Liam’s Pavilion Feast

Tartaglia's knack for action shone through as he tackled Dig to Ascend, his combat-honed reflexes mastering the controls faster than Keqing had, his hands dancing over the mouse with a warrior's grace.

He adapted to the game's rhythm swiftly, outpacing the Yuheng's early stumbles, his talent for precision translating from battlefield to screen with enviable ease.

When it came to setbacks, his spirit thrived—each tumble back to the happy hometown only stoked his fire, his resolve hardening like steel under the hammer of repeated falls.

Every reset fueled his hunger to conquer, his eyes glinting with a defiance that refused to bow, a stark contrast to the frustration that had undone others before him.

Yet even his iron will had limits, his brash style—swinging the hammer in wild, soaring arcs rather than measured steps—sending him crashing back to the start with maddening frequency.

Over hours, that relentless pace bred a creeping restlessness, the sting of falling from greater heights gnawing at his patience, his composure fraying at the edges.

"Gaia!" he roared, his voice a hot-blooded echo of some fiery hero, the outburst tearing through the cafe as his latest plunge to the hometown snapped his thinning restraint.

Tartaglia slumped, his chest heaving, the weight of countless failures piling up—years had passed since he'd last tasted defeat this relentless, this personal.

What started as a quirky challenge had morphed into a tormentor, Dig to Ascend revealing its true face: a game engineered to disgust, to punish every slip with a soul-crushing reset.

Its map was a sadist's dream, teetering platforms and slick edges designed to topple the careless, each misstep a one-way ticket back to the bald man's grinning origin.

"Boss Liam, can anyone actually beat these games?" Tartaglia called out, his voice thick with doubt, his pride bruised as he sought answers from the man behind the counter.

The crowd leaned in, their own curiosity mirrored in his plea, all eager for Liam's verdict on whether these digital demons could truly be vanquished.

Liam met their gazes with a smug tilt, his tone dripping with mock pity, "Don't blame the path if your feet falter—these are old classics from my world; of course they're beatable."

He leaned forward, his words a sermon, "You lot need patience—swing the hammer with skill, not haste, and scour the corridors for clues; master the tricks, and victory's yours soon enough."

His chiding hit home, the players shifting sheepishly—two days in, they'd rushed these fresh games, their eagerness outstripping the time needed to crack their secrets.

The day sped by, and with his banquet at Qunyu Pavilion looming, Liam locked the cafe doors at eight, the early close a ripple from yesterday's buzz and today's fervor.

The emotional harvest swelled past 7,000 points, a rich yield from Tartaglia's grit and the crowd's gasps, tempting Liam to mull upgrades once he returned from Ningguang's table.

He rode the elevator from Yujing Terrace, ascending hundreds of meters to Qunyu Pavilion, a sprawling空中 palace dwarfing its game counterpart, a marvel of Liyue's ingenuity.

This airborne fortress gleamed under the stars, a strategic bastion ready to shield Liyue from any foe, its grandeur a testament to the Tianquan's vision and might.

"Boss Liam, welcome—thank you for gracing Qunyu Pavilion with your presence," Ningguang greeted, her voice warm and poised as she met him at the platform's edge.

"Miss Ningguang, you're the busy one—it's me who's honored to dine here tonight, not the other way around," Liam replied, matching her courtesy as he followed her into the pavilion's opulent halls.

He couldn't help but admire her—a girl risen from humble peddler to Liyue's Tianquan star, her brilliance a once-in-a-century spark that turned Mora into power and power into legacy.

Merchants whispered her name in awe, craving her secrets to wealth, while her elegance—rich, commanding, regal—stirred a flicker of weakness in Liam's otherwise steady heart.

Tonight's banquet was intimate, just the two of them, Ningguang embodying the Seven Stars' goodwill toward Zhongli's guest, her charm a velvet glove over Liyue's iron fist.

Liam guessed Zhongli's dream-message had paved this path—without it, she'd have probed him ruthlessly, perhaps bartering favors to safeguard her beloved city.

Instead, their talk danced around lighter fare, her curiosity tilting toward his world, "Your business ways intrigue me, Liam—what's your trade like out there?"

"I'm no expert," he demurred, sipping his tea, "I dabble, but Teyvat's small scope—hemmed by monsters, cramped for humans—needs land freed before commerce can truly bloom."

She nodded, her gaze thoughtful, "True, Liyue Port grows yearly, but it's still a tight fit—space is our bottleneck, even with all our gains."

Their meal stretched past ten, the hours melting in a flow of food and words, and as the night deepened, Liam rose, "It's late—I should head back; thank you for this."

Ningguang escorted him to the elevator, watching his silhouette fade into the dark, a quiet resolve forming—she'd seek more of this otherworldly man, Zhongli's chosen guest.

At nearly thirty, like Beidou, she'd poured her life into Liyue's rise, her heart sidelined by ambition, leaving suitors—plenty but unworthy—in her wake.

Now, Liam's presence sparked a rare question: could this traveler, this enigma from beyond, be the match her discerning soul had yet to find?

Liam descended, the pavilion's glow receding, his mind buzzing with the day's haul—7,000 points, Tartaglia's tenacity, and Ningguang's poised allure all swirling together.

The cafe's chaos had built this bridge to Liyue's elite, and as he stepped back onto solid ground, he felt Teyvat's vastness bend just a little closer to his grasp.

***

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