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ArabicGenshin Impact: A Guide to the Unofficial History of Teyvat — Chapter 22
Chapter 22: Liyue’s Wealthy Melusine
In the present day, Lovia was considered something of a minor legend within Liyue Harbor’s literary circles—at least, in her own self-proclaimed opinion.
The fresh, elegant prose of “Record of Shi Po’s Wanderings” had successfully captured a dedicated readership among the city’s literati and refined scholars. Although her manuscript fees arrived on an irregular schedule, they formed a steady enough stream to cover her extremely primitive food expenses. After all, her absolute biggest financial drain was high-quality ores. As for seafood, she could easily catch that herself.
Seriously, when she first transmigrated to Teyvat, why hadn’t it crossed her mind to just dive into the ocean and hunt for her own meals? She was a Melusine! She had been so foolish back then.
What truly allowed Lovia to achieve total financial freedom, however, were her two explosive bestsellers that had sparked heated, borderline-scandalous discussions across the market—even drawing the wary attention of the Millelith.
“The Tragic Truth: The Geo Archon is a Synthesized God Who Caused His Wife’s Death!” and “The Name of Morax Conceals Twin Deities and a Contract of Life and Death!”
These two books, armed with their sensational clickbait titles and wildly imaginative, blasphemous content, were like a pair of golden geese. Because she shared the profit margins directly with the bookstore, every single reprint and every copy sold meant another heavy portion of Mora clinking merrily into her pockets.
Over the past two months, those royalties had accumulated into a sum that left her utterly astonished. Tens of thousands of Mora.
For a low-level Melusine who had been pinching pennies for rent before her transmigration, and who had genuinely feared starving to death in the streets of Liyue Harbor shortly after, this was an unfathomable fortune.
Lovia counted on her small fingers, her eyes widening as she realized her total income had easily breached the ten-thousand Mora mark.
‘Hiss—’She gasped, nearly choking on the half-eaten chunk of crystal ore in her mouth.’Does this actually count as… getting rich overnight?’
Reason dictated that in a bustling, talent-filled commercial hub like Liyue Harbor, an income of ten thousand a month hardly made her a top-tier elite. But for a Melusine with zero grand ambitions, whose daily expenses were almost entirely dedicated to procuring crunchy mineral ingredients—which she often just dug up herself anyway—this was more than enough. She was practically swimming in luxury.
Naturally, a certain Melusine author’s creative output subtly began to slow down.
It wasn’t complete idleness. The terrifying concept of eating away one’s fortune was still deeply etched into her DNA. It was simply that the suffocating urgency of being chased by deadlines, the sheer panic of needing to write today or starve tomorrow, had vanished.
Now, she wrote purely out of a sense of leisurely interest.
Lovia would squat comfortably in her soft, plush nest, drafting chapters with the expensive, high-grade ink and brushes generously sponsored by the young master Xingqiu. Her entire mindset had shifted.
Before, it had been a frantic: ‘Ahhh, I have to finish this chapter! If I don’t, I’ll literally starve to death!’Now, it was a relaxed:’Hmm, the weather is quite nice today. I think I’ll go for a swim in the sea, catch some fresh afternoon snacks, and then take my sweet time writing when I get back. The Mora is still clinking into my account anyway.’
Writing had transformed from a brutal survival mechanic into a pleasant hobby.
Lovia would occasionally stare blankly at her blank manuscript paper, pondering exactly where she should fabricate the story next—ah, no, where she should organically develop the plot next. As she brainstormed, she would subconsciously pull out a small, jagged stone, crunching on it with the same casual rhythm a human might use when cracking sunflower seeds.
“Sigh, is this the glamorous life of a rich woman…” Lovia murmured, happily tallying up another share of earnings the bookstore owner had just settled with her. Her small wings flapped joyfully behind her back, sending light ripples across the water in her nearby ceramic pot.
Of course, she understood that this kind of viral income was highly time-sensitive. The market hype would eventually fade, and the fickle interests of readers would shift to the next big scandal.
