"Lady Ningguang, the intel and documents you requested are all collected—right here."
A voluptuous woman with a slanted purple fringe sauntered into the Jade Chamber. Leather outfit in a single sleek piece, all mature allure. She perched on the table's edge and set down the files.
Makeup immaculate, eyes languid—Yelan, Ningguang's special intelligence operative, a name that didn't exist on the Ministry of Civil Affairs' rolls… and the face behind Yanshang Teahouse.
Ningguang set down her teacup and gestured lightly.
"Miss Yelan, I dined at Xinyue Kiosk today. The managers sent over some fine teas—take them back with you."
"Have you forgotten, my lady? As the one running Yanshang Teahouse, I'm never short on tea. You should keep those yourself."
Yelan tucked a lock behind her ear, smiling.
"Plenty of interesting things have happened lately. Care to hear?"
"Go on—if it's interesting enough."
As Tianquan, what pleased Ningguang most was earning mora—and the moment she earned it. Little else caught her eye.
With mora, worries vanished. These days, it was hard to stir her curiosity. Since Yelan brought it up, Ningguang inclined to listen.
Yelan toyed with her fingers, voice meaningful.
"Remember that small but notorious Liyue gang from years back?"
Ningguang nodded, tone even.
"The Old Nine Gates. Nine men. Eight jailed; the last went to ground."
"As of yesterday, they're back. I checked the ledgers for the Heaven-Grade and the other prisons—all eight were bailed. By one person."
The cigarette holder tapped. Ningguang relit it, lips parting to puff pale rings; at last, a ripple in her voice.
"How much mora… to bail all eight?"
"By the math—half a Jade Chamber."
She didn't quibble about using her sky-palace as a unit of measure. Ningguang's lips curved.
"Interesting. If there's a Ninth, he'd be the payer. What's his name?"
"Ji Ming. On the streets they call him the Flippant Knave. Ten years in the jianghu. After the Nine were smashed, he went to ground—living off… unseemly work."
Meaning: with Ji Ming alone, there's no way he amassed half a Jade Chamber. Something else was at play.
Ningguang set aside the holder, rose to the open platform, and looked down over Liyue's sprawl. She spoke without turning.
"Miss Yelan—three days. I want everything on this man."
"Understood. Wait for my word."
…
Back in Liyue Harbor, fresh from Jueyun Karst, Ji Ming was weaving through streets like the street punk he looked. The housewarming setup had him too busy to take side jobs.
Per Cloud Retainer's instructions, he was carrying a letter to Senior Ganyu—contents unknown. Likely a polite "please supervise your junior's cultivation."
Before he left, Shenhe had slipped a red cord into his hand, telling him not to lose it—a treasure, no doubt. He tied it at his wrist; sometimes it glowed faintly warm.
"Mr. Ji Ming—seems you're free today. Care to come up?"
Ji Ming looked up. Tartaglia—mask swapped—lounged against the skybridge rail beside Northland Bank, waving.
"If you haven't eaten, let me treat you."
There's no free lunch under the heavens—
…Except at Northland Bank.
Ji Ming changed course at once, took the stairs by Mingxing Jewelry, clasped Tartaglia's hand, and grinned.
"What a coincidence, Mr. Tartaglia. I am a little hungry."
Childe looked mildly surprised, then smiled.
"A few days ago you were all barbs and caution. In high spirits today?"
"Not at all. We're partners—no point scowling every day. Bad manners."
Partners? More like coin geyser.
Childe could only chuckle. Battle maniac he might be, but Ji Ming's intentions were written in bold.
"Mr. Ji Ming, I'll introduce a colleague later. Her temper… isn't the best. Please be patient."
"No problem. I'll eat. You two can talk."
Anyone Childe called a "colleague" would be an Executive. Not Ji Ming's concern—unless they turned into his mobile wallet.
The Fatui guards at the door shot him the nostril stare. Ji Ming noted the name on a chest badge, face blank, and followed Childe to a private lounge.
Vlad, huh. Noted.
The brass doors swung open—
A table heaped with Snezhnayan fare, just a token of Liyue dishes. A bottle of Snezhnaya vodka caught the eye.
By the window sat a woman in a dangerously minimal gown; a cold crown, smoked red shadow, allure weaponized. Flesh-toned waves of hair and the headpiece covered half her face.
Hearing the door, the woman glanced over, nodded once at Childe, flicked a disinterested look at Ji Ming—and looked away.
"You're late, Tartaglia."
"Apologies. Ran into a partner—brought him along. You don't mind, milady?"
"Milady"—a codename.
Childe leaned in, sotto voce.
"Her true name is Rosalyne-Kruzchka Lohefalter. Codename La Signora. Best not to use her real name. She dislikes rudeness."
"You're just… telling me that?" Ji Ming blinked, then deadpanned: "Then tell me your real name."
"Er… let's eat."
Whatever the Fatui wanted from him, Ji Ming wanted a good meal first. The rest could wait.
Seeing the whispering, Rosalyne's brows knit.
"Who you drag in is your business. Whispering in front of the Lady is rude."
Childe scratched his head and motioned Ji Ming to sit.
"My apologies. This is our partner, Mr. Ji Ming."
Ji Ming dipped his head to Rosalyne and immediately studied the dishes; his gaze hadn't lingered on her for even three seconds.
She felt slighted and sneered.
"A partner of the Fatui? Tartaglia, your eye for people is lacking. A man who only cares about food—worthy of partnership?"
"Milady, I think you should apologize," Childe said mildly. "Mr. Ji Ming is our highest-tier collaborator at present, authorized to know our real names. Her Majesty is aware."
At the Tsaritsa's name, Rosalyne fell silent—though inwardly amused. Her Majesty likely cared nothing for a man whose only focus was… eating.
If the Gnosis could be taken, a partner could be anyone.
Insulted, Ji Ming showed no anger. He'd heard enough mockery these years to weigh it by the stone. This didn't even register.
He didn't trade barbs either. There'd be a time to pay things back. For now, he was their partner—no need to tear the tablecloth.
"Miss Rosalyne, no matter your opinion of me, as a Fatui partner I have just one line: if you require help, I won't refuse."
…Provided the Fatui still called him partner. Otherwise, the promise expired.
Rosalyne gazed at the view.
"Save your big words. Say them again after you show value."
The gunpowder in her tone had eased. Ji Ming took the win, dropped his eyes, and tucked in.
As for the vodka—he wasn't touching it. If eight jars of ordinary spirits wrecked him, this stuff would floor him in three sips.
With the air smoothed, Childe tried to reset the mood.
"Milady, Her Majesty is sending you to Mondstadt. You know what to do."
"Of course. I shall take revenge on Barbatos."
Childe sighed.
"Focus on the Anemo Gnosis. Revenge is… personal."
"And you still haven't sniffed out the Geo Archon, have you? When will you get the Geo Gnosis back?"
She glanced at Ji Ming, hoping for a flicker of anger. She miscalculated.
He kept eating.
Keep eating, you rotten man.
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