The urgency of the revelation regarding his past did not equate to a frantic rush for the door. Ren knew that running to Mondstadt in a panic would solve nothing. He needed to be grounded, to be rested, and to fully integrate the changes within him before facing the witches of the Hexenzirkel.
So, the house on Feiyun Slope remained a sanctuary of slow, golden days.
He spent long, lazy mornings with Ganyu, recounting the parts of his Sumeru journey that didn't involve battling Harbingers or erasing gods. He told her about the camping trip in the Avidya Forest, describing the bioluminescent flowers and Tighnari's lecture on mushroom safety. He told her about Collei, and Ganyu listened with a soft, empathetic smile, happy that he was making new friends everywhere.
He showed her the souvenirs—spices for Xiangling, a new, sturdy travel notebook for Keqing, and for Ganyu, a dried, pressed Padisarah flower, preserved in a block of clear resin.
Xianyun, having decided that the comforts of the Harbor (and the proximity to her favorite disciple) outweighed the solitude of the peaks for the moment, was a frequent guest. She was particularly enamored with the knowledge Ren had brought back from the House of Daena.
Ren laid out the notes he had taken from Madam Faruzan's lectures. He explained the mechanics of the Primal Constructs, the way the desert civilization had utilized light refraction and magnetic suspension.
He brought out the small, pyramid-shaped model Faruzan had given him.
"Look at this, Master," Ren said, tapping the device. It hummed to life, its triangular segments separating and rotating in a silent, anti-gravity dance. "There's no propeller. No wind. It uses a polarized magnetic field generated by the internal core to push against the natural magnetic field of the ground. It's frictionless."
Xianyun adjusted her glasses, leaning in so close her nose almost touched the floating metal. "Fascinating," she murmured. "If we could replicate this suspension array on a larger scale… the Cloud-Piercer would not need to expend energy on constant vertical thrust. We could redirect that power to speed. It would be quieter. Smoother."
She looked at Ren, her mind racing. "We must source the correct conductive metals. This red-gold alloy… it seems to contain traces of Scarlet Quartz."
Ren nodded, then reached into his bag for another stack of books. These were the ones he had been most secretive about. They were heavy tomes filled with diagrams of control panels, holographic displays, and rune-based logic gates used by King Deshret's priests to command their machines.
"And these?" Xianyun asked, flipping through a page dense with ancient syntax. "These are control schemas. Why the interest? Our steering wheel and pedal system is perfectly adequate."
Ren hesitated for a split second. He traced the diagram of a flat, glowing panel.
"I just… like the interfaces," he said, keeping his voice casual. "They found a way to control complex machines with just a touch of a finger on a flat surface. No levers, no heavy wheels. It's… elegant. I want to learn how they translated tactile input into mechanical action."
It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the whole truth. In his mind, he wasn't just seeing ancient control panels. He was seeing the precursor to something from his old world. Tablets. Touchscreens. Perhaps even a way to visualize the data he now pulled from the ley lines. But that was a project for later.
"Hmph. Elegant, perhaps, but tactile feedback is crucial for piloting," Xianyun critiqued, though she looked pleased by his intellectual curiosity. "But study it. Knowledge is never wasted."
It was during one of these technical sessions that Ren decided to demonstrate his new, intangible gifts.
"Master, Big Sister," he said, clearing the table. "There's something else. Something that I got during my visit to Irminsul."
He explained the sensation of the world whispering to him, the footnotes that appeared in his mind when he looked at a plant or a stone. And then, he explained the voice.
"Telepathy?" Ganyu's eyes went wide. "Like… adeptal projection?"
"Similar," Ren said. "But it feels more… direct."
They decided to test it immediately.
Ganyu volunteered to go to the market to buy ingredients for dinner. "I will go to Second Life," she said. "It is several streets away."
Ren sat in the living room, closing his eyes. He waited a few minutes, visualizing Ganyu walking through the crowds. He couldn't see her, but he could still feel… a presence. A warm, gentle, icy-blue signature in his mind that felt like home.
Big Sister? he projected the thought, focusing on that specific feeling. Can you hear me?
A moment later, Ganyu's voice echoed in his head, clear and startled. "Ren? Oh my! It is so loud! I mean… clear. I am at the shop now."
It works, Ren thought back, grinning. Buy the sweet flowers, please.
"I will. This is… amazing."
The connection was stable, unaffected by the walls or the distance within the district.
However, the second test proved more limited.
Ren went out onto the balcony overlooking the street. He looked down at the flow of people. He focused on a random Millelith guard standing watch.
I wonder if this can work, Ren thought, focusing on the man.
Immediately, a grumbling voice filtered into his mind. "…boots are too tight. Should have bought the larger size. Lunch in twenty minutes… hope it's not fish again…"
Ren blinked, severing the connection. He could hear him.
Then, he closed his eyes and tried to focus on someone he couldn't see. He tried to find Chef Mao at Wanmin Restaurant, which was streets away and out of sight.
He pushed his mind out, searching. He heard a cacophony of murmurs, a buzz of mental static, but he couldn't isolate a voice. He couldn't find the target.
"I can't do it," he reported back to Xianyun, who was observing him with interest. "If I don't know where they are, or if I can't see them… I can't hear them. It's just noise."
"But you could speak to Ganyu," Xianyun noted. "And she was out of sight."
"That's different," Ren said, furrowing his brow. "With Ganyu… I know what she feels like. Inside. It's like… I have her address memorized. But with strangers, I need to see them to get the address."
Xianyun nodded slowly, a theory forming. "It is a matter of resonance," she concluded. "The Irminsul connects all things, but to navigate that network, you need a coordinate."
She gestured to Ganyu, who had just returned with the groceries. "For those you share a bond with—Ganyu, myself, Ningguang—you have established a deep, personal connection. You know the 'frequency' of their soul, their aura. You can find them in the dark because their light is familiar to you."
She looked out at the street. "But for strangers, you have no reference data. You need visual contact to establish the initial link, to 'read' their surface thoughts."
"So I can call my family from anywhere," Ren summarized, smiling at Ganyu. "But I can't spy on strangers unless I'm looking right at them."
"A useful limitation," Xianyun said. "It prevents you from being overwhelmed by the thoughts of the entire city."
Ren touched his forehead. He was essentially now a walking radio receiver for the souls of those he loved.
"It's a good power," Ganyu said softly, unpacking the sweet flowers. "It means… we are never really apart."