Original God Zhongli BG Xiao Qinglong traveled through time

The morning light before the Lantern Festival, like amber soaked in mountain spring water, gently and slowly drifted across the cascading green tiles and eaves of the Wangshu Inn. The sweet aroma of almond tofu lingered in the air, blending with the warm fragrance of freshly baked festival cakes in the kitchen downstairs, creating a comforting, rich atmosphere. In the distance, towards Liyue Harbor, sporadic test fireworks were already launching into the sky. Their muffled thuds pierced the clouds, like a distant, persistent heartbeat, knocking on the windows of every person who hadn't returned.

The elegant window-side seating on the inn's top floor was most generously favored by the morning light. Atop a brocade cushion, a silver-gray figure, with an almost tragic air, absorbed all the light and warmth. It was a ragdoll cat, its fur lush as brocade clouds falling from the heavens. It should have been a creature of supreme elegance, but now it lay lifeless, its whole being radiating a resolute refusal to interact with the outside world—like a piece of "cat-shaped butter" freshly pulled from an ice cellar, refusing to share the warmth.

This is Xizhi. Or, in other words, a stubborn cat-cake who was determined to exile the name "Lin Huan" and the Hai Lantern Festival together.

Light footsteps echoed down the wooden staircase, as steady as the pulse of the earth's depths. It was Zhongli. He hadn't worn the formal robes of a guest official from the Hall of Rebirth today, but a dark gown embroidered with flowing cloud patterns. His wide sleeves swayed with his steps, revealing a faint golden gleam of rock patterns, like lava surging within the earth's veins. In his hand, he held a plain celadon cup, its tea warm and mellow, emitting the crisp scent of bamboo.

He stopped three steps away from the pile of cat biscuits, and when he looked down, a tiny ripple appeared in his gilded pupils, like the calm surface of an ancient well being brushed by a gust of wind that was unwilling to disturb it.

"The dawn is fading, perfect for tea tasting." He spoke, his voice rich and gentle, like fine wine flowing through a jade cup. He was speaking to the cat, but also to the morning light. "In Liyue Harbor, I imagine the streets are already filled with colorful lights. The Hall Master was very excited yesterday, saying that this year's fireworks display is even more spectacular than in previous years."

The cat on the cushion seemed to be in a trance, even the most sensitive hair on the tips of its ears did not tremble at all, as if it had completed the ultimate fusion of life form with the fabric beneath it, turning into a silent sculpture called "Eternal Rejection".

Zhongli leaned forward slightly, placing the teacup gently on the windowsill, maintaining a distance from Maobing that expressed both concern and respect. He didn't attempt to touch, only saying softly, "Just go and see how the fireworks illuminate the buildings and listen to the children's laughter. If you find it too noisy, just turn around and head home."

All he received in response was a stubborn, silver-gray silence, rendered almost transparent by the sunlight. The halo of light outlined the cat's soft features, but it couldn't penetrate the depths of its seemingly self-enclosed soul. Zhongli exhaled softly, a breath woven with the understanding honed over millennia and a deep, complex hope: "I know you're deeply hurt, but I still hope you'll see the lights tonight."

Almost instantly, another aura quietly dissipated, like moonlight pouring down. Xiao emerged from the shadows of the pillars, as if he were part of the light and shadows. His green, fanged Nuo mask obscured all expression, leaving only those eyes, piercing through the holes, like those quenched by cold stars, fixed firmly on the cat pancake. He held a plate of crystal-white almond tofu in his hands, gently placing it beside the teacup.

He remained silent, just staring. After a moment, he suddenly raised his hand—the fingers covered in dark green armor that had torn apart countless abyssal monsters now contained all their hostility. With just the tip of a finger, with almost clumsy caution, he very slowly and gently combed through the particularly fluffy and soft fur on the back of Cat Biscuit's neck.

This is a Yaksha-like greeting, not good at words but with a weight of weight.

Catcake's silhouette seemed... subtly frozen for a moment? Perhaps it was just an illusion, a play of light and shadow. She still didn't look up, didn't move, but the invisible wall of "absolute resistance" around her seemed to have been cracked, as if by this clumsy tenderness, a hairline crack had been opened.

