The house Ganyu had arranged was more than just lodgings; it was a sanctuary nestled in the heart of Liyue's most prestigious district. Tucked away on a quiet, winding street on Feiyun Slope, it was hidden behind a tall, elegant wall and a heavy, dark-wood gate that promised absolute privacy. The moment they stepped through, the bustling sounds of the Harbor faded away, replaced by the tranquil murmur of a small, man-made waterfall trickling into a koi pond. The air itself seemed to change, losing the salty tang of the wharf and taking on the sweet, delicate fragrance of the Glaze Lilies and Silk Flowers that filled the meticulously kept garden.
The house was built in the traditional Liyue style, a single-story dwelling with a gracefully curved roof and intricate lattice-work on the windows. Inside, the floors were made of dark, polished wood that felt cool and smooth beneath Ren's bare feet. The furniture was sparse but exquisite—low-set tables of sandbearer wood, plush silk cushions in shades of deep blue and gold, and delicate porcelain vases holding single, perfect blossoms. Sliding paper screens could be opened to merge the interior with the garden, allowing the gentle breeze to flow through the entire space.
For Ren, it was a world away from the stark, divine beauty of Mt. Aocang. The mountain was a place of immense, raw nature. This house was a place of refined, human artistry. It was beautiful in a way that felt warm, comfortable, and deeply peaceful. He wandered from room to room, his small hand trailing along the smooth wood of the walls, his glowing azure eyes taking in every detail with a quiet wonder.
Xianyun, for her part, surveyed the accommodations with a critical, appraising eye. She noted the secure perimeter, the quality of the craftsmanship, and the quietness of the location. "Adequate," she pronounced, which from her was the highest form of praise. She selected a room that overlooked the garden, and with a quiet hum of adeptal energy, a collection of scrolls and delicate mechanical components materialized from thin air onto a table. She could continue her research anywhere.
Ganyu had been a whirlwind of quiet efficiency. Before they had even fully settled, she had arrived with a small army of servants from the Yuehai Pavilion, who brought with them fresh linens, pantry staples, and a collection of comfortable, child-sized clothes for Ren. Ganyu herself oversaw everything, her usual professional diligence now laser-focused on a single objective: Ren's absolute comfort.
"Is the temperature to your liking, Master? Ren?" she would ask, her brow furrowed with a sincere concern. "I have arranged for meals to be delivered from Wanmin Restaurant, but I have also brought some snacks. I wasn't sure what you would like, so I brought a little of everything."
She produced a basket filled with an assortment of Liyue delicacies: sticky honey roast, delicate crystal shrimp dumplings, and a small box of sweet, fragrant Lotus Flower Crisps. Ren's eyes lit up at the sight of the food. On the mountain, his diet had consisted of foraged herbs and whatever simple fare Xianyun had concocted. This was a feast.
He sat on a silk cushion by the low table, and Ganyu sat opposite him, her hands clasped in her lap, watching him eat with an anxious, hopeful expression. Xianyun observed the scene from a distance, a cup of tea in her hand, a faint, unreadable smile on her lips.
"This is really good!" Ren said, his cheeks puffed out with a piece of Lotus Flower Crisp. The compliment made Ganyu's shoulders, which were always tense with the weight of her responsibilities, relax completely. A soft, radiant smile bloomed on her face.
This became their new routine. Xianyun would spend her mornings instructing Ren, not in adeptal mechanics, but in the more subtle arts of mortal life—the customs of Liyue, the value of mora, the importance of contracts in even the smallest transactions. Then, like clockwork, Ganyu would appear in the afternoon, her workday officially over but her mind clearly still racing with a hundred unfinished tasks. Yet, the moment she stepped through the gate and saw Ren, the tension would melt from her face.
Ren, surprisingly, found himself content to stay within the walls of the house and garden. The Harbor, with its endless noise and crowds, could wait. He had something far more precious and fascinating right here. He had Ganyu.
He found that he loved listening to her talk. When she was with him, she would shed the skin of the formal Qixing secretary. She would sit with him by the koi pond, her feet dipped in the cool water, and tell him about her day. She would complain softly about the sheer volume of paperwork, about a shipment of silk from Feiyun Commerce Guild that had been delayed, about how Lady Keqing was so demanding but also brilliant. She spoke to him not as a child to be entertained, but as a confidant, a sympathetic ear.
Ren would just listen, his head tilted, his luminous eyes fixed on her. He wouldn't offer solutions; he would just offer his presence. Sometimes, he'd ask a simple question.
"Are your horns heavy?" he asked one afternoon, his gaze full of innocent curiosity.
Ganyu was taken aback. Most people avoided the subject, or stared. She reached up and touched one of her smooth, red-and-black horns self-consciously. "Oh. Um, no, not at all. They're a part of me, like... like your arms or legs. I don't really notice them."
