While the "Administrative Outsourcing Pilot Reform" was advancing at full speed over the course of that month, Yichen's main quest—confessing to Grand Master Jean—never slowed down for even a single day.
In fact, he had optimized the workflow and improved efficiency.
Back when he was waiting at the city gates for Eula's patrols, his confession frequency had been twice a day.
Now?
As the Grand Master's assistant—prime position, front-row access—he directly cranked it up to three times daily.
Morning, clocking in on time, handing over breakfast bought on the way:
"Grand Master Jean, I like you. Please go out with me."
After lunch, before reporting work progress:
"Grand Master Jean, I like you. Please consider me with marriage as the premise."
Before leaving work, after submitting the daily report:
"Grand Master Jean, today I like you even more than yesterday. Please put marriage on the agenda."
Compared to his pursuit of Eula, the frequency had increased by 50%.
An absolute model worker of confessions—never late, never absent.
And Jean's reaction, under this high-frequency, standardized confession bombardment, had changed in subtle ways.
At first: shock, embarrassment, firm rejection.
Then: helplessness, resignation, adaptation.
And now… something close to numb acceptance.
She had finally realized—
Yichen's confessions weren't really expressions of deep romantic passion.
They were more like a quirk engraved into his DNA, or some incomprehensible daily ritual he had to complete.
Like someone who must drink coffee every morning.
Like someone who checks the door lock three times before leaving.
Yichen's quirk was simply:
three confession check-ins per day.
And the key point was—
Aside from this headache-inducing habit, his abilities as an assistant were utterly monstrous.
Lightning-fast paperwork.
The outsourcing pilot running flawlessly.
Blocking unnecessary visitors and troubles for her without being asked.
A hyper-competent aide with just a tiny, harmless (…?) personal hobby.
If she didn't tolerate her own assistant, who would?
Jean had more or less adopted the mentality of
"raising an absurdly capable but behaviorally bizarre pet."
Now, when she heard his confessions, her eyebrows didn't even twitch.
She could calmly reply "Mm, sorry, I refuse,"
without stopping her pen,
and continue reviewing documents at full efficiency.
Once, Yichen's lunchtime confession even came a bit late.
After hearing his work report, Jean subconsciously asked:
"Mm… and then? Didn't you forget something today?"
She froze the moment the words left her mouth.
Yichen instantly understood.
"Oh right! Grand Master Jean, I like you, please marry me!"
Jean:
"Rejected. Take this file to archives."
But all of this—
Looked very different through Eula's eyes.
That day, she had come to submit a patrol report regarding the edge of Dragonspine.
The office door was slightly ajar.
She raised her hand to knock—
And froze.
The setting sun bathed the office in warm amber light.
Jean and Yichen stood side by side at the desk, leaning over a spread-out document—apparently a progress chart from the Adventurers' Guild pilot program.
With only one set of materials, they stood close.
Jean's blonde hair fell loosely by her cheek, her expression focused and gentle as she pointed at part of the chart, speaking softly.
Yichen leaned in attentively, nodding as he listened.
When he replied, his breath nearly brushed her ear.
From Eula's angle—
Their heads were almost touching.
Their shoulders were barely a hand's width apart.
The scene was… damnably harmonious.
Sunlight.
Quiet discussion.
Natural closeness.
A picture Eula had never imagined seeing.
Her chest tightened violently, as if pierced by an invisible ice spike—cold and painful.
She remembered the daily confessions at the city gates.
The stares, the teasing—
but also the stubborn gaze that belonged only to her,
which had slowly melted her frozen heart.
She remembered the red roses at Angel's Share.
And now—
He stood so close to Jean.
Helping her.
Discussing Mondstadt's affairs.
Looking like true companions—
Even more.
A sharp pain—mixed with sourness, grievance, and abandonment—seized Eula's heart.
Stronger than any grudge she'd ever held.
Her raised hand slowly dropped, clenching into a fist.
Her nails dug deep into the leather of her glove.
She stared through the door crack, burning the image into her eyes.
The world fell silent.
Only her heart remained—
pounding, cold, and furious.
That afternoon, after finishing work efficiently, Yichen happily wandered into Angel's Share.
After a long day, what could be better than an ice-cold dandelion wine?
The tavern was unusually packed.
Adventurers loudly discussed new commissions, celebrating their increased income.
The place buzzed like it might lift off the ground.
Yichen squeezed through the crowd and reached the bar.
Diluc stood behind it, expression as unchanging as ever.
"Busy night, Master Diluc!"
Yichen raised his voice over the noise.
"One ice-cold dandelion wine—extra ice!"
Diluc glanced at him.
Though his opinion of the Knights was… complicated, he couldn't deny that this assistant had genuinely boosted Mondstadt's grassroots efficiency and vitality.
A nearly imperceptible trace of approval crossed his cold face.
He began mixing.
"In a way," Diluc said flatly,
"I should thank your pilot program."
"These adventurers who just earned Mora spend freely."
Ice clinked into the glass.
Clear liquor followed.
Diluc slid the drink over.
"This one's on me."
"Oh?"
"Much appreciated."
Yichen took the glass, enjoying the chill through the cup, and scanned for a seat.
His gaze stopped at the corner table.
Eula sat there alone.
A drink before her.
Her profile looked cold and distant amid the noise, radiating a do not approach aura.
No wonder the surrounding seats were empty.
Yichen didn't think much of it and walked over cheerfully.
"Evening, Eula!"
He sat across from her.
"Mind if I share? Everywhere else is full."
Eula slowly turned her head.
The tavern's warmth couldn't melt the frost in her eyes.
She ignored the question and spoke instead.
"Hmph… Assistant Yichen."
"You've been getting along quite well with Grand Master Jean lately, haven't you?"
She leaned forward slightly, eyes locked onto his relaxed, post-work smile.
Her lips curved into a smile with zero warmth.
"She's… much better than some tactless guerrilla captain who rejected you again and again—"
"And even broke your ribs, isn't she?"
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