"Young Master-Master, don't you like noise?" A cold sound like ice cleavage echoed. Shen He had crouched before the cushions without anyone noticing, her icy blue eyes fixed on Mao Bing, pure curiosity and inquiry in them. "The crowds, the bright lights, the loud noises… are these what bother you?" She tilted her head slightly, as if analyzing a complex talisman. "I can find Miss Ningguang and set up a barrier in a secluded area of ​​Yujing Terrace. Just the two of us, we can observe the stars and escape the clamor of the world."

Her proposal was blunt and naive, yet it seemed especially sincere because of its pure goodwill.

"Heh..." A lazy voice, tinged with sarcasm, drifted from the railing. "What a magnificent scene, 'All the wise men have gathered to persuade the cat to come out of the mountains.'" Yu leaned against the vermilion railing, the morning breeze ruffling the hem of his fiery red robe. His fingertips nonchalantly toyed with a shiny, warm chess piece. His gaze swept across the crowd, finally settling on the pile of cat biscuits. "I wonder if this 'little prime minister in the mountains' intends to stay here on the top floor of the inn, imitating the husband-waiting... heh, the harbor-watching stone, until the festive season is over?"

His tone was sharp, but deep in his eyes was an elusive, dark sympathy. He knew too well the loneliness that isolates oneself from worldly pleasures.

Zhongli's expression remained unchanged by Yu Qing's words. He simply said calmly, "Everything has its own nature. Just let nature take its course."

Yu Qing sneered and walked forward, his eyes passing over Mao Bing and looking at Zhongli and Xiao: "A forced melon is not sweet, even a three-year-old child understands this truth. But, watching someone waste a potentially beautiful view in vain because of some old grudges... is also quite boring." His words were circuitous, and it was unclear whether he was talking about the cat, mocking himself, or referring to something else.

A strange silence descended upon the top floor of the Wangshu Inn. Warm sunlight streamed down, the aroma of tea wafted through the air, and the sweet treats tantalized the senses. A cat-shaped cake, determined to play dead to the end, a helpless deity, a silent yaksha, a forthright female immortal, and a sharp-tongued eccentric. Several distinct auras converged and collided here, yet a delicate balance was achieved.

Finally, what broke the deadlock was a golden ginkgo leaf that fell from nowhere. It swayed gracefully and landed squarely on the tip of Maobing's moist, pink nose.

"Ah sneeze——!"

A very subtle sneeze with a baby sound, but enough to instantly dissolve all "petrified" states, burst out from Maobing.

Cat cake, failed at the last moment.

The perfectly flat form collapsed in an instant. The cat, startled by her own noise, jerked her head up, her eyes, as azure as the vast ocean and clear sky, filled with the bewilderment and faint anger of having her meditation interrupted. She shook her head vigorously, trying to shake off the offending leaf. Her long, fluffy tail suddenly exploded in fright, causing her entire body to swell up, like a disturbed dandelion that had scattered.

All eyes were instantly focused on the cat that had finally "come back to life".

The corners of Zhongli's lips curved up into an imperceptible arc, yet warm as spring water.

Xiao silently retracted his fingers, and the gaze under the Nuo mask seemed to soften a little.

Shen He maintained his squatting position, his eyes flashing with the empirical light of "there really is a stimulation threshold".

Yu Qing sneered with an ambiguous meaning, but the sarcasm in his eyes faded a little.

Xizhimao shook off the leaves and looked around, meeting several gazes with varying emotions. It was as if she had just realized that the "heroic" posture she had maintained all morning had collapsed. She was stunned for a moment, then, with a hint of anger and self-destruction, she rested her chin back on her paws. However, this time, her chin was no longer completely "pancake-shaped", but a soft ball with a hint of anger.

The silent declaration seemed to be a stubborn appeal: "Forget it! You guys are better than me! But my heart remains the same... I don't want to move!"

However, the slightly trembling ear tips, revealing that the heart was far from calm, showed that a certain solid ice had quietly cracked the first line.

The sunlight outside the window grew increasingly warm and transparent. In the distance, the crisp sound of another test firework reached the sky, as if answering the questions of some silent reconciliation.