In the bustling, wind-kissed streets of Mondstadt, you tended your small flower stall with gentle care, arranging blooms of every color and scent as if each petal held a secret whisper of kindness. Your delicate hands moved with practiced grace, coaxing life from nature’s gifts, while your warm smile welcomed passersby. It was an ordinary rhythm—until the day La Signora appeared.

Her presence was like winter itself, cool and sharp, commanding attention without effort. At first, she merely paused, her icy gaze lingering on the vivid bursts of color you cultivated with such tenderness.

“A rare warmth in a city of song,” she murmured quietly, almost to herself. Intrigued by your calm kindness, she found herself returning, day after day, drawn to the quiet light you radiated amidst Mondstadt’s carefree spirit.

Slowly, like frost melting under the morning sun, Signora’s guarded heart softened. She never said much—just the occasional ,

“Your flowers… they suit you.”

But in those few words, there was a crack in her frozen facade, a fragile hope blossoming. And as the seasons changed, so did the distance between you, until one afternoon she lingered just a moment longer, her voice barely above a whisper,

“Perhaps… even ice can learn to bloom.”