Night draped Liyue Harbor in a tapestry of glowing lanterns, countless homes alight with warmth.
The city pulsed with life after dusk, its night market unfurling in a riot of color and sound.
Stalls hawked sizzling skewers, their smoky aromas mingling with the tang of sea salt.
Shops that slumbered by day flung open their doors, eager for the nocturnal trade.
Chunxiang Kiln glowed among them, its pottery gleaming under flickering torchlight.
Wait—didn't it bustle during daylight too, its wares a constant lure?
Xander smirked, blaming Yinger's sly charm for the confusion.
Her flirtatious banter could derail any man's train of thought, a verbal dance too swift to parry.
He'd stumbled into her shop once, leaving flustered and empty-handed.
Liyue's seaside perch lent the night a crisp, cool edge, the breeze a balm against the day's heat.
The docks quieted, their cranes still, yet the pier teemed with souls seeking respite.
Couples strolled arm in arm, children darted through the throng, laughter riding the wind.
Xander often wandered here when dusk fell, the sea's murmur a soothing companion.
Without phones or screens, Teyvat's nights stretched long and empty.
What else could one do—seek out shadowed dens of vice?
Liyue harbored no such places; its laws stamped out those illicit haunts.
Even if he'd craved such mischief, no shadowy corner beckoned.
Besides, Xander prided himself a gentleman, a beacon of virtue in this new world.
He roamed the pier, seeking his usual spot by the weathered railings.
A frown creased his brow—every nook was claimed, overrun by furtive lovers.
Whispered sweet nothings and stifled giggles filled the air, a relentless assault.
"Blasted fate—dog food by day, now stuffed down my throat at night," he muttered.
Singledom gnawed at him, a pang sharpened by the pier's romantic siege.
In his old life, survival trumped romance; he'd barely kept himself afloat.
Here, though, he'd risen—a high-caliber soul amid Teyvat's tapestry.
His standards soared with his station, no common heart would do.
Then his gaze snagged on a lone figure, framed by the moon's silver glow.
Ganyu stood apart, her qilin grace a quiet contrast to the pier's clamor.
Liyue's eternal secretary, she'd served the Seven Stars across millennia.
Her elegance flowed like glaze lilies, soft yet unyielding in duty's embrace.
The qilin's gentle spirit melded with a resolve forged in contract's steel.
She toiled for Liyue's good, honoring a pact struck with Morax eons ago.
"Coco Queen Ganyu, basking in the breeze alone again?" Xander called, voice teasing.
She turned, her lilac eyes catching his, a faint sigh escaping her lips.
"It's Ganyu, not Coco Queen," she corrected, exasperation threading her tone.
"Please, Xander, stop mangling my name," she added, a plea wrapped in patience.
He chuckled, strolling to her side with an easy grin.
"Apologies—old habits die hard," he said, leaning against the salt-worn rail.
Ganyu's days brimmed with labor, Liyue's gears grinding to a halt without her.
Yet she stole these pier-side moments, a quiet retreat to ponder beneath the stars.
Their chats had woven a thread of familiarity, a bond born over sea-swept nights.
"You look burdened tonight—something weighing on that qilin heart?" he asked.
She blinked, startled, a hand brushing her cheek in reflex.
"Is it that clear?" she murmured, surprise widening her gentle gaze.
She'd never thought her face a mirror to her soul's quiet storms.
Xander shrugged, his voice casual yet keen.
"Not glaringly so—you always wear a hint of worry," he observed.
"Tonight, though, it's sharper, etched a little deeper," he noted.
"Seriously, train some aides—let them shoulder the load," he urged.
"You'll molder in that paper swamp otherwise," he warned, half in jest.
Ganyu, delicate as moonlight, bore a workload to rival Teyvat's titans.
For millennia, she'd sifted Liyue's affairs, a lone sentinel of order.
Her pace outstripped Ningguang's trio of scribes, a marvel of efficiency.
Yet ceaseless toil wore even her half-adepti frame thin.
Listlessness shadowed her at times, a weight she carried in silence.
She shook her head, blue locks swaying like waves under the moon.
"No—I vowed to Morax to safeguard Liyue," she said, voice firm.
"Every task must pass my hands to ensure no flaw slips through," she insisted.
Others had pressed her—Ningguang, Keqing, Tianquan, even Ping.
Mandrill's gruff counsel joined the chorus, urging her to delegate.
Yet Ganyu stood resolute, a fragile pillar upholding her ancient oath.
Over three thousand years, she remained a maiden in spirit, steadfast and pure.
Xander watched her, marveling at the paradox she embodied.
Soft as a qilin's tread, yet unyielding as the stone Morax shaped.
The pier stretched behind them, its lovers blind to her quiet vigil.
Liyue glittered beyond, a city thriving on her unseen labor.
The Shadowfang Blade thrummed at his hip, a silent nod to her strength.
Xander's own path gleamed clearer—could he match her enduring grace?
Night deepened, the sea's song a lullaby to their shared solitude.
***
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