Wangshu Inn stood as a towering sentinel over Dihua Marsh, its presence far grander than any game could capture.
The structure loomed larger in reality, its Liyue-style architecture a blend of elegance and utility.
Below the main building, the inn boasted more than just an outdoor seating area for weary travelers.
An indoor dining hall sprawled with polished wooden tables, their surfaces gleaming under lantern light.
A bustling kitchen adjoined it, the clatter of pots and the sizzle of oil a constant symphony.
Above, multiple floors offered rooms for guests, accessible via a creaking Liyue-style elevator.
The elevator's wooden panels were carved with intricate patterns of clouds and cranes.
Its mechanism groaned softly as it ferried visitors to the upper levels of the inn.
With such a vast operation, the inn employed a small army of chefs to feed its guests.
A single cook couldn't sustain the demand, no matter their skill or stamina.
Much like Wanmin Hall in Liyue Harbor, where Master Mao and Xiangling toiled, one chef wasn't enough.
Even if they worked tirelessly, exhaustion would claim them before the day's orders were filled.
At Wangshu Inn, Chef Yan Xiao held the prestigious role of head chef.
He typically reserved his talents for distinguished guests or complex dishes beyond the staff's expertise.
His presence in the kitchen was a rare treat, his culinary mastery a legend in Dihua Marsh.
The inn's strategic location at the heart of Liyue made it a hub for merchants and travelers.
Wangshu Inn thrived not just for its prime spot along the trade routes.
It served a dual purpose, one hidden beneath its welcoming facade.
From the proprietress to the lowliest handyman, every worker was part of a greater network.
The inn doubled as an intelligence station, a covert outpost for Liyue's watchful eyes.
Gathering information was its true mission; the inn's profits were merely a bonus.
Xander arrived at dusk, the inn's lanterns casting a warm glow against the twilight.
He decided to spend the night, seeking the comfort of a proper bed after his journey.
He requested an upper room, one with a view of the marsh's shimmering waters.
The room was modest but cozy, with a low table, a cushioned mat, and a window facing the stars.
After settling in, he requested a meal prepared by Yan Xiao himself.
He mentioned his acquaintance with Ningguang, a name that carried weight in Liyue.
The proprietress, Verr Goldet, raised an eyebrow but relayed the order without question.
Yan Xiao, flattered by the request, emerged from the kitchen to personally craft the meal.
He prepared a spread of signature dishes—grilled tiger fish, jade parcels, and crystal shrimp.
Xander, however, ordered two servings of almond tofu, a dish he knew held special significance.
One portion was for himself, a sweet treat to cap off the savory meal.
The other was a lure, a quiet offering for the inn's most elusive resident.
Yan Xiao's culinary skills were impeccable, as expected of Wangshu Inn's head chef.
The grilled fish flaked perfectly, its smoky flavor balanced by a tangy glaze.
The jade parcels burst with the richness of ham and lotus, a harmony of textures.
The crystal shrimp glistened, their delicate sweetness a testament to Yan Xiao's precision.
The almond tofu was a masterpiece, its silky texture melting on Xander's tongue.
Its subtle sweetness carried a hint of nostalgia, a taste of dreams long forgotten.
After dinner, Xander took the second serving of almond tofu and ascended to the roof.
The Liyue-style elevator creaked as it carried him to the inn's highest point.
The rooftop was a wide, open space, framed by a simple wooden guardrail.
A gentle breeze rustled through, carrying the marsh's earthy scent and the distant croak of frogs.
Xander placed the almond tofu on a small table near the door, a silent invitation.
Verr Goldet, watching from below, tilted her head in curiosity.
"He ordered two servings of almond tofu and brought one to the roof?" she murmured.
Her mind, sharpened by years of intelligence work, raced to connect the dots.
She recalled the Yaksha who often lingered here, a solitary figure with a fondness for the dish.
Mandrill, the Vigilant Yaksha, was a frequent visitor to Wangshu Inn's rooftop.
He favored almond tofu, its sweetness a rare solace for his burdened soul.
Verr Goldet's eyes narrowed—did this traveler know the Yaksha personally?
The two seemed an unlikely pair, but her instincts told her there was a connection.
On the roof, a short figure stood by the guardrail, gazing at the starlit marsh.
Dark green hair framed his face, a stark contrast to his white vest.
Green tattoos snaked along his arms, glowing faintly in the moonlight.
It was Mandrill, the Great Sage of Exorcism, favored by the Geo Archon himself.
Known to some as "Meow Meow" for his feline grace, he was a legend in Liyue.
He cherished this rooftop, a sanctuary where he could escape the world's clamor.
But tonight, the sound of footsteps disrupted his solitude, and he frowned.
The inn was always crowded, its guests a constant intrusion on his peace.
Mandrill turned to leave, his patience for company long since worn thin.
A faint scent stopped him, his nose twitching as a familiar aroma wafted near.
It was the unmistakable fragrance of almond tofu, crafted by Yan Xiao's skilled hands.
He turned, his golden eyes narrowing as he spotted the plate on the table.
"Who's there?" he called, his voice sharp with suspicion.
In a flash, he darted to the door, peering down the stairs for the intruder.
But Xander had already slipped away, his footsteps fading into the night.
Mandrill's gaze fell on the almond tofu, confusion etching his stoic features.
Was this a mere coincidence, a leftover from some guest's meal?
Or had it been left for him, a deliberate gift from an unseen hand?
He considered asking Verr Goldet, certain she'd know the dish's owner.
But after a moment's thought, he decided against it, preferring his solitude.
He inspected the tofu carefully, ensuring no strange ingredients tainted its purity.
Satisfied, he sat by the guardrail, the plate balanced on his lap.
He took a bite, the sweetness blooming on his tongue like a forgotten dream.
The taste eased the ache of his karmic burden, a fleeting reprieve from his torment.
Xander, now in his room, hadn't lingered to meet the Yaksha.
He knew there was little to say, their paths too divergent for casual conversation.
A piece of almond tofu wasn't enough to bridge the gap between strangers.
Mandrill was the last surviving Yaksha, a guardian weighed down by centuries of karma.
His existence was a crucible of pain, each day a battle against his inner demons.
Living was a torment far greater than death, a burden he bore for duty's sake.
Bound by his contract with Morax, he protected Liyue with unwavering resolve.
His loyalty and endurance were a testament to a strength few could fathom.
Xander admired him, a warrior whose perseverance shamed lesser souls.
He felt a pang of sympathy for the Yaksha's endless suffering.
Mandrill deserved moments of joy, a chance to smile amidst his eternal struggle.
A second creation video could offer that, a lighthearted spoof to lift his spirits.
For now, easing Mandrill's mental burden was the least Xander could do.
He couldn't yet dispel the Yaksha's karma, a problem too vast for his current means.
But in time, with the right lottery draws, he might find a solution.
Xander dreamed of happy endings, a world where pain could be undone.
If he ever gained the power to resurrect, he'd rewrite Teyvat's tragedies.
The blades of fate that had cut so many lives short would be cast aside.
Such a future was distant, a hope for another day's dawn.
For now, the night stretched before him, dinner done and the inn quiet.
He decided to launch the second creation broadcast, a new tale to weave.
Tartaglia, the "Barren Dragon," had been eager for the spotlight in past battles.
His flamboyant leaps and boasts made him a perfect candidate for the next video.
Since he craved the camera, Xander would grant his wish in full.
The Shadowfang Blade hummed at his side, eager for the mischief to come.
Wangshu Inn slumbered below, unaware of the stories about to unfold.
***
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