Ganyu's resolve stood firm as stone, and Xander ceased his gentle prodding.
Her boss plotted retirement, yet here she toiled, a voluntary sentinel of ceaseless duty.
In his old world, such devotion might've moved a streetlamp to tears.
"Fine, I'll drop it," Xander conceded, leaning back against the pier's salt-crusted railing.
"If it suits you, share your woes—maybe I've got a spark of wisdom to offer," he suggested.
He cast himself as a confidant, eager to ease the burdens of this qilin-hearted maiden.
Ganyu fidgeted, her fingers grazing her horned head in a shy, awkward dance.
"It's not much, really—just a nagging fear of that second creation broadcast," she admitted.
Her voice trembled, a soft ripple of dread breaking her usual calm.
She didn't need a spoof; her childhood alone held mortification enough.
A single reel of her youthful blunders could unravel her entirely.
Imagine it—Ganyu, plump and stumbling, aired for all Teyvat to gawk at.
The screen might flash her tumbling down a hill, grass-stained and bleating.
Or worse, napping through a contract signing, drool pooling on sacred parchment.
Her tenure as Liyue's Seven Stars secretary would crumble to dust.
She'd flee to Jueyun Karst, a hermit hiding from the world's mocking eyes.
No one would find her amid the adepti's misty peaks—shame would be her shroud.
"I thought it was some grand trouble, but it's just that?" Xander said, a grin tugging his lips.
Ganyu's lilac eyes widened, surprise flickering across her delicate features.
"Aren't you afraid of being picked by the broadcast, Xander?" she asked, brow furrowing.
Her fear gnawed deep; how could he brush it off so lightly?
"In my world, we had something like this—second creations, parodies, all in jest," he explained.
"People laughed, shared, then moved on—it's harmless fun," he continued.
"Here, it's the same—no real harm, just a twist on your image for a chuckle," he assured.
"It's not worth fretting over; the buzz fades, and memories blur," he concluded.
His words aimed to soothe, a balm for her spiraling unease.
Inwardly, though, he smirked—Ganyu as a spoof target was too rich to pass up.
He'd apologize in silence, vowing to make it up to her later.
Perhaps a grand gesture—or, daringly, something more personal.
"Is that so?" Ganyu murmured, her voice a hesitant whisper.
Xander's reasoning muddled her thoughts, softening the broadcast's menace.
Maybe it wasn't a calamity—just a playful distortion of truth.
A fictional tale, like a bard's exaggerated yarn spun over wine.
Yet the knot in her chest refused to unravel completely.
She pictured herself onscreen—still a nightmare she couldn't embrace.
"No, I can't—I'd rather not," she sighed, defeat shading her tone.
Xander caught the droop in her shoulders, guilt prickling his conscience.
"Well, seems you need to toughen that qilin spirit a bit," he teased gently.
His resolve held firm—Ganyu's second creation was a must.
It'd be a gift, he reasoned, a trial to forge her resilience.
A few spoofs might steel her against those childhood ghosts.
She'd emerge stronger, unshaken by past follies or public jests.
A stout heart would serve her well, easing her endless toil.
Poor Ganyu remained oblivious, blind to the schemer at her side.
He'd orchestrate her spotlight, a maestro of mirth and mischief.
She'd shine among Teyvat's all-stars, a reluctant icon of absurdity.
"Oh, by the way—had supper yet? Join me?" Xander asked, stomach rumbling.
Nightly snacks were his ritual; an empty belly soured his mood.
"No need—I don't usually eat this late," Ganyu replied, voice faint.
Her eyes betrayed a flicker of longing, quickly smothered by discipline.
She grazed on greens by day—nightly feasts clashed with her creed.
Indulgence might dull her edge, a lapse she couldn't afford.
"Nonsense—grass all day? I'm treating, and you're coming," Xander insisted.
His tone brooked no refusal, a playful command cutting through her hesitation.
Ganyu faltered, her resolve wavering under his firm gaze.
"Alright, just a little—something light," she relented, steps tentative.
Vegetarian fare wouldn't tip her scales; she'd stay within bounds.
Besides, Xander's presence stirred something new, a warmth unfamiliar yet kind.
The pier stretched behind them, its lovers lost in their own worlds.
Liyue's lanterns glimmered, a constellation mirrored on the harbor's dark waves.
They wandered toward a stall, the scent of grilled vegetables wafting near.
Xander grinned—Ganyu's spoof loomed, a jest he'd craft with care.
The Shadowfang Blade thrummed, a silent partner in his brewing plans.
Night cloaked them, the sea's whisper a backdrop to their quiet bond.
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