Chapter Text
In hindsight, this was a terrible idea.
That was what went through Keqing’s head as her foot snagged on a branch, sending her tumbling down a hill, dead leaves and rocky dirt catching on her clothes as she rolled and rolled. The wind was knocked out of her as she landed in a wet ditch. A low-pitched sound droned from her status screen as her hit points drained from the fall damage, segueing to an irritating, continuous beep. Her health bar was a sliver of red.
Monsters in the area snarled at the ruckus. Twigs snapped in the distance as they roamed the woods, searching for the source of the noise. Keqing trained her ears—there were a pack of them, maybe around five or six.
Keqing grimaced, closing her status screen. Critical health in a high level area, with a plethora of dangerous mobs. Wonderful. In Teyvat Online, all loot on your person was lost as soon as you died. One tap from anything would kill her instantly, and then all her efforts from the past few hours would be for naught.
She pulled up her inventory, using her finger to scroll down the item grid to admire her well-earned prize from her foray: a bundle of Qingxin flowers covering every tile. In the grand scheme of things, Qingxin flowers were not particularly rare, but they were difficult to obtain, being located in high altitudes at the tops of mountains. Given the level range of mobs in such areas, only veteran players could safely navigate these spaces. Any loot found in risky territories like this was often sold at a premium. Especially Qingxin flowers. They were popular as a romantic gift, highly-sought after for their unique heart-shaped petals, or even as an ingredient for meals that offered strong restorative buffs.
Hence Xiangling’s complaining. Yesterday she had come to Keqing, bemoaning how impossible it would be to find any Qingxin at their level. As an aspiring chef, her ambitions and skills were easily transferable to Teyvat Online, with its diverse assortment of hashable meals. But alas, they were both new to the game, with only a week of playtime in. Naturally, neither of them had any coin to their name, so the marketboards were not a viable method of procurement for ingredients.
Keqing, of course, had taken that as a challenge. Any talents one had in real life could readily make up for deficiencies in skill points. As someone who dabbled in a bit of rock climbing here and there, scaling mountains was no problem for her. The hardest part was avoiding mobs, but with careful observation and planning of her routes, it was easy enough to sneak by.
And now here she was, in the middle of a godforsaken ditch at Wuwang Hill, the most notorious high-level area, known for its punishing landscape and ghoulish mobs that were rumored to haunt people even when they logged out.
The sound of crunching footsteps grew closer. Keqing cursed. There had to be a way out of this. She sat up, planting a foot on the ground to stand, but as soon as she applied any pressure to her leg, an invisible weight dragged her back down.
What the—?
The word IMMOBILIZED flashed in an angry, floating red screen above her left ankle. Keqing groaned. Well, that was great. Now she was ripe for the picking if the prowling monsters caught sight of her.
Forced handicaps. Keqing remembered one of the tutorial NPCs going through the topic, but she hadn’t expected her first encounter with the mechanic to happen so quickly. Thanks to the limiting pain sensors, she felt nothing but a dull ache on her ankle, but the incongruence of not actually being injured and not being able to stand was a strange feeling. Maybe she really ought to crank up the pain sensitivity for a more immersive experience.
Growl…
But perhaps not right this second. Monsters were snarling at the top of the hill where Keqing fell from, their footsteps agitated as they scouted the area. Maybe they’d lost track of her after the fall? She didn’t know how good the AI in this game was, but it seemed pretty advanced if they could track her movement this far. She could only hope that they weren’t smart enough to look down.
It was unfortunate, then, that she made eye contact with a pair of glowing red eyes.
The monster—a Hilichurl Rogue—let out a deafening roar, alerting its comrades of their prey. A band of Mitachurls followed suit a second later, brandishing big, blood-stained axes, and soon Keqing was making eye contact with six pairs of glowing red eyes.
Keqing slinked further down into the ditch, heart pounding. She knew the danger wasn’t real, but virtual or not, the prospect of death was still terrifying. She opened her inventory screen again, swiping frantically to see if she had any healing items on hand. Box after box was filled with nothing but Qingxin, which restored a measly one health point. Of course she didn’t have anything useful. She’d emptied her whole inventory right before journeying off, just so she could fit in extra loot.
