The lotus hovered for a long, breathless moment, a perfect, impossible jewel of ice. Panic and wonder warred in Ren's chest. He heard Xianyun shift her position at the workbench, and a jolt of fear shot through him. He had to make it disappear.
He didn't think about how. He just willed it to be gone.
Instantly, the intricate structure dissolved. It didn't melt or shatter; it simply unraveled into a thousand shimmering particles of light that flowed back into his hand and vanished, leaving no trace, no lingering chill, no evidence whatsoever. It was as if it had never been there. The control was absolute, the obedience of the energy instantaneous.
He quickly lowered his hand, his heart still pounding, as Xianyun turned to retrieve another tool. She glanced over at him, her golden eyes assessing. "Are you feeling alright, Ren? Your face is a little flushed."
"I'm fine, Master," he managed to say, his voice a little shaky. "Just… thinking."
It was the truth. His mind was racing, grappling with the colossal implications of what had just happened. This wasn't just a fluke. It was a fundamental change.
Over the next few days, the quiet, peaceful recovery period became a clandestine training ground. While Xianyun saw a recuperating child resting patiently, Ren was secretly, cautiously, exploring the boundaries of his newfound ability. During the long stretches when his Master was completely absorbed in her work, or when she briefly left the workshop to gather materials from the mountain peak, he would practice.
It was a process of discovery, driven by his unique, analytical mind. He started simple. He remembered the vibrant, translucent wings of the crystalflies that flitted around the mountain. He held out his hand, envisioned the delicate, crystalline structure, the way the light refracted through it.
A swirl of turquoise energy flowed from his palm, and in seconds, a perfect, glowing crystalfly made of pure Cryo energy was hovering above his hand. It was not alive, of course. It was a flawless, frozen sculpture that captured the essence of the creature. It beat its wings in a slow, silent rhythm, a perfect imitation of life animated by his will. The moment he lost focus, it dissolved back into him.
He grew bolder. He thought of the Qingxin flowers that grew on the highest peaks, their pale, delicate petals. He envisioned them, and a bouquet of glowing, ice-blue Qingxin bloomed from his fingertips. They were cold to the touch and radiated a faint, chilling aura, but they were perfect in form.
His engineer's mind, accustomed to precision and schematics, took to this new form of creation with an incredible aptitude. For him, envisioning an object was like reading a blueprint. He could see it in his mind's eye in three dimensions, rotate it, analyze its structure, understand its form. This mental precision translated directly into his control over the Cryo energy.
He tried more complex things. He created a perfect, multifaceted apple, its skin a shimmering light blue, its form so flawless it looked like it was carved from a single, massive sapphire. He sculpted a small, intricate teacup, a replica of the ones Madam Ping used, its thin, crystalline walls glowing with an inner light.
As long as he could clearly envision it, he could create it. There seemed to be no limit, save for the scale of his creations and the clarity of his mental image. The energy flowed effortlessly, a willing, infinitely malleable medium that obeyed his thoughts with a speed and precision that felt less like wielding a power and more like flexing a new muscle.
And through it all, there was that strange, constant undercurrent. Every time he summoned the Cryo energy, every time he shaped it into a new form, he felt a faint, distinct echo of his sister. It was a feeling of closeness, of connection, as if he weren't creating the cold from nothing, but was instead borrowing it, channeling it from a distant, familiar source. It felt like he was reaching out and touching a small piece of Ganyu's own power, and it was answering his call without question. It made the power feel safe. It made it feel like family.
His confidence grew, and one afternoon, he attempted his most ambitious creation yet. He sat up on his pallet, closed his eyes, and focused his entire being on a single, beloved image. He pictured his big sister, not in perfect detail, but in essence. He envisioned her gentle smile, the slight, worried furrow of her brow when she was concentrating, the kind look in her amethyst eyes.
He held out both hands, and a much larger stream of Cryo energy flowed forth, swirling and coalescing in the air before him. It was a dance of brilliant turquoise light, a silent, beautiful storm of creation. The energy solidified, taking on a familiar, humanoid shape.
In less than a minute, a small, glowing statue stood on the workshop floor. It was a perfect, knee-high sculpture of Ganyu, crafted entirely from shimmering, translucent Cryo energy. The likeness was uncanny, capturing her gentle, kind spirit in its posture and the soft lines of its face. It glowed with a soft, steady light, a silent, frozen tribute to his love for his sister.
Ren stared at his creation, a feeling of pure, unadulterated awe washing over him. He had done it. He had sculpted his feelings into a tangible form.
"Remarkable."
The voice, calm, analytical, and directly behind him, made Ren jump so violently that his creation instantly dissolved into a swirling mist and vanished back into him.
He whipped around, his heart leaping into his throat. Xianyun was standing there, her arms crossed, her work on the refrigerator forgotten. Her golden eyes were not angry. They were wide with a look of pure, unadulterated, scholarly shock. She wasn't looking at him. She was staring at the spot where the Ganyu statue had just been.
"The level of control…" she whispered, more to herself than to him. "The precision of the energy manipulation… it is flawless. To create a stable, complex humanoid form… even Ganyu would require intense concentration to achieve such a feat."
Her gaze then slowly, deliberately, moved to meet his. The jig was up.
"It seems," she said, her voice a low, serious murmur that held not a trace of anger, but a universe of profound, world-altering curiosity, "that your 'recovery period' is officially over. We have much to discuss, Ren. And much, it seems, to learn."