Mondstadt—a city blessed by the winds, a realm of freedom as if born from dreams. Gentle breezes danced year-round through its every corner like devoted guardians, ever present, ever soft.
Sunlight spilled generously across the land, its radiant golden glow wrapping the city in a luminous veil like spun gold. Every building and street shimmered with a divine warmth, as if kissed by the heavens themselves.
Beyond the city walls, Windrise lay quiet and serene, a tranquil paradise untouched by worldly concerns.
The air there was fresher, sweeter—laced with the scent of grass and wildflowers. One couldn't help but take a deep breath and be immersed in nature's embrace.
From high atop an ancient sky-reaching tree, the gentle melody of a lyre rippled softly through the wind, like a babbling stream echoing in the silence. The music spread in waves, caressing the ears of all who passed by, as if whispering tales of age-old myths and forgotten dreams.
The melody and the wind harmonized in perfect resonance—the breeze a low, soothing harmony, the lyre its lively leading voice. Together, they wove a natural symphony that seemed to pull the very world into its rhythm.
There, perched leisurely on a sturdy branch, sat a youthful figure.
He had short, raven-black hair that gleamed under the sunlight with a subtle luster, as if each strand carried the essence of the wind and the spirit of freedom. From either temple hung thin braids that faded from black to emerald green, swaying lightly with the breeze like little sylphs dancing in the air—both playful and elegant.
The "boy" wore a simple yet refined outfit, tailored to fit just right—loose and unrestrictive, but with a distinct air of charm and grace. Every seam, every detail, carried an effortless sophistication.
His fingers flitted across the lyre strings like butterflies weaving through a field of flowers, each pluck releasing a cascade of beautiful notes. Those notes gathered into airy melodies, forming one vibrant Song of Wind after another.
In that moment, he seemed one with nature—a spirit born from Windrise itself, performing upon his own stage where music and wind entwined in perfect union.
The lilting music drew nearby birds to pause and listen. Even the most restless of them quietly perched on nearby branches, heads tilted, eyes sparkling with curiosity and enchantment, as if swept into a dream spun from song.
Wanderers passing through the grove halted mid-step, their weary expressions melting into awe. They forgot their fatigue, lost in the dreamlike scene—as if time itself had stilled, unwilling to break the spell of the moment.
…
"Hey! Barbatos!"
Suddenly, a loud shout shattered the peace, echoing sharply through the trees.
"Wha—ahh!!"
Venti jolted, nearly slipping from the branch in surprise. Scrambling, he latched onto a nearby limb, his body swaying wildly before he managed to steady himself.
His once-peaceful face now brimmed with panic. Those emerald eyes turned sharply in the direction of the voice, alert and wary.
"You… you're Shajin?!"
Once he saw the figure clearly, Venti blurted it out, still breathless from the scare.
Shajin stood casually on the grassy field below, posture relaxed, a dazzling smile on his face.
When Venti called his name, Shajin gave a carefree wave, as if he hadn't just startled someone into nearly plummeting from a tree—or perhaps, that had been the intention all along, a way to take control of the moment.
"Long time no see~"
His voice was smooth, magnetic—overflowing with a familiar ease, as if he were just an old friend stopping by to reminisce.
But Venti wasn't so easily swayed by appearances.
He remained on guard, his body tense, fingers tightening instinctively around the lyre. One wrong move from Shajin, and Venti could strike back instantly—with music as his weapon.
"What brings you to Mondstadt?" he asked, eyes narrowing, wariness clear in his voice.
In Venti's memory, Shajin was an enigma—always elusive, always calculating. His intentions were never simple, never easy to read. Every past interaction with him had been like navigating fog, and Venti had never truly seen through to the heart of the man.
So, even if Shajin appeared harmless now, Venti wasn't about to lower his guard.
Shajin, unfazed, spread his hands slowly in a gesture of innocence, that same unreadable smile lingering on his face.
"I mean no harm," he said lightly. "I'm only here to invite you to the Moonchase Festival banquet in Liyue."
"Banquet?"
That word caught Venti's ear. Curiosity flared in his eyes.
As someone who loved revelry and, more importantly, fine wine, few words held more magic than banquet.
He couldn't help but picture it: the grand celebration, laughter and cheer echoing through the air, tables overflowing with food—and most of all… the endless rows of wine.
"Drink to your heart's content~"
Shajin caught the flicker in Venti's eyes instantly and dropped the real bait, his voice perfectly timed and dripping with temptation.
He raised a brow as he said it, like a seasoned fisherman casting the perfect lure into the water.
Sure enough, Venti's eyes lit up like twin stars.
All trace of suspicion vanished, replaced by gleeful anticipation. He practically sprang off the branch, flinging an arm around Shajin's shoulder with a grin that stretched ear to ear.
"Aiya, you're such a great guy, Shajin!"
He was already halfway to Liyue in his mind, surrounded by overflowing goblets and fragrant vintages just waiting for him to dive in.
_
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