Meifang was born Xi Aiguo to a wealthy merchant family in Ionia. Making their money through transporting goods across the island by sea, the family practically lived on their ship since they rarely had the ability to stay in one place for long. Meifang liked the constant travel. He liked having a home that could move.

On one such trading trip from the northwest coast of Ionia to its south, their ship was blown farther out into the sea as a storm of unprecedented strength and size wracked the island. For weeks, the boy’s family and the crew they employed battled the violent rain and wind, losing to the waves and blowing into unfamiliar waters. Maneuvering the ship got harder and harder as they lost any concept of where they were until eventually, the ship fell to the typhoon.

Days later, Meifang washed ashore on the Noxian coast, weak and hungry, the ruins of his home far behind him. Having watched his parents succumb to the waves, he knew there was no hope of things ever returning to the way they were. Still determined to forge on, wherever that may lead, Meifang gathered himself and made for the nearest settlement.

For years, Meifang lived as a drifter, moving around just as frequently as he had in Ionia. He traveled from city to city, hitching rides in caravans, shifting between doing odd jobs and begging on the streets depending on the inclinations of the company he’d found himself in. In the worst of times, he would steal. He was light on his feet and quick with his fingers, never caught in the act— until one day, he tried to rob and armored man he assumed to be a foot soldier. At the last minute, he was caught.

When Meifang looked into the eyes of his would-be mark, he expected to see anger. Instead, there was something else he couldn’t place. Rather than punishing him, the man offered him a seat beside him at the bar and bought him a meal. He introduced himself as Kellam Lamine, a Noxian noble and war general, currently dressed down to avoid excess attention. When it came time for the both of them to move on in the morning, he offered Meifang a place to stay.

Lord Lamine gave Meifang the name Marco Lamine and for years, raised him as a son— that is, as a Noxian war general would raise a son. He was kind to the boy when they were at rest, even hiring a music instructor for him when he expressed interest in singing— but his drills were just as ruthless as one would expect, if not more so. Injuries were not unheard of from the way he trained Meifang. No amount of kindness in their downtime could make up for how battered and broken his body was on the worst of days. For how little remorse he saw in his father’s eyes, even as he knelt on the floor beside him to dress his wounds.

Leaving in the night, Meifang took back to the streets he had come from. Not wanting to return to a life of crime, he made use of his well-trained voice to pose as a traveling bard, dressed as a woman to throw any potential underlings of his father off his trail. It made him a good living— free room and board for a few weeks in one settlement as he performed for patrons before he moved onto the next one. Although he had little coin of his own, he was never hungry.

Still, Meifang knew that life wouldn’t remain like this forever, and it all came to and end one night when an associate of his father’s recognized him singing at the inn, even through the costume and makeup. Reluctantly, he agreed to go back home to his father.

Upon Meifang’s return, Lord Lamine still showed no anger, but that same glimmer in his eyes from all those years ago. Meifang, wiser now, identified it for what it was— the spark of interest in potential. And just that look was all it took for pride overcome Meifang, strong enough to wash away any grievances he had about the prospect of returning. His combat training resumed less than a week after he returned, but a new kind of training was added to the mix: espionage, poisons, concealed weapons. The makings of a spy.

During the preparation stages for the invasion of Ionia, the same year Meifang came of age, he was sent back to his homeland in order to gather information to gain an advantage in the war. Once again taking advantage of his voice, Meifang picked up the bard act once more and traveled all across the nation collecting secrets. The years of training had paid off— he was nearly flawless at the craft. When the time came for the attack, Meifang was taken home to report on his findings and hopefully, spend a little time at rest.

Unfortunately, a long vacation did not seem to be in the cards for him. Just two years after his return, he was sent back to Ionia with a new mission: to infiltrate the resistance and kill, or at least wound, its leader. On his first trip, combat had been a rarity, and although he'd won each and every encounter, he was far from confident that he had it in him to assassinate someone.

And so he tried. Secrets, he was good at uncovering. Trust, he could earn easily. He could fight well enough in her presence to impress, but when it came time to kill his mark, his hand wavered. He had her at a moment of weakness, a rare night for her where she was able to really sleep. It struck him how tragic it was that war could make a soldier of someone so young. He hesitated for a second too long, and she woke up.

Meifang ran, and no one gave chase behind him. The war ended a few years later. Just before the last of the troops left, he tried to board one of the smaller Noxian vessels, but was turned away. They wouldn't listen to anything he had to say, their only reaction to his pleading dismissive chuckles.

On the way back from the docks, Meifang was captured by members of the Navori Brotherhood who had accurately identified him as a traitor. Unable to find it within himself to fight, Meifang let himself be taken. Although tightly bound during the long ride to their destination, he was far from helpless. When negotiation for a truce failed, he played his two captors against each other until eventually, a fight broke out. He escaped in the ensuing chaos.

Knowing it was foolish to try to go home, Meifang turned to the life of a musician once again, taking up the alias he would introduce himself as from then on. He gathered fame as a traveling performer until eventually, he was offered a position at the Silken Bloom Lounge, a luxurious club that often offered exciting revelry deep into the night. Now, every time the moon rises, Meifang stuns audiences under a new persona with his powerful voice and beautiful bedazzled gowns of his own creation. He has routine, a warm bed to sleep in, and coin aplenty. But he still can’t shake the feeling that something is coming. Less confident in his fighting than he used to be, he's been mixing his own perfume. A special kind, that he won't let anyone touch. Better safe than sorry.

All in the hopes that one day, they'll be back for him. Whatever the cost.