[EARLY ACCESS] SHRINK IMPACT | GENSHIN IMPACT - CHAPTER 29

Sunlight spilled over a world that felt impossibly vast.

You’d dreamed of Liyue Harbor since your first steps in Teyvat—but nothing could have prepared you for seeing it like this: barely the length of a chopstick, pressed in the gentle warmth of Mona’s palm, peering through the parted folds of her cloak as she strode from the mountainside down into the heart of the port.

From up high, the city unfurled below you in brilliant golds and reds, tiered rooftops stacked like waves tumbling down the hillside toward the blue glitter of the sea. Bridges arched between pavilions, banners snapped in the wind, and in every direction you looked, lanterns bobbed above bustling crowds like a thousand fireflies in daylight.

You could feel Mona’s pulse as she descended the final stone steps into the city proper, her every stride a rolling earthquake for your fragile, doll-sized body. The scent of spices and incense hit you in a dizzying wave—ginger, star anise, fried dough, the subtle tang of the river. Steam curled from noodle stalls and tea shops, mingling with the salty breeze off the docks. Above, bells chimed, their sound vast and echoing, vibrating in your ribs.

From your hidden perch, the world was noise and color and heat. You caught flashes of passing faces—Liyue merchants in their flowing silks, porters balancing crates, laughing children darting through the legs of their elders, a pair of Millelith guards exchanging greetings by a lacquered archway.

Mona kept you tucked close, one protective finger curled lightly around your middle to steady you. Even so, the motion was overwhelming: every step jarred your senses, each shift of her body pressed you against the velvet lining of her cloak or the gentle curve of her breast.

But the view—oh, the view.

Each rooftop seemed to soar a mile above your head, its tiles glimmering with rainwater and gold. The stone dragons that crowned every stairway now looked like ancient mountains, their jaws big enough to swallow you whole. And when Mona paused by the dock, the ship masts loomed like forests, the harbor’s jade water stretching beyond your line of sight.

You heard voices all around, some booming and distant, some so close you could hear the breath in their words. Laughter echoed down the crowded causeways, mingled with the calls of vendors and the clatter of wooden wheels on stone.

Mona’s thumb stroked your back, her touch gentle as she whispered reassurance.

“Try not to be afraid,” she murmured, just for you. “Liyue’s always loud at this hour. You’re safe. I promise.”

But even Mona seemed smaller here, dwarfed by the city’s impossible scale. As she wove through the crowds, you caught the flicker of her reflection in a lacquered signboard: a mysterious astrologer with a secret hidden in her cloak, a living talisman cupped in her hands.

Every sense was on overload—smell, sound, touch. You felt the warmth of passing bodies, the brush of a paper lantern just above Mona’s head, the faint spray as a dockhand dropped a net of wriggling fish at her feet.

Yet through it all, you were spellbound.

You were tiny—insignificant in the city’s grand design. And yet, in Mona’s careful hold, you felt protected, cherished. Each step was a new marvel, each heartbeat a reminder that your journey was far from over.

As the sunlight shifted, casting red and gold across the harbor, Mona whispered, “We’re almost there. Hang on, Traveler.”

And for a moment, you were grateful for the impossible perspective—seeing Liyue as no one else ever had.

Small. Awed. Alive.

Liyue’s bustling avenues slowly faded behind as Mona carried you up winding, lantern-lit paths to Yujing Terrace. The air grew quieter, scented with osmanthus and the faint mineral tang of ancient stone. Mona moved with a careful, protective haste, whispering reassurance against her palm as she shielded you from the curious eyes of Liyue’s citizens.

At the terrace, beneath the boughs of a blooming tree, stood Ganyu—her pastel blue hair glinting in the sun, horns poking through the strands. She was hunched over a low desk, reviewing mountains of paperwork even this early in the day.

Mona approached, clearing her throat.

“Excuse me, Ganyu? I…I really need your help.”

Ganyu glanced up, her gentle eyes blinking in confusion, then concern as she noted Mona’s tense posture—and the way she clutched her cloak close.

“Mona? I didn’t expect to see you. Is everything alright?”

She rose, her calm, soothing voice radiating warmth.

“It’s the Traveler,” Mona whispered. She drew you out, carefully opening her palm. “Something happened. A spell gone wrong… and they ended up like this. I don’t know how to turn them back. I thought…maybe with your adepti heritage, you’d know of a ritual, or an alchemical solution?”

Ganyu’s eyes went wide with surprise. She leaned closer, breath stirring your hair—a tidal wave of sweet, floral warmth at your scale. Her cheeks pinkened as she studied your shrunken form, her fingers twitching nervously against her paperwork.

“Oh my…are you alright? You’re awfully small…”

Her voice was so close it seemed to reverberate through your whole body. Ganyu’s concern was genuine, but her fluster was impossible to miss—her pale hands trembling as she reached to hover just above Mona’s palm, hesitant to touch.

“This is…I’ve never seen anything like this. Madame Ping might know more about such curses, but…the adepti do have rituals for restoring lost forms. They require…um, a great deal of personal contact. Usually direct skin-to-skin, to harmonize the qi…”

Mona coughed, her cheeks a little pink as well.

“Well, whatever it takes, we’ll do it. Right, Traveler?”

As long as it wasn’t another Lisa or Sucrose situation, she’d take what she could get.

Ganyu’s eyes flicked between you and Mona, worry mingling with an odd, tender curiosity.

“Until we’re sure of the safest ritual, we should keep you…protected.” She paused, biting her lip. “Would it be alright if I…carried you for a moment? Just to see if my adepti energy has any effect? You can stay inside my qixing robe, if you like.”

Before you could answer, Mona gently placed you into Ganyu’s soft palm. Her skin was cool, smooth, and carried the faintest hint of frost. Ganyu’s body temperature was much lower than Mona’s, but yet oddly comforting—a calm, soothing chill that seeped into your bones.

Ganyu lifted you close, cupping you gently against her chest—her qi radiating all around. The slow rise and fall of her breath pressed you into the warm, yielding softness of her chest, muffled by her elaborate robe and the gentle pulse of her heartbeat. You realized with a jolt of embarrassment that you were nestled right between her breasts, and Ganyu seemed equally flustered, her cheeks going pinker as she tucked you close, shielding you from the wind.

“I’ll…I’ll keep you warm, Traveler. Don’t be afraid,” she whispered, stroking your back with a single, trembling fingertip.

Mona stood nearby, arms crossed, trying to look scholarly but clearly watching with a mixture of envy and worry. “Let me know if you feel anything strange, Traveler—or if anything changes.”

For a long moment, Ganyu just held you, her qi quietly swirling through her, her breath tickling your hair. Her voice was a soothing lullaby above you, every word vibrating through your entire shrunken body.

“It may take some time…Sometimes, adepti healing requires close, careful harmony. And…sometimes, a bit of luck,” she added, smiling bashfully.

Between the gentle squeeze of Ganyu’s arms and Mona’s intense gaze, you realized that being “kept safe” during your time in Liyue might be far more intimate than you expected.