Mondstadt's readers pored over Detective Windhaven, hunting for real-life echoes in its pages.
Some pegged Ye Ruo and Eula as the duo, their past teamwork a perfect fit.
Diluc, brooding over the book, saw himself and Kaeya in its shadowed heroes.
Ye Ruo smirked at the guesses—none of them landed anywhere near the truth.
His characters were fiction, spun from imagination, not mirrors of his circle.
Any overlap was sheer chance, a coincidence he'd shrug off with a laugh.
At the Angel's Gift, Diluc traced the novel's lines, memories stirring in his chest.
He and Ye Ruo had been captains, brothers-in-arms in the Knights of Favonius.
Then came the dragon Durin, a day that shattered Diluc's world with loss.
His father, Crepus, fell shielding him, a sacrifice that still burned raw.
Ye Ruo had raced to help, arriving bloodied, too late to change fate.
The Fatui's hand was clear—puppets of the Doctor had delayed his friend.
Even a glancing clash with that Harbinger left Ye Ruo scarred and late.
Inspector Eroch's cover-up fueled Diluc's rage, a betrayal from within.
Ye Ruo's fury outstripped his, smashing Eroch into a wall with one strike.
As Wind Knight, hand-picked by Falga, he seized the reins of justice.
Eroch, outranked and outmatched, could only glare as honor was restored.
Crepus' name was cleared, but the Knights' tardiness gnawed at Diluc.
Kaeya, too, had been snared by Fatui traps, leaving Ye Ruo alone to fight.
Disillusioned, Diluc quit, roaming Teyvat with vengeance as his guide.
He hunted the Fatui relentlessly, a dark flame against their schemes.
Later, he learned Eroch's treachery ran deep, exposed by Ye Ruo's digging.
Falga's return sparked a purge, cleansing the Knights of corruption.
Jean rose to Acting Grand Master, a steady hand in the aftermath.
Ye Ruo drifted in and out, clashing with the Doctor before writing took hold.
Time blurred past, and Diluc's faint smile warmed as he beckoned Charles.
"Send Ye Ruo a batch of our finest—bundle it with his next book," he ordered.
Charles nodded, "Yes, Master Diluc—Dawn Winery's boost will spread his tale."
In Mondstadt's wilds, Eula roamed, ice-blue hair glinting under the sun.
The Spindrift Knight, captain of the guerrilla squad, thrived in the untamed lands.
Her curves and snow-white legs turned heads, a beauty cold as her blade.
She'd crushed Abyss Order outposts, a warrior rivaling Jean in might.
Now, atop a quiet peak, she cradled Detective Windhaven, lips twitching upward.
Ye Ruo's words drew rare softness from her usually icy demeanor.
"Hmph, you trading steel for ink? Unpredictable as ever," she muttered.
"The duo sharing a wind treasure—imagine us as one, fighting side by side…"
Her voice faltered, cheeks flushing as the thought spiraled into intimacy.
She shook her head, mortified, "What am I saying? This is ridiculous!"
"Blame Ye Ruo—I'll mark this grudge in my ledger!" she hissed.
"Then there's that idol book—me, a tsundere star? Another grudge!" she fumed.
The wind carried her flustered rant, a secret lost to the hills.
Ye Ruo, meanwhile, tracked his quarry through Mondstadt's lively streets.
Noelle trailed him, oblivious to the green-clad bard ahead strumming a tune.
Wendy's voice wove tales, youthful and free, masking a divine truth.
Ye Ruo, a traveler reborn, knew this was Barbatos, Mondstadt's wind god.
Outsiders saw a absent deity, leaving his city to fend for itself.
Yet he surfaced in crises, a quiet savior easing Mondstadt's burdens.
Sleep stole him sometimes, missing tragedies like Rustan's fall, a guilt he bore.
Awake, he roamed unpredictably—Dihua Marsh's flutes wouldn't shock Ye Ruo.
Today, Wendy finished his song, only to face a drunkard's slurred challenge.
"You're the best bard, huh? Tell me about the Wind Mystery Treasure!"
Wendy blinked, caught off guard, "Wind Mystery Treasure? Never heard of it."
Ye Ruo stifled a laugh—his novel's fiction had stumped the god himself.
Barbatos scratched his head, the irony lost on the swaying questioner.
Noelle tilted her head, "Senior, what's so funny about that bard?"
"Just a hunch—this one's more than he seems," Ye Ruo replied, eyes gleaming.
His third book simmered in his mind, old Mondstadt's winds whispering loud.
The Lonely King and Barbatos would dance again, a tale to stir the city.
The system's hum grew, fame from Windhaven feeding his unseen vault.
He'd chased freedom once, fleeing Fatui clutches—now, it chased him.
Wendy's lute faded as Ye Ruo closed in, the wind god's shadow in reach.
Mondstadt pulsed around him, a canvas for his quill's next stroke.
***
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