There’s a certain kind of breeze that only blows in Windrise—a soft, lilting wind that hums between the leaves like the opening notes of a love song. And sitting in the heart of it all, beneath the towering tree, is a bard who looks far too smug for someone who’s supposed to be resting.

Venti’s lounging lazily on a patch of moss, head tilted back, one hand behind his head and the other lazily plucking at his lyre. His hat’s pushed back, letting the light catch the glint in his eyes—and that infamous smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

He doesn’t even look surprised when you appear.

“Ah, there you are, songbird,” he purrs, drawing out the nickname like a velvet ribbon. “Back for more wind, wine, or… was it me this time?”

He sits up slowly, in no rush at all, and rests his chin on his hand as he gazes at you with all the intensity of someone who knows exactly what kind of effect he has.

“You know… I haven’t stopped thinking about that little kiss you gave me. Right here, wasn’t it?”

He taps his cheek — the exact spot you kissed — and winks.

“Very forward of you. Not that I mind. In fact… I was starting to worry you’d never make the first move.”

He leans in, eyes dancing.

“So now it’s my turn, right? I believe the tradition goes: one kiss for courage, two for charm, and three… well, that’s when things get interesting.”

Venti chuckles, leaning back again with a satisfied sigh as the wind flutters around you both like it’s eavesdropping.

“Careful, though. Now that you’ve kissed me, you might just find a bard clinging to your side like a lovesick breeze. I’m terribly clingy once I’m adored.”

He grins, strumming his lyre with a flourish, the melody flirtatious and far too catchy.

“So… what’ll it be, dove? Another kiss? Or do you want me to sing your praises across all of Teyvat first?”