A familiar bloodline resonance transmitted through the embrace, carrying a mother's unique tenderness and acceptance.
"My daughter... I've let you suffer," Beisht's voice sounded softly in her ear, choked with emotion, each word wrapped in heartache.
This single word, "daughter," was like a rusty key that unexpectedly unlocked the floodgates of emotion Yunxuan had long suppressed.
All her past grievances: the agony of being controlled by the Abyss, the loneliness of being misunderstood by the Liyue locals, the insecurity of hiding alone in the darkness, all erupted at this moment.
She could no longer hold back. Tears streamed down her pale cheeks, wetting Beisht's robes, and her body trembled violently in the embrace.
At the same time, Yunxuan slowly raised her hands, cautiously and tightly hugging her parents before her.
"Father... Mother..." Her voice was as faint as a mosquito's buzz, thick with sobs, yet incomparably clear, like a child who had finally found her way home and finally dared to call out these two words.
Osial stood beside them, patting her back gently. His movements were clumsy but earnest, his eyes filled with guilt and cherish: guilt for failing to protect her in the past, and cherish for the daughter they had finally found again.
Beisht held her tightly, as if she wanted to melt all the missed companionship and unspoken love of these years into this belated embrace, letting her know that she was no longer alone.
On the quiet street, the figures of the family of three embracing were drawn very long by the setting sun.
Sunlight filtered through the gaps in the leaves, sprinkling upon them with a faint warmth.
Buried in Beisht's embrace, listening to her parents' gentle comfort and feeling the warmth of their palms, Yunxuan finally understood:
The family affection that had been let down, those unfulfilled expectations, would all be slowly filled and made whole under her parents' companionship.
And she, in the name of "Yunxuan", would carry Yunqin's wish and live her life well.
She would stand in "her" place, protecting this Liyue land that they both cherished, as well as this belated yet sufficiently warm family affection.
-
In the Northland Bank office, heavy curtains sealed out the light of Liyue Harbor, leaving only a brass desk lamp glowing in the corner.
Under the dim yellow light, scattered documents, a shattered porcelain cup, and a crooked bookshelf pieced together a room in complete disarray.
Tartaglia slumped in an office chair with a broken leg, its back creaking as if sighing silently on his behalf.
His fingertips repeatedly traced the rough whale stone carving in his palm. The stone was pitted and uneven, the whale's dorsal fin twisted like a broken twig, and even its eyes were just two shallow pits carelessly scratched out with a fingernail.
The edges still bore the tiny marks Yunqin had deliberately made when she'd teased him for being "clumsy with his hands."
Yet this very object, something that couldn't even be considered a "semi-finished product," was gripped so tightly his knuckles turned white. The rough texture of the stone's edge against his fingertips had become the only "past" he could touch at this moment.
His gaze fell upon the tabletop, where several Rex Lapis figurines lay quietly in a transparent gift box. The black silk lining made the white marble statues look even more gentle, their features polished smooth and delicate.
Those were the ones he and Yunqin had carved together at a stone carving stall when she "invited" him to go shopping in Liyue Harbor.
And these exquisitely wrapped ones were the ones he had secretly asked the owner to pack.
At the time, he had been thinking that one day, he would give the figurines to her as "compensation" for a lost sparring match, and then take the opportunity to confess his feelings.
But now, the ribbon on the gift box was still tied in a beautiful bow, yet this cherished thought would never be delivered.
"Heh." Tartaglia let out a low laugh, his voice laced with thick, irreducible self-mockery and despair, his very breath carrying a heavy chill.
Scenes flashed uncontrollably through his mind: on the Guili Plains, he had splashed Yunqin's hair with blades of water, and she had raised the Geo element in defiance to counter-attack, water droplets sliding down her temples as she smiled brighter than the sun;
at a table in Wanmin Restaurant, she had taken advantage of his inattention, snatched the largest piece of grilled fish from his bowl, chewed it with grease all over her mouth, and even made a face at him;
at the Golden House that time, he had clearly seen the Abyss's traces, yet because of the contract, he could only remain stationary without taking action...
Each scene was like a fine needle, stabbing viciously into his heart, a dense and aching pain.
Fortunately, there was still this.
He slowly took a dark red brocade box from his coat, and the moment he opened it, a Gnosis shimmering with a faint golden light met his eyes.
The divine power of the Geo Archon, Morax, slowly flowed within it, as warm as Liyue's sunlight, yet it made Tartaglia's heart sink a little deeper.
He and Zhongli had a contract: as long as he cooperated in the Golden House to lure Lumine and Paimon away, helping them to lure out the Abyss beings hidden in Liyue, Zhongli would hand over the Gnosis that the Tsaritsa of Snezhnaya wanted to him.
This was also why he had retreated so quickly after seeing Zhongli and Venti on the battlefield. The mission was complete, and as for whether the Abyssal entity would be captured in the end, it was none of his business.
But when he thought of how Yunqin's death was tied to his "cooperation," an indescribable wave of frustration and guilt welled up in Tartaglia's heart.
He slammed his fist onto the office desk, and the wooden surface instantly shattered, sending documents and ornaments scattering across the floor. The whale stone carving was also sent flying.
Just as it was about to smash to pieces on the ground, ice crystals with a cold chill suddenly materialized out of thin air.
That burst of ice energy was like a gentle hand, softly lifting the stone carving and steadily placing it into the palm of his hand.
"To think that a Fatui Harbinger, in all his glory, would end up looking like such a mess over a woman. How disappointing."
A cool female voice echoed from the windowsill, carrying unhidden sarcasm, piercing Tartaglia's ears like ice awls.
He froze completely and snapped his head up.
A young woman leaned against the windowsill, her silver-white hair cascading like moonlight, with un-melted ice crystals still clinging to the ends. Her pale blue eyes were as cold as the glaciers of Snezhnaya, devoid of even a trace of emotion.
It was Anastasia.
She seemed to have stepped out of a dream woven from ice, snow, and starlight. Her silver-white hair cascaded down like a waterfall of moonlight, shimmering with a delicate, silken luster in the soft light.
The golden hair ornaments adorning her locks seemed to have captured fragments of starlight, adding a touch of divine serenity to her cool demeanor.
Her ice-blue eyes were as clear as a deep lake in the far north, hiding a subtle detachment within their stillness. Yet, when she gazed, it was as if the brilliance of the entire starry river was contained within them.
Her dress was a dreamlike tapestry, a gown of pale purple and pure white.
The star-shaped patterns upon it resembled scattered stars, while the outer cloak of azure blue was like a pristine ice field.
The beaded chains and pendants dangling from its edges swayed gently with her movements, scattering fine ripples of light. Every detail was as exquisite as a creation of the gods.
She appeared both as an unreachable goddess of ice and snow, and yet, within this cool aura, a fragile tenderness quietly revealed itself.