff face all day would be terribly impolite."
Partners?
More like a coin-spawning tool.
Tartaglia could only smile wryly. He might be a battle-loving brute, but Ji Ming's intentions were so obvious that ignoring them was impossible.
"I'll be introducing you to a colleague shortly," Tartaglia said. "Her temper isn't the best—please bear with her."
"No problem. I'll just eat. You two can talk."
Anyone Tartaglia called a colleague was surely another Fatui Harbinger—but Ji Ming couldn't care less about Fatui personnel changes unless they were willing to become his mobile wallet.
As they entered the bank, a Fatui guard by the door eyed Ji Ming with blatant disdain, chin raised.
Ji Ming took a careful look at the nameplate on the guard's chest, then followed Tartaglia inside without a word.
Vlad, huh. I'll remember that.
They pushed open the bronze doors to the lounge.
A lavish feast greeted them—mostly Snezhnayan dishes, with only a handful of Liyue cuisine scattered among them. Bottles of Snezhnayan vodka gleamed invitingly on the table.
By the window sat a provocatively dressed woman. Her cold-toned gown nearly brushed the floor, a black crown-like headpiece and crimson eyeshadow accentuating her dangerous allure. Long, pale, wavy hair cascaded down, partially obscuring her face.
Hearing the door, she glanced over, nodded briefly to Tartaglia, then flicked her eyes past Ji Ming with clear disinterest.
"You're late, Tartaglia."
"Sorry, sorry," Tartaglia laughed. "I ran into our partner and brought him along. You don't mind, do you, Lady?"
"Lady" was clearly a codename.
Tartaglia leaned in and whispered, "Her real name is Rosalyne-Kruzchka Lohefalter. Her Harbinger title is La Signora. Best not to call her by name—she hates rude people."
"You're just telling me that outright?" Ji Ming blinked, then asked, "Then tell me your real name too."
"Uh… let's eat."
Ji Ming didn't care anymore. Whatever the Fatui planned, right now he was here to eat.
Seeing them whisper, La Signora frowned coldly.
"Bringing whoever you please is your business. But whispering in front of me is exceptionally rude."
Tartaglia quickly smoothed things over and gestured for Ji Ming to sit.
"My apologies. This is one of the Fatui's partners—Mr. Ji Ming."
Ji Ming nodded politely and sat down, immediately surveying the dishes. His gaze lingered on La Signora for less than three seconds.
She felt insulted.
"A Fatui partner?" she sneered. "Tartaglia, I seriously doubt your judgment. A man who only cares about food—that is your chosen collaborator?"
"La Signora," Tartaglia said seriously, "you owe him an apology. Mr. Ji Ming is currently one of the Fatui's highest-level partners. He is even authorized to know both your and my real names. Her Majesty is aware of this."
At the mention of the Tsaritsa, La Signora turned away without another word. Inwardly, she scoffed—Her Majesty likely didn't care in the slightest about this man stuffing his face.
As long as they obtained the Gnosis, anyone could be a collaborator.
Ji Ming, unfazed by the mockery, showed no sign of anger. He'd heard worse insults over the years—enough to weigh a thousand catties. This was nothing.
Naturally, he had no intention of retaliating now. Opportunities for revenge could come later. At present, he was a Fatui partner—no need to tear things open.
"Miss Rosalyne," Ji Ming said calmly, "regardless of your opinion of me, as long as I am a Fatui collaborator, I have only one thing to say here—should you ever require assistance, I will do my utmost to help."
Provided I'm still worth something to you.
La Signora gazed out the window and replied flatly,
"Save your bravado. Show me your value first."
The hostility in her tone had eased. Ji Ming knew he'd gained at least a sliver of favor, and promptly lowered his head to eat.
As for the vodka—he wouldn't touch it. He could barely handle eight jars of regular liquor. This stuff would knock him flat in minutes.
Seeing the tension fade, Tartaglia tried to steer the conversation.
"La Signora, you're being sent to Mondstadt this time. You know what to do, yes?"
"Of course," she replied coldly. "I will take revenge on Barbatos."
Tartaglia sighed.
"The priority is the Anemo Archon's Gnosis. Revenge is your own business."
"Don't lecture me," La Signora snapped. "You still haven't located Morax, have you? When exactly will you retrieve his Gnosis?"
As she spoke, she deliberately glanced at Ji Ming—expecting anger.
She miscalculated.
Eat. Eat. Eat. Eat.
I'll eat you bankrupt, you jerk.
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