Manuscripts still needed to be written. New projects still needed to be launched.
It was just that now, she possessed the luxury of time. She could calmly select her subjects, carefully refine her prose, and even begin plotting out exactly which direction her next hit should spread rumors… er, conduct historical research in.
Speaking of her newfound stability, there was the matter of the Old Woman.
Ever since she secured a stable source of income, Lovia made it a point to take a deliberate detour to sit at the Old Woman’s food stall. She never explicitly brought up repaying that initial, life-saving kindness of a free meal. She knew the Old Woman had offered it out of pure, selfless goodwill, and trying to coldly measure that warmth with Mora would only create distance between them.
Instead, she expressed her gratitude through quiet actions.
She became a fiercely loyal regular at the stall. Even when she wasn’t particularly hungry, she would buy a small dish, sit down to eat it at a glacial pace, and chat with the elderly vendor. Whenever she saw the Old Woman getting overwhelmed with a lunch rush, Lovia would naturally stand up, clear away empty bowls, wipe down the greasy tables, and cheerfully greet incoming customers.
Initially, the Old Woman had kindly tried to refuse the help. “No need, no need, little girl. Just sit and rest.”
Lovia would just smile brightly, her hands never stopping their work. After a few weeks of this routine, the Old Woman couldn’t resist the girl’s stubborn persistence and simply let her be, occasionally sliding a plate of freshly made side dishes over for her to taste.
Lovia genuinely loved listening to the Old Woman’s raspy, aged voice as she slowly recounted the daily trivialities and neighborhood gossip of Liyue Harbor. Those ordinary, grounded sounds made her feel deeply anchored to this world, proving she was more than just a detached observer recording fabricated histories.
Recently, however, Lovia’s visits had visibly decreased in frequency.
The reason was purely biological. Her sense of taste was irreversibly shifting toward its true Melusine nature. The rich, delicate, heavily spiced layers of human cuisine were gradually becoming strange on her tongue, eventually morphing into something indescribably terrible.
A fragrant bowl of rice and vegetable soup now tasted more like a vague concept of warmth rather than any actual sensory enjoyment.
She still appreciated that warmth, but her body’s primal instincts drove her to seek out fresh, crunchy ores and raw seafood that actually suited a Melusine’s palate.
still, she refused to abandon the stall. Every few days, without fail, she would stroll over. She no longer came for the food, but for the quiet companionship and peace of mind. She would sit on the familiar small stool, watch the Old Woman bustle about, pass her ladles and rags, and listen to her chatter.
“Little girl, are you feeling unwell lately? You haven’t been eating much at all,” the Old Woman asked one afternoon, her wrinkled brow furrowing with concern.
Lovia offered a vague, reassuring smile. “Ah, I’m perfectly fine. I’ve just been trying to cook for myself at home recently.”
‘Mainly trying to see if a chaotic hodgepodge of raw fish and iron chunks tastes good,’ she added silently in her head.
The Old Woman didn’t press the issue. She just smiled kindly, letting out a soft sigh. “I know you young people like your independence, but you still need to eat well and dress warmly. If you ever run into any difficulties, you can always come find me.”
The Old Woman had absolutely no idea that the polite, slightly introverted girl sitting on her stool was the infamous author currently turning Liyue Harbor’s literary scene upside down. In her eyes, Lovia was just a sweet out-of-towner who used to go hungry but had finally found a steady job. She couldn’t possibly discern Lovia’s true identity as a Melusine, partly because she didn’t even know what a Melusine was, and partly because Lovia always wrapped herself up in thick layers of clothing whenever she visited the city streets.
Half a month after receiving the last manuscript from the mysterious Mr. Li Xin, Shopkeeper Sun of the Sanyu Bookstore was standing behind his counter, organizing the morning’s newly submitted drafts.
Most of them were from familiar, mediocre faces. A few were fresh attempts from amateurs, but the quality was wildly inconsistent. Just as he let out a heavy sigh, lamenting the sheer difficulty of finding a genuinely gripping story these days, his shop assistant hurried in carrying a package carefully bound in heavy kraft paper.
