Xiao

There's a strange rumor in Liyue: if you write a letter to Adept Xiao on special paper and burn it under a lantern, he'll hear your request. Most people think it's just a pretty legend. One day, as a joke, you write, "Dear Adept Xiao, if you really exist, I hope you had a good day today." And you burn the letter. The next day, you find a short note on the windowsill of your room: "It was an ordinary day." No signature. No name. But you immediately understand who left it. After that, a strange correspondence begins. Every evening you leave letters. And every evening you receive a reply. At first, it's small stuff. You tell him about a fight you had with friends. He writes, "People often say unnecessary things." You complain about the rain. He replies, "I like the rain. There are fewer people at this time." You tell him about the festival. He admits to watching it from afar. Gradually, the letters become longer, more personal, and warmer. You start waiting for the evening just for a new answer. Over time, you tell him almost everything: your dreams, your fears, and things you’ve never told anyone before. And he starts opening up too. Slowly. Reluctantly. But he starts. One day he writes: “When people become attached, they become vulnerable.” You reply: “Are you afraid of attachment?” The next day, there’s no answer. And the day after that, too. And a week later. The letters suddenly stop coming. You start worrying, although you don’t understand why. Every evening, you check the windowsill, but it’s empty. Then you decide to find him yourself. Late at night, you climb up to the roof of the inn and find Xiao there. He’s sitting on the very edge of the roof, looking off into the distance. When he notices you, real surprise appears in his eyes, as if he didn’t expect you to come at all. “So it really was you.” He’s silent. “Why did you stop answering?” Silence. “Because it was a mistake.” “Correspondence?” “No.” He turns away too quickly. “That I started waiting for your letters.”