Genshin Impact, I, a mere mortal, cannot accompany you to the very end.

“If you don’t have enough money,” she paused, “just tell me… you can also do it in a dream.”

She was the Fire Rat General, a Yaksha who had lived for over two thousand years, but she was more like a little girl. She burned paper money one sheet after another, her eyes lowered.

"Tell Yingda in a dream... Yingda, I really want to see my elder brother again."

"Even dreaming about it is fine."

The paper money had been burned out; it melted into the flames, turning into fine, scattered ashes that drifted away slowly in the wind. The incense and candles were also mostly burned.

She kept her head down, her shoulders trembling slightly.

It's about time to leave.

“This year, only Yingda is here again.” She said, “After you left, the four of us haven’t been able to get together.”

“But everyone is doing well, so don’t worry, brother.” Yingda smiled gently; she loved to smile. “I’m very happy too.”

The sky darkened, and the weather seemed bad today. It was only early afternoon, but the sun had already set, and the gloomy sky looked as if it were covered with a layer of fog, as if it was about to rain.

"Actually, I've always been curious."

A boy's cool voice rang in Yingda's ear. He squatted down, picked up the paper money, and found that the paper money was printed with the face value of 'one hundred million Mora' and was issued by 'Northern Underworld Bank'. It seemed that the banking business of the Winter Kingdom had already infiltrated the underworld of Liyue.

"If everyone is burning through so much money, won't there be inflation?" Nuoyan tilted his head and asked seriously.

This is a question worth exploring.

Yingda seemed to be deep in thought.

She sized up the unfamiliar boy who had suddenly appeared. He was dressed simply, in a dark brown, straight-cut Zhongshan suit with a cinched waist. The fifteen-year-old boy had a handsome and delicate face, and his eyes were as gentle as jade.

It's strange, this place is clearly deserted.

What is inflation?

In fact, Yingda was thinking about what inflation meant.

She hasn't learned this idiom.

"When everyone has money, prices naturally rise, currency depreciates, and money becomes worthless."

The boy answered earnestly, "That's called inflation."

"The Winter Kingdom's ambition to destroy our Great Liyue remains undiminished. Unable to win the commercial war on the front lines of the mortal realm, they attempt to undermine our Great Liyue's underworld monetary system through currency invasion, causing an economic crisis and ultimately defeating the mortal realm through the underworld battlefield. We must deliver a crushing blow to them!"

Nuoyan spoke in a very serious tone.

"Then..." Miss Yaksha exclaimed in surprise, "Does that mean the money I burned for my elder brother isn't enough?!"

“That’s possible.” Nuoyan nodded seriously again.

"Then what should we do?" Yingda asked.

"Burn some components down." It was clearly an absurd topic, but Nuoyan answered very seriously: "Hard currency is best."

"I see."

Miss Yaksha nodded.

She propped her cheek on her hand, staring blankly at the mound of yellow earth. "I miss him so much."

"You miss him a lot?" Nuoyan listened quietly.

He gazed calmly at the mound of desolate graves, his heart devoid of any extraneous emotions.

[The second agreement: Go to a desolate slope in Wuwangpo, wait by a grave, and drink a cup of sake with the mourners.]

This cemetery has been abandoned for many years.

This was his second promise.

Nuoyan had no idea what this meant, nor did he know whose graves were there... but judging from the system's description, it seemed to be his own...

What's it like to visit your own grave?

Nuoyan doesn't understand.

It feels very strange.

However, it's quite obvious that this guy, whose past life is unknown, isn't very popular.

Haha, what terrible interpersonal relationships!

That's so embarrassing.

He's bound to be another short-lived idiot!

He had been waiting there for half a day, but not a single person had come to pay their respects. The grave mound was desolate and lifeless, standing alone in this desolate and bleak place, as if the whole world had forgotten it.

The little girl said that her older brother was buried in the grave.

Perhaps she knows a lot about her past life.

But Nuoyan wouldn't inquire about it.

Anyway, it's a sad and tragic story.

His life goal was already set: 'Live a carefree and happy life, take no responsibility for anyone or anything, be a carefree scoundrel, and live a willful life.'

All he wants is to be happy.

It's best not to form a bond with them, as it will only increase your loneliness.

To hell with the past.

Simply fulfill the agreement, then leave, without asking, talking, or caring.

“I miss him so much. It’s strange, he did such a thing, I should hate him... but I just can’t, even though I miss him so much. Everyone says I’m weird.”

Yingda murmured.

"Today is the first day of the new year,"

"How wonderful the New Year was back then! How happy we were before the war, when everyone was together."

Yingda rested her chin on her hand. She would never normally share such thoughts with ordinary people, but seeing this young man inexplicably made her relax.

"Setting off firecrackers, playing card games, and the fireworks were so beautiful... My older brother could cook a lot of delicious food. Everyone would sit together and celebrate all day long, getting drunk and being carried home by my older brother while still tipsy."

Ying Da said, "But things have changed now. We haven't been able to reunite for a long time. We're supposed to be a family... but we talk to each other less and less, and a rift has slowly formed between us... I haven't set off fireworks in a long time either, even though I could. It's strange, isn't it? The New Year isn't as joyful as it used to be."

Her crimson eyes dimmed somewhat.

Nuoyan shook his head. He sighed,

"The year has never changed. Fireworks, fireworks, and firecrackers—even if these things disappear, even if the authorities ban them, people who reunite still reunite, and happy people still have fun; it's just that there's less fun to be had."

"The true flavor of the New Year has faded, which is actually the human touch that has faded. People who reunite no longer reunite, people who are happy are no longer happy, friends grow up and drift apart. When the New Year is just a simple holiday ritual, reunions become just an annual year-end summary. Without the joy and anticipation of the past, who will take a boring 'year-end summary' seriously?"

Yingda shook his head. "That's strange."

"I'm leaving."

She patted herself, stood up, took out a flask of sake from her pocket, and, gazing at the tombstone, poured half a flask of sake onto the soil. This was considered a toast for Brother Fushe.

“We always hold a party on the first day of the new year, Brother Fushe. This is our agreement, and Yingda has kept it.”

It should be done seriously and authentically.

Let's have a drink together.

"what?"

Nuoyan raised the beer he was carrying and pointed to the grave. "I've come to pay my respects to him too."

surprise.

Yingda stared at the boy in front of him in surprise, never expecting him to say such a thing.

But he spoke very seriously, his light blue eyes were very earnest.

Clearly, none of the others, not even the Yakshas, ​​came; only she did.

“...Okay.” She nodded. “Thank you.”

As the sky grew increasingly dark, they drank a toast in the dim sunlight.

"Happy New Year."

After drinking this cup, Yingda was about to leave.

She neatly packed her belongings, swept away the ashes, waved goodbye, and walked away into the distance.

Her back looked tired and lonely.

Nuoyan watched her retreating figure, then suddenly called out, "Wait a minute."

[The second agreement: Go to a desolate slope in Wuwangpo, wait by a grave, and drink a cup of sake with the mourners.]

They had already finished their drink, but the agreement was not fulfilled.

Could it be...?

.

Nuoyan had a guess in his mind.

We need to wait a little longer.

-

It's raining.

The pattering raindrops tapped on the leaves of the bushes, making Wuwang Slope even darker. Time slowly passed, and Nuoyan waited patiently.

Dusk was gradually settling in.

The rain grew heavier and heavier, weaving a dense, fine net that covered the leaden sky.

I don't know how long I waited; perhaps it was already dusk.

Wuwangpo was eerily quiet.

Suddenly, the sound of light footsteps could be heard.

A figure appeared in the light drizzle.

He was a very aloof young man.