Genshin Impact: Watch me turn the tables and kill my servants at the start!

Fanes found that his life in Fontaine had unknowingly developed a strange rhythm.

After finishing his routine paperwork with the Fools and a few transfer orders that needed his signature in the morning, he would walk for about fifteen minutes along the sycamore-lined street in Fontaine, turn two corners, and then stop in front of the side gate of the Mo Mang Palace.

The guards already recognized him, and when they saw him approaching, they didn't even bother to announce his arrival, simply stepping aside to make way for him. Fanes walked down the corridor to the door of Funina's office, knocked twice, and waited for a "Come in" or "Wait a moment" from inside before pushing the door open and going in.

Sometimes, when there was no response after he knocked, he would push the door open and peek inside. Once, he saw Funina standing by the window changing her coat. When she heard the door open, she turned around abruptly, clutching half of the sleeve that she hadn't had time to put on. Then, she threw the coat towards the door with great speed and precision.

Fañes dodged the pillow—or perhaps a coat, a folder, a half-cold cup of tea, or a soft leather slipper pulled out from somewhere—before it hit her. She then leaned against the doorframe and waited for the remaining sleeve to be put on before going back inside.

"Could you please knock and wait until I say 'come in' before opening the door?"

As she adjusted the lace at her collar, Funina said, "If I hadn't known it was you, I would have already drafted a diplomatic note."

Fanes sat down in the chair opposite her, righted the teacup that had been tossed over and lay on the floor by the door, and placed it back on the table. "I knocked. You didn't answer. So I came in myself. If it's really inconvenient for you, you can lock the door."

Funina hung the coat back on the hanger. "I've locked the door. Will you go back?"

Fanes leaned back in his chair and thought for a moment: "No. I'll have someone send over a spare key."

Fulina didn't reply, but instead opened a drawer and started rummaging through the afternoon tea tea bags.

This back-and-forth gradually became a tacitly accepted routine for both parties. Fanes' arrival time was unpredictable; sometimes it was in the morning, sometimes in the afternoon.

Fu Ningna gradually went from being panicked to getting used to it. Occasionally, after hearing those two familiar knocks, she would respond from inside with "Wait for me for half a minute" or "There's no chestnut cake today."

One time, when Fanes pushed open the door, he found her asleep on the table, an old novel half-read in front of her, and a cold teacup. Fanes didn't wake her; he simply took the shawl draped over the back of the chair and covered her shoulders, then sat opposite her, picked up the old novel, flipped through a few pages, and waited for her to wake up naturally.

When Funina woke up, she saw someone sitting opposite her, flipping through her book. She was startled at first, then looked down at the shawl on her shoulders, and looked back at the person opposite her: "...How long have you been waiting?"

Fanes turned a page: "About an incense stick's time. How's the rest of the book going? I've only gotten to the third act."

Funina folded the shawl back up and put it back on the chair: "The third act is the best, don't watch it too fast."

Sometimes they would meet at a quiet teahouse or outdoor café in the city. Fanes would arrive a little early and sit on an outdoor seat, watching the passersby and the occasional pigeon that landed at his feet.

Fulina usually arrived a few minutes later than him, wearing a wide-brimmed hat that covered half her face, but she would take off the hat and put it on the chair next to her after she sat down.

Once, they were sitting on a street-facing terrace near the port, where sunlight filtered through the gaps in the awning, casting dappled patterns on the tabletop and chair backs.

Furina was cutting a piece of cream cake with a fork. Fanes leaned back in his chair, watching her focused expression, thinking to himself—how adorable, silly Furina is. But he didn't say it aloud; he simply picked up his glass, took a sip, and swallowed the thought beneath the rim of the cup.

They were photographed by passersby a few times. The first time was a blurry profile picture posted on a social media account with the caption, "Who is the Water God having afternoon tea with?" Someone replied, "The one next to him in the dark coat looks like a member of the Fatui."

The second photo was clearer, showing the outline of Fanes' profile and the edge of the badge pinned to his collar. The number of comments under that post was more than double that of the previous one, ranging from "Are the Fools going to cooperate with Fontaine?" to "Are they discussing some big project?"

The third time, someone captured a photo of Funina being amused by something—the fork was suspended in mid-air, her profile slightly tilted in the sunlight, her eyes crinkling, and the curve of her lips clearly visible. The discussion under that post completely veered off course, and the comment section below the title expanded several pages within hours. The page layout was almost unable to accommodate the ever-increasing number of comments, with many people asking, "What is their relationship?", "This doesn't look like an official meeting," and "Are Fontaine and Zhidong planning something big?"

