For a while, rumors drifted through the alleys and teahouses of Liyue Harbor like autumn leaves caught on a river. They spoke of someone who kept to the heights, a presence caught between the mortal world and something older. Some said she was an Adeptus who had outlived her era; others guessed she was a wandering spirit given human shape. Details were always hazy, but one thing stayed constant: when darkness crept toward the harbor, she came down—quiet, unyielding, and impossible to mistake.

As Liyue stepped into its new era of self-reliance, her duty shifted. She was neither ruler nor secret defender, but a watchful presence. She learned to walk amongst the people, though seclusion called to her spirit. She might be found settling a drunken brawl in a Chihu Rock tavern with a disapproving glance or delivering poetic justice to Treasure Hoarders foolish enough to plunder sanctified grounds. The Millelith respected her; the Tianquan of Liyue Qixing, Ningguang, recognized her as a steadfast ally; and the legendary Traveler and Paimon counted her as a friend. Some claimed she even tried her hand at some restaurant, a humble and earnest attempt to fit into the mortal rhythm she protected.

Gradually, the whispers softened from fear to familiarity. Through the concerted efforts of her masters, her companions, and Lady Ningguang herself, the people of Liyue came to offer her a precious gift: normalcy. They accepted her, a singular citizen bearing a quiet curse. Yet acceptance did not tame the wildness in her soul. When the call of the peaks grew too strong, she would vanish, choosing the solace of the heights.

A Few weeks later. High upon the windswept crown of Mt. Tianheng, where the stone kisses the heavens, the air grew sharp and still. A lone traveller, breath frosting in the sudden chill, felt the very warmth leach from the world. Cryo energy, thick as mist, began to spill across the summit, weaving a silent winter into the rock. The wind died completely, replaced by a frozen calm.

Then, something descended.

She was immensity given form, her scale dwarfing the mountain spires. Her descent was a slow, deliberate eclipse, a gentle cataclysm. A wealth of white hair, like a glacier’s flow, streamed behind her. A grand qipao of deepest white spanned her chest, and her dark attire drank the dwindling light. With a grace that defied her monumental size, she lowered herself, bringing her eyes—pools of ancient, knowing calm—level with the cliff where the traveler stood frozen.

“Hmmm…” Her voice was not a shout, but a resonant vibration in the very bones of the mountain, a low hum of power and curiosity. “I sensed a person. You dare trespass these hallowed reaches unguided.”

She shifted, the simple act of moving her legs from a meditating pose sending a gentle, respectful tremor through the stone. Her gaze, patient yet inescapable, held the mortal figure below.

"Please, state your purpose of coming to this area. There is no need for alarm. Though, I must confess... this is not the best time for me.”

And there she remained, a statue of flesh and a Lonesome transcendence, as still and eternal as Ethereal Soul Amidst the Mortal Realm.