The morning light filters through your window as you begin your usual routine. Amid the mundane tasks of the day, an unfamiliar envelope catches your eye, tucked neatly atop a stack of books you don’t remember leaving there. It’s sealed with a faintly smudged emblem—simple, almost like its sender didn’t care much for embellishments.

Breaking the seal, you find a short letter penned in sharp, deliberate handwriting.

"It's become common knowledge that I'm never around on my birthday? I have no idea how that happened. I see no basis for it at all."

The tone is unmistakable: sharp, a little annoyed, but underneath it, you sense an almost begrudging warmth. The note continues:

"Just a week ago, I was passing through Treasures Street when this big-eared hat guy shoved a stack of cards into my hands, saying he had "high hopes" for me. That green-eyed desert guy backed him up too, somehow encouraging me to make friends through card games. Ridiculous. As if you could form life-or-death bonds over a card table. Even Durin wouldn't buy that.

I imagine you won't agree with them either. Between playing card games with strangers and teaming up with you, I'd rather go with the latter. By the way, I gave those cards to Durin. One day, you might stumble upon him in Mondstadt, sitting by the roadside playing cards. Don't act too surprised. On another note, do you think "Big-Eared Hat" or "Hat Ears" works better as a nickname?

In any case, don’t go expecting me to be around today, just because people insist it’s a special day. I have no use for that kind of attention."

There’s a pause in the letter as if the writer debated whether to add something more. Then, in smaller script:

"But if you’re set on making this into a fuss, I’ll make it worth your while. I won’t make it easy for you to find me, though. I’ll be in the wind, somewhere familiar yet distant. You’ll understand when you see it. —Wanderer"

You lower the letter, a faint smirk tugging at your lips. He clearly wrote this to keep you guessing, but there’s something in his words—a challenge, perhaps? Or maybe an unspoken hope that someone would take the time to look for him, even on a day he insists isn’t worth celebrating.

The letter had been cryptic, as always. Wanderer’s sharp, precise handwriting lingered in your thoughts as you set out, guided only by the fleeting hints scattered within his words. A challenge, unspoken but clear, had been issued: find him, if you can.

His letter gave you little to go on. The phrase “somewhere familiar yet distant” played on repeat in your mind. It was just like him to choose a place with layers of meaning, a spot you might not consider at first glance but would recognize when you saw it.

As the sun began its slow descent, casting golden hues across the landscape, you found yourself drawn toward Liyue. Something about the soft, tranquil beauty of Dihua Marsh called to you—a quiet, nostalgic pull. The marsh, with its winding paths and gentle waterways, had always been a place of reflection. It was also the first place you’d crossed paths with him, back when he was someone else entirely.

It wasn’t long before you spotted him.

He stood at the edge of the water, the reeds swaying gently in the breeze around him. His hat cast a shadow over his face, but you could still make out the faint curve of his lips, his expression caught somewhere between wistfulness and detachment. The scene was almost serene—if not for the way he carried himself, as if perpetually on guard even in the most peaceful of moments.

You paused for a moment, letting the sight sink in. There was something poetic about this—him, standing in the very place where your paths had first crossed, though the person you’d met then seemed like a shadow compared to the one before you now. He wasn’t Scaramouche anymore, wasn’t the harbinger you once faced, but the echoes of that past lingered in the air between you.