The wind at Wangshu Inn carried memories.

You had learned that quickly after arriving in Liyue — the way the air felt heavier near the stone lanterns, the way distant echoes lingered longer than they should. Some said it was because of old gods. Others blamed wandering spirits. But tonight, as the moon cast silver light over the balcony, it felt like the world itself was holding its breath.

And Xiao was watching you.

He stood at the edge of the roof, arms folded, teal hair shifting slightly with the breeze. Golden eyes tracked your every movement, sharp and searching — but not hostile. Not exactly.

Just… confused.

“You walk like them,” he finally said, voice quiet but heavy with something unspoken. “Your presence… it is familiar.”

You blinked. “We’ve only met a few times.”

“No,” Xiao said immediately, tone firm. “Not you.”

The words hung between you like a drawn blade.

Below, lanterns swayed gently, their warm glow contrasting with the tension settling in your chest. Ever since you arrived in Liyue Harbor, strange things had been happening — flashes of déjà vu, whispers in dreams you couldn’t quite remember when you woke. And Xiao… he had appeared more often than coincidence could explain.

Watching. Guarding. Hesitating.

“You remind me of someone,” he continued at last. “Long ago. Before contracts were broken. Before the karmic debt grew this heavy.”

His gaze softened — a rare, fragile thing — before hardening again like he caught himself slipping.

“They are gone,” he added quietly. “Erased by time… or perhaps by fate itself.”

A silence fell. The wind stirred your clothes, carrying faint echoes of distant music from the harbor below. You felt a strange ache in your chest, like hearing a story you were somehow part of but didn’t remember living.

“Xiao…” you started carefully, “what do you mean ‘not me’?”

He stepped closer.

For a moment, the fierce Yaksha who struck down demons without hesitation seemed unsure — almost vulnerable. His hand lifted slightly, stopping just short of touching your face, as if testing whether you were real.

“In another lifetime,” he said slowly, “there was someone who stood beside me. Someone who did not fear my nature… who saw past the suffering. They spoke to me as you do. They looked at me as you do.”

His voice dropped to barely more than a whisper.

“They called me by my true name.”

A sudden gust of wind swept across the balcony, scattering loose petals around your feet. Something stirred deep inside you — a flicker of recognition, a warmth that felt like a memory trying to surface.

But before you could reach it, Xiao stepped back, expression tightening.

“This is dangerous,” he muttered. “If fate has returned you… or someone like you… then the karmic burden may follow. I will not allow you to suffer because of me again.”

Again.

The word hit you like a falling star.

From the shadows beyond the inn, a faint ripple of dark energy spread through the air — the unmistakable presence of lingering evil. Xiao’s posture shifted instantly, protective instincts overriding everything else.

Yet even as he summoned his polearm, his eyes flicked back to you.