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ArabicGenshin Impact: A Guide to the Unofficial History of Teyvat — Chapter 2
Chapter 2: Even Melusines Want to Write Novels!
Just as Lovia sat slumped against the wall, her stomach rumbling in protest, a rhythmic, theatrical voice drifted over on the warm Liyue breeze.
“…It is said that Rex Lapis, bearing the title of Morax, swept through the four directions and protected this corner of the mortal world! When His Excellency cast down his Stone Spears of Guyun, the very archipelago was formed, and the dark gods were utterly defeated…”
The booming voice belonged to a storyteller holding court near Wanmin Restaurant.
Lovia felt a sudden jolt course through her tiny frame. She struggled to sit up, peeking out from behind the stone corner of the alleyway. A large crowd of tea drinkers had gathered around the storyteller, hanging onto his every word in rapt fascination.
Rex Lapis… Morax…
Those familiar names acted like a master key, instantly unlocking the floodgates of her sealed memories. Every single detail of her past life’s obsession with this world—the characters, the convoluted lore, and the endless stream of internet memes that used to make her and her forum friends laugh until they cried—came rushing back in an overwhelming tide.
Zhongli! That beautiful, socially inept consultant who never carried a single Mora in his pockets! The man who would casually cross his arms, say “I’ll take them all,” and then naturally forward the exorbitant bill to the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, or better yet, dump it onto the lap of the perpetually unlucky Tartaglia!
A brilliant, albeit potentially suicidal, idea struck the starving Melusine like a bolt of electro energy.
That was it! The people of Teyvat held Rex Lapis, the mighty Adepti, and the legendary heroes in absolute, unshakeable reverence. Who would ever dare to make fun of them? At most, traditional storytellers would recount their epic deeds with solemn respect.
But she was different. Her head was an absolute goldmine of dark history and parody memes about these untouchable figures.
What if she wrote those ridiculous things down?
For example… what if she penned a masterpiece titled ‘Record of the Lord’s Wanderings: Morax Didn’t Bring Any Money Today’?
Just visualizing that title on a book cover made an inexplicable surge of power—perhaps the sheer, unadulterated power of internet trolling—well up from the bottom of her heart, entirely suppressing her gnawing hunger.
What did this world desperately lack? The spirit of entertainment! Down-to-earth, scandalous gossip! A completely humanized, nonsensical interpretation of the divine!
And she, Lovia, the undisputed Meme King and veteran fanfic writer who had once dominated the online forums of her past life, was perfectly equipped to fill that gaping void.
Sure, she might get dragged away by the Millelith on charges of extreme blasphemy, but surely that was better than starving to death in a back alley.
Take a gamble, and a Slime might just turn into Ningguang!
With that thought, the dangerous light of hope reignited in Lovia’s large, gem-like sapphire eyes.
She patted down her pockets. Empty. The only items of value she possessed were the exquisite quill pen that had mysteriously appeared with her dress, and a completely blank notebook.
“It’s decided.” She stood up abruptly. Though her small body wobbled precariously from low blood sugar, her gaze remained incredibly firm. “Knowledge is power, and memes are wealth! I relied on a keyboard in my past life; in this life, I’ll use a quill pen to stage my grand comeback!”
The moment she found her balance, Lovia subconsciously reached up to tug her hood down, ensuring it tightly concealed her features. ‘Hmm, I’ll need a pen name, too. I absolutely cannot expose my identity as a Melusine.’
First, she needed a place to draft her brilliant inspiration. It didn’t need to be fancy, just somewhere sheltered from the wind and prying eyes. Then, she could submit it. She remembered hearing about Wanwen Bookhouse in Liyue Harbor, a place that frequently accepted outside manuscripts.
Gripping her quill and notebook tightly against her chest, Lovia adjusted her cloak to look like nothing more than a lost human child in slightly oversized clothing. She took a deep breath and marched out of the alley, her steps a bit floaty but fueled by sheer determination.
The bright Liyue sunlight washed over her, but the heavy hood blocked the glare, casting only a small, determined shadow at her feet.
The peaceful, prosperous daily life of Liyue Harbor was about to be turned upside down by a starving Melusine trying her absolute best to stay hidden.
And her very first target was none other than the esteemed consultant of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, the retired God of Liyue himself—Mr. Zhongli.
