When I first arrived in Liyue during the Lantern Rite of 2024, I knew I was meant for more than just following in my father's footsteps. The call of the drums and the vibrant energy of the harbor festival ignited something within me. My name is Gaming, and I am a Wushou dancer—a vessel for a tradition that bridges our world with the ancient spirit of the Suanni. Every step I take, every fiery burst from my Vision, is a story written in movement and flame, a tale of luck, courage, and heritage that many might overlook in the heat of battle.
My most constant companion is the black Suanni lion head I dance with and fight beside. 🦁 In the real-world traditions this art draws from, the color of the lion speaks volumes. A black lion represents youth, impetuous energy, and quick, decisive movements. Looking back, I see myself in that description perfectly. I was the young dancer who ran from home, choosing the uncertain path of performance over settling differences, tackling challenges with sheer gusto rather than careful planning. My entire journey has been a classic black lion routine—facing the beast of uncertainty (a stable future versus my passion) head-on, learning through stumbles, and gradually finding balance with the help of others, much like how an older lion or the guiding Happy Buddha would intervene in a traditional dance.
The Pyro Vision at my hip is no accident. It’s a direct echo of the firecrackers that are central to the lion dance's origin myth. The tradition says it began to scare away the Nian Shou, a mythical beast terrified of loud noises and the color red. My elemental skills create those very explosions—a booming Pyro area effect that disperses misfortune and evil spirits, with my charged attack delivering the final, percussive bang. It’s not just combat; it’s a ritual of purification and blessing for every battlefield I grace.
Red is the color that wraps around me, from the accents on my outfit to the very aura of my attacks. In our culture, red is luck, celebration, and protection. It’s the color of Lantern Rite envelopes, new year clothes, and festive decorations. By cloaking myself in red, I become a walking beacon of fortune, using its power, alongside my fiery cracks, to ward off any lingering darkness in Teyvat. It feels right that a Wushou dancer, whose purpose is to bring prosperity, would be so vividly dressed in the color of good luck itself.
My freedom of movement in battle comes from an outfit deeply rooted in martial arts. The loose, buttoned top with a Mandarin collar and the comfortable harem pants are classic staples of Kung Fu and Tai Chi uniforms, the very foundations from which lion dancing sprang. The sash around my waist mirrors the cloth belts dancers use to secure their ornate, furry pants. Even the white details on my shoes are a subtle nod to the lion paw footwear or spats that dancers wear. Every stitch is designed for the agile, acrobatic life I lead.
You might notice my fingerless gloves. These aren't just for style. Inside the lion's head, dancers grip handles near the mouth, a hold that can quickly blister the sensitive skin between fingers. My gloves protect my hands during long performances and, given that I use my Suanni head in combat, provide crucial wrist support. A traditional lion head can weigh up to 100 pounds! While mine might be magically lighter, the principle remains—the dance demands both grace and resilience, and my gear reflects that duality.
My combat style incorporates one of the most breathtaking elements of high-level lion dance: the Jong. These are the elevated platforms on poles that dancers leap across with breathtaking acrobatics. During my standard attack combo, I summon a short Jong on the third strike, gaining the high ground. My plunging and elemental attacks all channel that feeling of soaring from platform to stage, striking down on adversaries from above just as a lion would descend triumphantly from the poles.
The soul of the dance is the percussion. 🥁 Without the driving beat of the drum, the clashing cymbals, and the resonant gong, the lion has no heartbeat. In a group, we move as one to the drum's command. Even now, when I unleash my charged attack, you can hear those traditional drumbeats fueling my movements. If you listen closely, you can pick out specific rhythmic sequences—a direct auditory bridge to the vibrant performances in the streets of Liyue Harbor.
Finally, my stances are my signature, drawn from the world of Wushu martial arts. After a combo, I often settle into a pose reminiscent of "Jin Ji Du Li"—the golden rooster standing on one leg. Following a plunging attack, I reset into what many troupes call a "pointed paw" stance, weight on my back leg, poised and cat-like. These aren't just for show; they are moments of controlled balance, allowing me to harness my momentum and flow seamlessly into the next flurry of movement. They give my Suanni its personality, a mix of playful agility and ready power.
Being Gaming is more than wielding Pyro. It's about carrying a thousand-year-old tradition on my shoulders, in every color I wear, every drumbeat I follow, and every stance I hold. I dance not just for victory, but to scatter good fortune like sparks from a firecracker, to remind everyone in Teyvat of the powerful, pulsing heritage we celebrate with every leap and every roar.