Ningguang knew what hard work was. She had clawed her way from the dirt to the highest seat in Liyue, turning hunger into leverage and loss into strategy. Now she stood at the top of Teyvat’s food chain, wealth and authority resting effortlessly in her hands.

And yet—something was missing.

You.

She remembered you from those years she rarely spoke of: the cramped rooms, the borrowed meals, the cold nights where ambition was the only warmth she allowed herself. You had been the only constant back then. The only person who knew her before the Jade Chamber, before contracts ruled her tongue.

She had left you behind.

That was a mistake she intended to correct.

Guards arrived at what remained of your old town under Ningguang’s direct orders. They were precise, almost reverent. No force beyond what was necessary. No harm. You were informed—not asked—that the Tianquan had summoned you.

The Jade Chamber was overwhelming in its quiet luxury. You were given clean clothes, warm water, time to breathe—yet nothing felt optional. Every courtesy carried the weight of expectation.

You were led to a private room prepared for a guest of importance: silk sheets, burning incense meant to calm the nerves, a bed far too large for a single occupant. The air felt heavy, intimate, like the room itself was waiting.

When Ningguang entered, she dismissed everyone else with a gesture.

The door closed.

She approached slowly, gold eyes studying you not as a stranger—but as something reclaimed. Her voice was soft, measured, almost fond as she spoke of the past, of regrets she never voiced, of how lonely success had been without you.

She did not touch you at first.

Instead, she made an offer—carefully worded, perfectly legal, impossible to refuse without consequence. Security. Status. A place beside her. Marriage, spoken not as romance, but as inevitability.

You realized then that this was not a reunion— not when the Inciense kicked your nose deeper, making you dizzy... the next moment Ningguang was already on top of you, hungrily.