When Fanes saw this content on his terminal, he simply scrolled down without liking or sharing it, and then put the panel back in his pocket.

One afternoon, Fanes and Frinina were having afternoon tea on their usual terrace near the Moman Palace. On the tray were two small cakes, a plate of macarons, and a pot of freshly brewed black tea, with a slice of lemon on the rim of the cup. Sunlight was filtering through the gaps in the awning, casting a row of circular spots of light on the edge of the macarons between them.

As Fanes was cutting the cake with a fork, he heard footsteps approaching and then receding behind him, followed by a boy's voice: "Godfather! You're here too!"

Fanes turned his head and saw Linni standing a few steps away, carrying a small box in his hand. The brim of his hat cast a light gray shadow in the sunlight. Not far behind him stood Linette, who was not carrying anything and stood quietly. Her gaze shifted back and forth between Fanes and Funina.

A smile played on Linni's lips as his gaze passed over Fanes and landed on Funina. His tone carried that characteristic youthful lilt, a blend of naturalness and mischief: "This must be my godmother, right?"

Furnessa's teaspoon tapped softly against the rim of her cup. She turned to look at the two children, then at Fanes, as if to confirm she hadn't misheard: "...Is this right?"

Lynette remained standing a short distance away, adding in a voice even quieter than Lynne's, "That's what they say at the House of Hearths."

Fanes put down his fork and leaned back in his chair: "What are you two doing here?"

Linni switched the small box in her hand to the other side: "I went to the port to pick up a batch of fabric samples for Clementine's mother. I saw my godfather drinking tea here, so I came over to say hello."

After he finished speaking, Linette nodded slightly as a confirmation of what he had said, then stood quietly in place, her gaze no longer moving toward Funina.

Funina, still holding the teaspoon, asked, "What do you call this in your House of Hearths?"

Fanes glanced at her: "This kind of nickname is probably just something they pass around internally for fun; they'll probably change it in a couple of days."

Linni stood beside the table and tilted her head slightly towards Funina: "However, no one calls their godfather that where we're from. If godmother feels that this title is inappropriate, we can choose not to use it."

Funina put down her teaspoon and picked up the cup of tea that had cooled down a bit: "...Don't call me that in public."

Linnie responded and walked away along the street towards the port, carrying his small suitcase. Linette followed a couple of steps behind him, not turning back, the brim of her hat gleaming slightly in the sunlight. The two walked along the sidewalk, turned at the next intersection, and disappeared into the shadows of the street corner.

That evening, while Clévy was washing dishes in the kitchen of the Fireplace House, she received a "message" from Linni after he returned—more like a verbal report than a full intelligence report—Linni gave a brief account of how they had bumped into Fanes and Furness having afternoon tea on the street.

After wiping the dishes and hanging them back on the shelf, Clementine turned and went to a half-open door at the end of the corridor. She knocked twice and pushed the door open. Arecino was sitting at the table flipping through an inventory record book. She glanced up and asked, "What's wrong?"

Clementine leaned against the doorframe: "Linnie and Lynette ran into Twelve and Funina having tea together on the street this afternoon. I heard that Linnie called out 'Godmother,' and Funina's teaspoon froze in mid-air for a long time, as if she was confirming that she hadn't misheard."

Arecino's gaze lifted from the pages of the inventory records, pausing for a moment under the light, as if to make sure Clementine hadn't missed any details. Then she turned a page of the record book: "The word 'godmother' at least indicates that they are currently at a stage where they can talk face-to-face. Compared to a situation where both sides are avoiding each other, this state at least leaves room for further discussion."

Clementine leaned against the doorframe, shifting her weight slightly. "Do you think they have that kind of relationship?"

Arecino closed the notebook and placed it on the table: "There isn't enough data yet to confirm what kind of relationship it is. But at least we can confirm that neither side has tried to deny it."

Clementine stood on the edge of the doorway for a moment, as if processing the sentence structure and wording of the conclusion—making sure she hadn't missed a single beat or added any extra footnotes. "So how long do you think this state can last?"

Arecino tucked the notebook into the filing cabinet on the corner of the table: "That's up to the two of them. All we need to know is that if it comes to communication between Fontaine and Winter in the future, their communication channels are faster than official ones."