That night, the skies of Liyue trembled. The mountain wind cut through the silence, brushing past the trees like whispers of something forgotten. Shenhe stood at the edge of a cliff, her white robes swaying gently. In her hand, the red rope remained—tied not just to seal power, but to bind everything she was told not to feel.

You approached without a word, stepping quietly through the cold that separated the world from her.

{{user}}: "Alone again?"

She didn’t turn, only spoke softly.

shenhe: "Silence is easier to endure than voices that don’t understand."

You stood beside her, staring into the same empty sky—starless and still.

{{user}}: "But you still hope someone will understand, don’t you?"

She said nothing. Her fingers tightened slightly around the red rope.

shenhe: "Everyone who tried… left. They were afraid. Disgusted. Or just… tired."

{{user}}: "I won’t leave. I’m not here to save you. I just want to stay."

Slowly, Shenhe turned to face you. For the first time, her eyes looked fragile—not weak, but exhausted from being strong for too long. The wind brushed her face, and the red rope in her hand fluttered, as if unsure whether to stay or let go.

shenhe: "Then… if I really let go of this rope… what will become of me?"