A Mitachurl lunged down at her axe first. Keqing squeezed her eyes shut.
SHRK!
Keqing winced, eyes still closed. Thankfully, she didn’t feel any pain. Was she dead already? Maybe one-shot kills were merciful like that.
SHRK! SHRK!
Keqing frowned. They were really hacking at her body, huh? How long did it take to respawn, anyway? Were players forced to lie dead for a certain amount of time to bask in their shame?
SHRK! SHRK!
Still no pain, at least. That was good. What did monsters do after killing a player? Did they just go back to their spawn points? Morbidly curious, Keqing opened her eyes, expecting to see six angry Hilichurls looming over her, slicing and dicing her virtual corpse.
Instead, the sight of blue hair flashed in front of her.
SHRK!
Before Keqing could even process what was happening, the Hilichurl Rogue hit the ground, dispersing into a sprinkle of light particles. She surveyed the area, noting that none of the other Mitachurls were even around anymore. Pockets of loot littered the ground. No more snarls, just the faint sound of leaves rustling in the wind.
How?
“Are you alright?” a soft, feminine voice called out to her.
Keqing blinked, looking up. A hand was extended to her. A hand that belonged to possibly one of the most gorgeous women Keqing had ever seen. Luscious blue hair that reminded her of fluffy clouds, eyes like the color of sunset, her spandex bodysuit teasing at the toned body underneath. She was an archer, Keqing realized, seeing the longbow strapped behind her back. No wonder she could dispatch the monsters so swiftly.
“Um, yeah,” Keqing said, taking her hand. Her mouth felt dry.
“I’m Ganyu, by the way,” the other woman said, slinging Keqing’s arms around her shoulder. The IMMOBILIZED screen above her ankle disappeared. Huh. So it went away as soon as you received assistance.
“Keqing,” she returned, letting herself be propped up. Ganyu’s deceptively strong frame was pressed against hers, and she could feel the way her arm muscles flexed as Ganyu carried her off. Keqing was grateful for the dark ambience of Wuwang Hill; she was certain her face was red.
“You were in quite a predicament,” Ganyu remarked. Floating purple spirits dissipated as they grew closer to them, as though afraid of Ganyu’s presence. She led them to a tall tree, setting Keqing against the trunk. “I’ve never seen such a low level player get stranded here before.”
“You can tell?” Keqing asked.
“Yes, it’s an appraisal skill trait. You can unlock it at a later level—thirty or so, I believe?” Ganyu said, pulling out her inventory and tapping on an object. A bottled potion materialized in her hand, and she sprayed it along Keqing’s ankle.
“Oh, I’m only level ten.”
As the liquid set on Keqing’s skin, a cool, minty sensation washed over her ankle. Her health bar popped up again, and the miniscule sliver of red health filled all the way back up to a hearty green. The dull ache went away, too. Gingerly, Keqing planted her foot on the ground, and surely enough there was no interference preventing her from standing on her own.
“Good as new,” Ganyu said, smiling. The potion disintegrated from her hand, and she stood as well to face Keqing.
Keqing flushed. Ganyu was so nice. And competent. And pretty. “Thank you. I really appreciate it. Um, I don’t have much, but”—she pulled out a tiny coin purse from her inventory, no bigger than the size of her fist—“I’ve got this!”
A breeze swept past them, and Keqing’s coin purse flopped uselessly in the air. The sound of ten—maybe twelve—coins jingled inside.
Ganyu stared at it blankly.
“Um,” Keqing said, feet shuffling, “I know it’s not a lot, but—”
Ganyu burst into light laughter, waving her suggestion off. “Oh no, no—please, that’s quite alright. I don’t need any compensation. Helping someone new is always nice.”
Keqing wasn’t sure if her face could get any hotter. She pocketed her coin purse again, feeling a mixture of shame and embarrassment wash over her. Of course—Ganyu was a high-level player. Nothing Keqing owned would be of any value to her. “Thank you again, then.”
