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Dear Amber, the journal begins, written in her grandfather's elegant, looping handwriting, I hope this journal finds you well.
Today was a big day for you. I took you to the blacksmith and you were fitted for your own glider—seeing you standing there, standing ever so still as Wagner measured you and bouncing on your feet every time he pulled away, it was an experience I don't think I will ever forget. Hopefully, you won't either.
It's okay if you don't remember—you are still so young and have your whole life in front of you. You may not even understand the significance of today. But that's one of the reasons I have decided to keep this journal—so you can have these memories from my perspective.
Such a long time ago—the memory is hazy, like a minnow darting through murky waters, and her grandfather's note has brought it back to the surface.
She turns the page—and finds another entry written for her.
Dear Amber,
Today you lost a tooth—the first of many. I had thought your first one would come out during a gliding session based on your, ahem, interesting techniques. But no, you bit into an apple and out it came, easy as could be.
For a moment, I thought something was wrong; you stared down at your cupped hand for at least a minute, not moving, eyes wide. And then you looked up at me and beamed, a hole right where your front tooth would have been.
I hope you never lose that smile.
There are only so many pages Amber can read through before the night grows late—candles melting down into waxy puddles and owls hooting outside her window—so she sets the journal aside, despite the gnawing hunger in her to read more, to clutch this last relic of her grandfather safe in her arms.
She prepares for bed and clambers under the covers. Tomorrow. The journal will still be there for her to read tomorrow.
Dear Amber,
Today marks the start of Lantern Rite. It is one of my favorite Liyuen festivals—and has great significance to our family in particular. There’s a story our family tells during this time, of twins, brother and sister, who fought in the Archon War together. After the war ended, the brother returned home excited and triumphant, ready to reunite with his dear sister.
She wasn’t there when he arrived, so he waited. He waited a day, then two, then three. A week passed and his sister had not returned to him. She was alive, he knew; their twin bond still burned in his heart.
And so he crafted lanterns by hand—ten, twenty, fifty. He crafted them until the moon rose above the mountains. One by one, he lit their flame and let them soar.
Three days of this—crafting the lanterns and letting them fly—and then his beloved sister stumbled through the gates of their home, haggard and looking worse-for-wear, but alive. The lanterns had brought her home.
Not many people remember the original use for the lanterns, but our family does. We remember because without the lanterns, our family would have been lost.
One day I hope we can visit Liyue Harbor and the Lantern Rite festival together. I’d like to make a lantern with you—one to remember our loved ones with. And one to celebrate the family we still have… you, and I.
Amber’s heart weighs heavy in her chest as she reads this entry. She has heard of the Lantern Rite festival, of course, having listened to Aether’s stories and Paimon’s culinary anecdotes, but the rest—her family hails from Liyue? She’d always known her grandfather had immigrated to Mondstadt… but had never known where he’d come from.
She had figured it was a painful memory and wanted to wait until she was older and he was ready to talk about it.
Now it’s too late.
She flips the page.
Dear Amber,
Mingyun village is where I grew up. It's little more than ruins now, since everyone had either moved on to the Chasm for better mining opportunities or to Liyue Harbor to pursue other options…but it will always be considered home to me. We lived in a small house on the edge of the village —me, my parents, my father's sister and her children— and spent our days mining iron and the occasional Noctilucous Jade or Cor Lapis. In the evenings my father would teach me and my cousins how to whittle little wooden animals out of sandbearer wood while the family finch sang its little birdsongs.
I hope I get to take you there one day.
Even before Amber had finished the last line, she'd made her decision: she will visit her family's village in Liyue. It doesn't matter if the only remnants of the village are piles of rubble or old, dilapidated buildings that are mere ghosts of what they used to be—if her grandfather, and the rest of their family, had once lived there…then she wants to visit, to stand on the same soil that they had once stood upon, to experience the view that they, too, had enjoyed.
There's a lovely girl named Xiangling, Jean says as she stamps Amber's leave of absence request, who would make a great guide. Would you like her information?
Amber nods.
