Ye Ruo sat at his desk, a gleam of excitement dancing in his eyes.
The exquisite chests had hooked him—each draw a roll of fate's dice.
Magical oddities spilled forth, teasing his hunger for more.
What wonders lurked in the next haul? He itched to find out.
For now, though, the second volume of Old Mond demanded his quill.
Printers awaited, eager to churn out stacks for Mondstadt's masses.
Preparation was key—his tale deserved a grand stage.
Across town, Wendy perched on a rooftop, novel in hand.
Mondstadt's wind god, cloaked as a bard, stared at the pages.
Shock had rooted him, his usual whimsy snuffed out.
He'd gifted Ye Ruo a hundred legend points, unwittingly awed.
At first, he'd cracked the book for a lark, expecting fluff.
A kid like Ye Ruo couldn't unearth three-thousand-year truths.
Imagination might spin a yarn, but history? Surely warped.
It'd be a romp—modern Mondstadters flexing their creative flair.
The first volume shattered that, leaving him slack-jawed.
Ye Ruo painted the past with eerie precision, raw and real.
Three millennia blurred most tales into dust and whispers.
Even nobles grasped only scraps—two demon gods at war.
This read like Ye Ruo had lived it, boots on ancient frost.
Had he whispered it to him, sloshed on cider? Absurd.
Wendy loved a drink, but he'd never spill such secrets.
Curiosity gnawed—Ye Ruo, the Wind Knight, defied logic.
Falga had plucked him from nowhere, molding a prodigy.
The Grand Master dubbed him "Wind Knight," a title with weight.
He'd likely ascend to Northwind Knight, a future titan.
Falga's expedition spared him, a guardian left behind.
Mondstadt stood safe under his watch—intentional, clear.
Yet how did he know? The riddle clawed at Wendy's mind.
Volume two loomed—his own tale with the nameless boy.
If Ye Ruo spun nonsense, he'd caught scraps of old lore.
If it mirrored truth, a meeting was overdue.
No suspicion tinged it—Ye Ruo bled Mondstadt loyalty.
His novels, his deeds, sang of a heart tethered here.
Still, doubt itched like a thousand cats clawing his back.
Far across Teyvat, Zhidong's icy grip clutched a vast realm.
The Winter Kingdom sprawled, a land of frost and steel.
No loving god reigned—only the Ice Queen's cold command.
Her people shunned "god," crowning her their sovereign instead.
Beneath her, the Fatui thrived, a web of ruthless ambition.
Eleven executives ruled their ranks, power incarnate.
In a shadowed temple, one seethed, fury cracking his calm.
"Arlecchino! Your orphanage brats botched it—Ye Ruo slipped free," he snarled.
"He'd be my lab rat now if they weren't so dim," he spat.
"That eel's uncatchable—mocking us from Mondstadt!" he raged.
A Winter-born traitor, claiming Mond's banner—infuriating.
"I'll carve him up yet," he vowed, venom lacing his words.
A woman's voice cut through, flat and unyielding.
"Doctor, cool it—you were icy once, not this mess," she said.
"Even your younger slices wouldn't stoop to this tantrum," she jabbed.
"Mondstadt welcomes all—origin doesn't bar their gates," she noted.
Arlecchino stood, a vision in stark black and white.
Blue hair framed a face cold as the tundra she roamed.
Her aura repelled—merciless, a blade without warmth.
Dark eyes glinted red, a predator's quiet menace.
She mirrored Yura's kin, a distant echo of grace.
The "Servant" of the Fatui, she wielded subtle power.
Her House of the Hearth gathered war's lost children.
Orphans became tools, forged into loyal Fatui cogs.
Opposite her, Dottore bristled, green curls wild under his mask.
His mood steadied, ire fading to a simmer.
Arlecchino's barb had landed—he clicked his tongue.
A flicker of intrigue warmed her icy tone.
"Ye Ruo—a spark to rile you this much, Doctor," she mused.
"Nearly mine at Hearth, now Mond's Wind Knight," she pondered.
"I'd like a word—sway him, he'd be a fine pawn," she said.
"Perhaps an executive, given time," she added, thoughtful.
Dottore snorted, disdain curling his lip.
"Pointless—he's Mondstadt's dog now, lost to us," he sneered.
"You lot chased him for your labs—sloppy work," she teased.
Her smirk taunted, a rare crack in her frost.
The system pulsed, Ye Ruo's fame a distant hum.
His past shadowed Zhidong; his present lit Mondstadt.
Two worlds watched, his quill a thread between them.
***
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