Ganyu leaned against a tree trunk opposite from her, regarding her curiously, mirth still twinkling in her eyes. “I have to say, though—I’m surprised. This is a level sixty area. New players don’t get lost here often. Or at all, really.”
At this angle, Keqing could appreciate her attire a little better, the way her bodysuit cut off to reveal her bare shoulders and arms, and the high-waisted silk wrap skirt tied around her waist. Keqing suddenly felt self-conscious with her rag-like clothing.
“Well, I didn’t get lost.”
“Does that mean you ventured out here on your own?” Ganyu’s eyes widened.
Ah, well at least this was an opportunity to show off that she wasn’t completely useless. Keqing smirked. “Yep! Took me a couple of hours, but I traveled here all the way from Mondstadt.”
“The starting town. A direct path?”
“I believe so.”
Ganyu put her hand on her chin and hummed, eyebrows knitted in thought. “That must mean that you haven’t unlocked any of the nearby teleports yet.”
Keqing laughed sheepishly, rubbing her neck. “No, I only have a few of the starting area teleports unlocked, but none of the main cities. I was planning on making my way to Qingce Village, but I fell by accident into a ditch. Which is how you found me.”
“I see. Well, I’m sure you’ve realized that home teleportation around this area is disabled. And I’m assuming Mondstadt is your home teleport, considering you haven’t unlocked any other major cities.”
Keqing sighed. “Yeah, I figured that out when I was trying to get out of here.”
“You would need a scroll of teleportation to leave the area safely,” Ganyu explained, “but you wouldn’t have one of those either since you haven’t visited any other city.”
“Yes, I figured that out, too,” Keqing said, frowning. “It’s silly, but the only option I had left was to…well, walk to the next closest town. And you know how that went.”
Now that Keqing was having this conversation with Ganyu, it was glaringly obvious how grossly underprepared she’d been. No health potions, no escape route, lack of knowledge on the monster AI… She’d vastly underestimated the dangers of this game.
“Right, so you won’t be able to make it back to Mondstadt like this,” Ganyu agreed. “The monsters here are highly aggressive and alert based on sound, not just sight.” She hummed, pulling up her screen to bring up Keqing’s stats. “Your stealth skill is rather good for your level. I can see how you got as far as you did, but it won’t be enough.”
Keqing pouted. How convenient Ganyu could just spy on her stats like that. Must be nice to be a veteran in this game. She swept through her own menu interface, tapping on the compass icon. A map materialized in front of her, and she moved over next to Ganyu. There was a blue dot centered on her location. “Do you know of any safer routes around here, then?”
“I might, but there’s no need,” Ganyu said, sending her screen away with a flick of her wrist. “I can teleport us out, as long as I hold onto you.”
“H-Hold onto me?” Keqing jumped as Ganyu’s arm snaked around her waist, her hand sliding against Keqing’s skin through an opening of her raggedy top. Her map flickered shut.
“Oh!” Ganyu let her go, putting space between them. “I apologize—I should have asked.”
Keqing’s heart pounded in her chest, the warmth from Ganyu’s touch still lingering. She got the sense that Ganyu was used to helping people out, with the ease that she displayed in assisting her, but was she always this forward with other newbies? “It’s okay. I was just surprised, that’s all.” She stepped in closer to Ganyu again, wringing her wrist. “You may, um, hold me.”
Ganyu nodded, relief washing over her face as she smiled. “Alright, then.”
Slowly this time, as though mindful of not spooking Keqing, Ganyu reached over and placed both hands on Keqing’s shoulders. It was clear she was avoiding a repeat of earlier and accidentally feeling her up, but being face to face like this—close enough that Keqing could count her eyelashes and smell her woodsy scent—was infinitely more embarrassing.
A glowing blue circle appeared beneath their feet, and a strong current of wind surrounded them, sending Keqing’s flying hair in all sorts of directions.
“Teleport: Liyue Harbor,” Ganyu said.
With a swoosh, they were off.