Clutching her pitifully small belongings, Lovia wound her way through the complex, bustling streets of the harbor. Eventually, she found an ideal spot in a quiet, forgotten corner behind a stack of old wooden shipping crates. The sunlight could barely penetrate the narrow gap, keeping it perfectly shadowed, and most, it was completely deserted.
She sat down on the cobblestones with extreme care, making sure the fabric of her cloak wrapped securely around her tail and small wings. Then, with the solemnity of a scholar taking the imperial exam, she opened the blank notebook, took a deep breath, and uncapped the quill.
“Record of the Lord’s Wanderings: Morax Didn’t Bring Any Money Today…” she muttered under her breath, the tip of her pen hovering hesitantly over the crisp paper. “No, that’s way too direct. What if I get arrested on the spot before I even get paid? It needs to be subtle, yet funny enough to grab a reader’s attention…”
Her sapphire-blue eyes darted back and forth as a flash of absolute cunning crossed her face.
“Got it!”
The tip of the quill finally met the paper, producing a frantic, satisfying rustle.
Her crippling hunger vanished, entirely eclipsed by the burning passion of creation. She wrote at a blistering pace, occasionally pausing to chew on the end of the pen barrel—though she quickly realized the quill wasn’t edible—and letting out suppressed, gremlin-like giggles. Beneath the heavy cloak, her tail wagged furiously, betraying its owner’s immense excitement.
Before long, a short, punchy, and utterly devastating piece of unofficial history was freshly completed.
Lovia reviewed the draft carefully, ensuring her handwriting was reasonably neat. She was still a bit unaccustomed to the motor skills of a Melusine’s body, but the text was legible, and the content was sufficiently abstract and eye-catching.
Nodding in deep satisfaction, she carefully tore the page from the notebook and folded it into a neat square.
Then, she took out a second sheet of paper and drafted a quick note:
‘To the Owner of Wanwen Bookhouse: Entrusted by a certain gentleman who wishes to remain anonymous, I am submitting one of his great works for your esteemed review. If it meets your standards, please hold the manuscript fee at the bookhouse for now; the client will come to collect it in the near future.’
Now for the final step, the absolute key to the plan’s success—the disguise.
Lovia took another deep breath, yanked her hood down even further, and double-checked that not a single non-human feature was exposed. Feigning the calm, innocent demeanor of a child running an errand for an adult, she walked toward the memory of Wanwen Bookhouse.
The storefront of Wanwen Bookhouse wasn’t overly large, but it radiated a quiet, scholarly atmosphere, rich with the comforting scent of aged paper and fresh ink.
Behind the counter, the boss was leisurely flicking the beads of an abacus, settling the accounts for the month. Business was steady, neither booming nor failing. The bestsellers remained the traditional chivalric martial arts novels and the grand legends of Rex Lapis, tales the local readers never seemed to tire of.
Suddenly, a small figure draped in a hooded cloak slipped into the shop. The child was incredibly short in stature, their footsteps completely silent against the floorboards.
“Mister Boss…” a distinctly childish, tender voice called out from beneath the hood. “Someone asked me to give this to you.”
A tiny hand darted out from the folds of the cloak, slapping two folded pieces of paper onto the wooden counter. Then, before the man could even blink, the child spun on their heel and bolted out the door like a startled finch, vanishing into the bustling Liyue crowd in an instant.
“Eh? Little one? Who told you to deliver this?” The boss’s question hung in the empty air. Frowning in confusion, he picked up the two sheets of paper.
He read the commission letter first and let out an amused chuckle. “Which adult would send such a tiny child to deliver a manuscript instead of just coming themselves?”
Shaking his head at the eccentricity of writers, he unfolded the actual manuscript.
At first, his expression was perfectly casual, carrying the bored, flat look of a man who had reviewed thousands of amateur submissions.
His gaze dropped to the title, and he read it aloud. “‘The Wanderings of the Mortal Rock: Part One’? Shi Pochen? That name is quite interesting. It sounds like the pseudonym of some high-minded hermit…”
However, as his eyes tracked down the page, they began to widen.
The leisurely, amused smile on his lips completely froze, then began to twitch uncontrollably.
His fingers started to tremble, shaking so hard that his hand brushed against the abacus, sending the wooden beads rattling loudly into the quiet shop.