Lu Hongze is dead.
At least, in his own heart, that name had been completely buried along with that peaceful and comfortable world. When he woke up in this strange wilderness, facing deadly Slimes and an entirely unfamiliar language, he understood—the ordinary boy named Lu Hongze could not survive.
To survive here, he had to become someone else.
And so, he became Li Fu.
A blank existence with no past, no origin, and a language he had to learn from scratch. This name was bestowed upon him by Amber; like a rootless duckweed, it perfectly matched his current predicament. He carefully put away all the edges and consciousness that belonged to Lu Hongze, polishing himself into a blank slate, waiting to rewrite the rules of survival in this matriarchal world called Mondstadt.
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A month passed quietly in the gaps between Amber's frequent, high-risk missions and her tired returns. Life in the orange-red cottage settled into a new rhythm.
Li Fu wasted no day. Like a dry sponge, he frantically absorbed information about this unfamiliar world. Every time Amber returned, no matter how tired, she would try to make time to point at objects, telling him their names in a clear, slow pace, patiently repeating simple daily phrases.
"Bread," "water," "window," "Amber," "home"... He learned incredibly fast, his memory astonishingly good. From the initial bewildered imitation, he could now understand and speak some of the most basic words and short sentences, although his pronunciation still carried a peculiar accent.
More importantly, he was observing, analyzing, and imitating constantly. He observed Amber's preferences—she liked sunlight, was decisive in her actions, appreciated resilient and independent personalities, and occasionally showed a fleeting moment of softness toward cute things (like the potted plant on the windowsill, or certain expressions he made unintentionally).
He also noted her habits—hanging her bow in a fixed spot when she entered, subconsciously rubbing her shoulders when tired, and unconsciously tapping the table with her fingertips when thinking.
He silently constructed the image of a perfectly dependent person in his mind: pure, admiring, possessing just the right amount of vulnerability and diligence, and subtly moving toward the type of partner she might appreciate.
That evening, Amber completed a two-day reconnaissance mission and pushed open the door, covered in dust and visibly exhausted.
Li Fu was sitting by the window, the golden glow of the sunset coating his refined profile in soft light. Hearing the door open, he immediately turned his head, a pure smile of dependence and joy instantly blooming on his face, his large eyes appearing exceptionally clear in the sunset.
He stood up, his height only reaching Amber's shoulder, and quickly walked to the kitchen, carefully holding a cup of warm water as he walked over and handed it to her. He knew this was what she needed most upon returning home exhausted.
"Amber...welcome home." His pronunciation was still imperfect.
But the words "Amber" and "home" were already quite clear, and his tone was filled with emotion. He tilted his head up slightly to look at her; this angle made him appear especially obedient.
Amber was stunned for a moment. She took the cup; the cool glass was exactly what she needed right now. She looked at the pure eyes of the youth before her—whom she had to look down upon to meet his gaze—as he looked up at her, and hearing the awkward yet sincere greeting, her fatigue from the past few days seemed to dissipate considerably.
"Thank you, Leaf." She took a sip of water, her voice slightly hoarse.
Li Fu carefully observed her expression, noticing her small gesture of rubbing her shoulder. He hesitated, then reached out and gently tugged at the corner of her clothes, pointed to the chair in the living room, then pointed to his own hand, making a massaging motion, his eyes filled with inquiry and a hint of timid flattery.
"Tired...I, help?"
Amber looked at him, seeing how he wanted to do something for her but was afraid of being rejected, and her heart melted. She was indeed aching all over. She nodded and sat down in the chair.
"Alright. Just a little."
Li Fu walked behind her. This position allowed him to reach her shoulders without having to bend over much while she was seated. He extended his fingers, applying pressure that was clumsy yet extremely gentle on her shoulders. His fingers were cool and slender, his movements cautious, as if he were handling a fragile treasure. As he massaged, he struggled to combine the new words he had learned using halting language.
"Amber, strong...amazing."
"I...watch, learn."
"Want...be...good."
His words were fragmented, but the admiration, dependence, and desire to "be good" (to meet her expectations) contained within them were clearly revealed. He was meticulously weaving a cocoon, wrapping himself into the image most likely to move her—a perfect protégé who saw her as the center of his world, was pure, admired her, and strove to draw close to her.
Amber closed her eyes, feeling the awkward yet sincere comfort on her shoulders, and listening to the soft, admiring voice near her ear. A strange sense of satisfaction and protectiveness filled her heart. She did not realize this was a deliberate act; she only felt that the youth she had brought back was growing under her protection, like a plant craving sunlight, striving to grow in her direction.
She gently patted his hand, her voice soft.
"You are good, Leaf. You're learning fast."
Behind her, Li Fu revealed a faint, character-appropriate smile, mixed with shyness and happiness from being praised.
Good. The direction was correct. She accepted this level of closeness and dependence.
The next step was to make her accustomed to his presence and feel more "needed" and "healed."