“Shopkeeper, we just received this. It was dropped off by a courier boy. He was acting very secretive—just shoved it into my hands and bolted.”
Shopkeeper Sun took the heavy bundle. It was quite thick and carefully wrapped. He broke the seal and peeled back the kraft paper, revealing a pristine stack of smooth, high-quality Xuan paper. The sheer expense of the stationary alone made him involuntarily straighten his posture.
“Oh? This paper isn’t cheap…” Shopkeeper Sun murmured, carefully sliding the top page free.
The moment his eyes locked onto the calligraphy, his breath hitched. The handwriting was highly recognizable, striking a chord of deep, thrilling familiarity in his chest. He instantly knew who had sent this. It was a new manuscript from Mr. Li Xin.
His eyes darted to the prominent title written across the header: “Record of Shi Po’s Wanderings – Part Two”.
The second chapter was finally out.
Shopkeeper Sun let out a sharp gasp, his fingers trembling slightly against the edges of the paper. He quickly yanked open his desk drawer, pulled out a velvet cloth, frantically wiped the lenses of his spectacles, and shoved them back onto his face.
His gaze greedily devoured the ink on the page.
Yes, there was absolutely no mistaking it. This was Mr. Li Xin’s masterful work.
Ever since that fateful day a month ago when he had taken a massive gamble and published the incredibly audacious first part of “Record of Shi Po’s Wanderings”, his heart had not known a single day of peace.
The sheer terror he felt during the printing process, the agonizing anxiety on release day, and the subsequent, explosive market response that completely shattered his wildest expectations—it had all kept his nerves strung tight as a bowstring.
That thin little booklet had sold out almost overnight. In every street, alley, teahouse, and restaurant in Liyue Harbor, people were huddled together, whispering excitedly about the hilarious anecdotes of Lord Jueyun Chili wandering the mortal realm without a single Mora to his name.
The readers’ reactions—a conflicting mix of feeling deeply disrespectful to the Archon yet being entirely unable to stop laughing—perfectly mirrored his own experience when he first read the draft.
The market demand was so ferociously strong that readers had nearly trampled the threshold of his bookstore, constantly demanding to know when Part Two would be released and begging for the true identity of Mr. Li Xin.
They didn’t even need to ask. Shopkeeper Sun himself was dying of curiosity.
This anonymous author possessed a seasoned, elegant prose style. Their grasp of an Archon’s majestic demeanor and bearing was exquisite, yet they possessed the sheer, unadulterated gall to weave such presumptuous, borderline-heretical plots. Truly, an extraordinary talent.
He had yearned for this day and night, both for the lucrative business opportunities the sequels would bring, and out of a desperate, burning curiosity to see what kind of shocking yet somehow perfectly logical stories Mr. Li Xin would concoct next.
True to form, Mr. Li Xin had later delivered two more blasphemous pieces of unofficial history: “Forging Deities” and “Twin Deities”.
While those two articles weren’t direct sequels to the Lord Jueyun Chili saga, their concepts were equally bizarre. The plots were so wildly imaginative that Shopkeeper Sun had broken out in a cold sweat while reading them, genuinely terrified that the Millelith would shut his small bookstore down for distributing such scandalous material.
Instead, he had made an absolute fortune.
Who could have guessed that the refined citizens of Liyue actually loved reading this kind of utter nonsense?
Shopkeeper Sun felt like he was standing on the precipice of a massive, untapped business empire, even if he couldn’t quite articulate the mechanics of it yet. And now, the direct sequel to “Record of Shi Po’s Wanderings”, the very manuscript he had been dreaming about, was resting right in his trembling hands.
The sequel was finally here.
He practically threw himself back into his grand armchair. He adjusted his spectacles one last time, took a deep, steadying breath as if preparing to perform a sacred, solemn ritual, and reverently turned to the first page.