Xiangling, as it turns out, is a firecracker. Exuberant, full of life, and as knowledgeable about Liyue as Amber is about Mondstadt, she adds much-needed color to Amber's trip.
"Mingyun village isn't too far," she says as they sit down for dinner at a place called Wangshu Inn. The atmosphere is warm and lively and Amber can't help but smile as Xiangling takes it upon herself to shovel a little bit of every dish in front of them onto Amber's plate. "There used to be a lot of miners there," Xiangling continues, sliding a bowl of steaming rice toward Amber, "up until the Chasm started recruiting folks, at least. But that was a while ago. It's mostly empty houses that have fallen into disrepair now."
"You've been there?" Amber's heart does a little thump in her chest. One step closer.
Xiangling smiles and gestures for Amber to pick up her chopsticks. "Of course! I'm a cook, you see, and I like to gather ingredients myself when I can. Mingyun Village has some really tasty berries that grow around there—you've got to give them a try when we arrive! Speaking of," she says as she points toward a small dish full of a bright yellow jelly, "this is made with the same kind of berry, just a local variation. The flavor is a bit different, but still delicious."
Perhaps her grandfather had eaten the same type of berries after a long day in the mines, Amber thinks. Maybe he had shared handfuls of them with his cousins and their finch. She wonders if they'll taste the same or if the years have altered their flavor. Hopefully it'll be like a little glimpse back in time with a single bite. Another connection to family—those lost, loved, and never met.
Amber tries a bit of the jelly—sweet, slightly tart, with a hint of earthiness—and makes a delighted noise in the back of her throat. "This is really good," she says, eyes wide and earnest. "I can't wait to try the berries by Mingyun village."
Xiangling’s grin is bright and excited. “If we rest at the inn tonight, we can be on the road first thing in the morning. It might take us half a day to reach the village—you could have the chance to try them tomorrow!”
Tomorrow.
What a notion—she could stand in the same spot her grandfather and their family had once stood tomorrow. It doesn’t feel real, and yet it’s so close it’s like she can almost touch it.
They finish the rest of the meal with plenty of companionable chatter. Xiangling regales tales of her adventures through Liyue, trying to find interesting ingredients for her somewhat eclectic dishes, and Amber responds with stories of the Outriders that her grandfather had once told her.
When the next morning arrives, it’s with the addition of a new friend.
The trek to Mingyun Village is full of laughter and more shared stories. Amber had worries that her nerves would get the best of her and that she wouldn’t be able to enjoy the adventure through Liyue’s countryside, but she finds that Xiangling’s company allows her to relax and enjoy the journey.
Xiangling has little anecdotes about each bend in the road they pass, it seems.
One time, a donkey chased me over this ridge!
There used to be a food stall here. They sold the best Jueyun Chili Poppers—but it’s such an isolated road, they ended up moving closer to Liyue Harbor.
The Fatui like to hang out around this old tree. Not sure why, but they haven’t bothered me since I shared my spicy cornbread with them. I don’t mind, though! More for me and Guoba.
I tried to harvest a Whopperflower here…turns out they aren’t fans of people tugging their petals!
Xiangling’s tales are so varied and interesting that Amber doesn’t notice they’ve arrived until Xiangling stops, throws her hands up, and announces: “We’re here!”
Amber glances around, breath caught in her throat. They’re standing in the middle of what had likely been the town square—dilapidated buildings form a half-circle around them, outlined with raised flower beds full of dirt and dust.
Old, weathered notice boards stand crooked at varying intersections of the abandoned town, paper yellowed from age and rain; Amber reads the closest one.
Progress is important, but personal safety is paramount.
And a pang goes through her heart. This phrase, this saying, had been one of her grandfather’s favorite instructions to give both his Outriders and Amber during their lessons. It had been a core value that he had long held, that Amber had taken to heart because of him.
And this—this is where he had learned it.
“Would you like to look around?” Xiangling asks, bringing Amber back to the present.
Who knows what else lies in the ghost of this village? Amber takes a breath, then nods. “Absolutely.”