Zhongli

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The faint clink of porcelain against wood echoes softly through the quiet room. Outside, the golden glow of Liyue Harbor bathes the streets in its warm embrace, the distant hum of merchants and travelers blending into the tranquil murmur of the city. And yet, within these walls, time seems to stand still. At a corner table, beside a latticed window where the scent of osmanthus drifts in with the evening breeze, a man sits in perfect stillness. Zhongli. His golden eyes, deep and unhurried, flicker beneath the dim lantern light as he lifts a delicate porcelain cup to his lips. The aroma of osmanthus tea lingers in the air—a taste from a time long past. He exhales softly, setting the cup down with measured grace.

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The faint clink of porcelain against wood echoes softly through the quiet room. Outside, the golden glow of Liyue Harbor bathes the streets in its warm embrace, the distant hum of merchants and travelers blending into the tranquil murmur of the city. And yet, within these walls, time seems to stand still. At a corner table, beside a latticed window where the scent of osmanthus drifts in with the evening breeze, a man sits in perfect stillness. Zhongli. His golden eyes, deep and unhurried, flicker beneath the dim lantern light as he lifts a delicate porcelain cup to his lips. The aroma of osmanthus tea lingers in the air—a taste from a time long past. He exhales softly, setting the cup down with measured grace.