"They're pretty," Ren said simply, as if stating a fact. "They look like polished stones."
Ganyu's cheeks flushed a delicate pink. She was used to being respected, sometimes feared, for her adeptal heritage. She was not used to someone calling a part of it 'pretty' with such disarming sincerity. Every interaction with him was like this. He would find something about her that she took for granted or was even insecure about, and he would wrap it in a layer of simple, profound acceptance.
The evening of the second day was particularly quiet. A gentle rain had begun to fall, pattering softly on the roof tiles and filling the air with the clean scent of wet earth and flowers. Lanterns had been lit in the garden, their warm, golden light reflecting in the droplets that clung to the leaves of the bamboo stalks. Xianyun was in her room, engrossed in a complex mechanical diagram projected in the air before her.
Ren and Ganyu were sitting together on the veranda, watching the rain. Ganyu had brought him a warm cup of cocoa, and he was sipping it carefully, his small hands wrapped around the mug. A comfortable silence had fallen between them, punctuated only by the sound of the rain.
Ganyu was twisting a loose thread on her sleeve, a nervous habit Ren had come to recognize. She had been unusually quiet since she arrived, a thoughtful, hesitant look in her amethyst eyes. Finally, she took a soft breath and turned to him.
"Ren," she began, her voice barely a whisper. "I... I was thinking about something."
He looked up at her, his azure eyes glowing softly in the lantern light. "What is it?"
"Well," she hesitated, her gaze dropping to her hands. "Master... she is your Master. And I am her disciple, too. So, in a way... that makes us... similar. Connected." She was stumbling over her words, her cheeks flushing. The great secretary of the Liyue Qixing, who could draft thousand-word treaties without batting an eye, was struggling to form a single, simple sentence.
"I was just thinking that... 'Miss Ganyu' sounds very formal. And we're not... formal, are we?" She looked at him, her expression a mixture of hope and profound shyness. "If... if you wanted to, of course... I was thinking that maybe... you could call me big sister."
The request hung in the humid, rain-scented air. It was a question freighted with a thousand years of quiet loneliness, of a half-adeptus who had never quite belonged to either the human or adeptal world. It was a plea for a connection, for a family that wasn't defined by duty or contracts, but by simple affection.
Ren didn't need to think. He felt the raw, vulnerable hope radiating from her, and his own heart, which had been so empty for so long in his previous life, swelled in response. He gave her a soft, gentle smile that seemed to push back the evening gloom.
"Okay," he said, his voice clear and sweet. "Big sister Ganyu."
The words struck Ganyu with the force of a physical blow. A visible jolt went through her body. Her breath caught in her throat, and her amethyst eyes went wide, instantly shimmering with unshed tears. It was a sound she had longed to hear without ever knowing it. It was the sound of belonging. It was the sound of family.
A choked sob, a mixture of joy and overwhelming emotion, escaped her lips. In the next instant, she closed the distance between them, her arms wrapping around his small frame in a desperate, all-encompassing hug.
"Oof!" Ren squeaked as the air was forcefully expelled from his lungs.
Ganyu pulled him from the cushion and into her lap, burying her face in the crook of his neck and his messy, soft hair. Her arms locked around him like steel bands wrapped in silk, pressing him so tightly against her that he felt like a plush doll being squeezed by its loving owner. He was completely enveloped, his face pressed against the soft fabric of her dress, which smelled faintly of Qingxin flowers and ink. Her body trembled with the force of her emotions.
He couldn't breathe. He couldn't move. He was being squished with the full, unrestrained love of a half-divine being who had been holding it in for centuries.
But as his lungs began to burn, he didn't feel fear. He felt an absolute, profound sense of safety. He felt cherished. He felt loved. He gave a few muffled, pathetic pats on her back, the best he could manage with his pinned arms.
From the doorway of her room, Xianyun watched the scene, her work forgotten. She took in Ganyu's shaking shoulders and the small, muffled squeaks coming from the boy enveloped in her embrace. A dry, almost imperceptible smile touched her lips.
"Ganyu," she said, her voice cutting calmly through the emotional storm. "Do try not to suffocate my disciple. His constitution is that of a mortal's, and this one has grown rather fond of him."
Ganyu instantly loosened her grip, pulling back with a gasp, her face a mess of joyful tears and mortified embarrassment. "Oh! Ren! I'm so sorry! Did I hurt you?"
Ren, finally able to gasp in a lungful of sweet, rainy air, just looked up at her, his face flushed, his hair even messier than before. He shook his head and, with a small, breathless laugh, he simply snuggled closer against her chest, his head finding a comfortable spot on her shoulder.
"It's okay," he mumbled sleepily. "Big sister."