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ArabicGenshin Impact: A Guide to the Unofficial History of Teyvat — Chapter 48
Chapter 48: Secret Tales of Feiyun (Part 2)
[Chapter 4: The Mask of Habit]
As the years slipped by like water over smooth stones, the identity of “Young Master Xingqiu” bled into every facet of her existence. What had begun as a desperate disguise—a mission to cheat a deadly prophecy—had slowly calcified into a second skin. To the outside world, it was the only skin she had.
She grew frighteningly adept at playing the part.
Her speech, her posture, her measured strides, and even the very architecture of her thoughts were subtly reshaped by the passage of time. Whenever the Feiyun Commerce Guild required it, she could step into the reception hall, greeting minor merchants and foreign delegates on behalf of her father and brother with flawless etiquette and a perfectly calibrated, masculine charm. Among her peers, she effortlessly slipped into the rough-and-tumble dynamic of young men, adopting their perspectives, matching their tone, and casually tossing out harmless jokes without missing a beat.
The slender blade she wielded for self-defense and martial practice grew increasingly lethal in her grip. When she moved, her sword flashing like cold silver rain, she embodied the absolute pinnacle of a young, dashing chivalric hero. Looking at that elegant, sharp figure, who could possibly associate her with a sheltered young lady hidden away in a boudoir?
She even began to secretly draft and publish the martial arts manuscripts she so dearly loved, hiding her true self behind the cheeky pen name “Second Miss.” Watching her printed words circulate through the teahouses of Liyue Harbor, passionately debated by countless avid readers, brought her a strange, intoxicating thrill of achievement.
It felt as though she had finally found a way to let the suppressed, quiet voice of her true self speak to the world.
Habit is a terrifyingly powerful force. The initial awkwardness, the stifling panic of binding her chest, and the constant fear of slipping up were gradually paved over by sheer, instinctive proficiency. Xingqiu no longer needed to constantly chant ‘I am a boy’ in her head; her reactions had become entirely subconscious.
It was only in the absolute quiet of her private chambers that the illusion fractured. When the hot bathwater washed away the day’s sweat, when she stood before the polished bronze mirror to wrap the heavy, restrictive linen binder around her developing chest, or when she secretly pinned a delicate, feminine accessory into her dark locks—only then did the jarring reality strike her. Everything she did so effortlessly was, at its core, a carefully painted mask.
She was used to playing the Second Young Master, but that did not mean she had surrendered to this fate. The desperate yearning for a normal life, the aching desire to walk beneath the sun with her true face, remained buried deep within her chest like dormant seeds. They were suppressed, but they were not dead.
Instead, those feelings bled into the ink of her novels, transforming into the fierce, unbound characters who shattered their shackles to pursue ultimate freedom.
Xingqiu knew the clock was ticking. She was drawing ever closer to her sixteenth birthday—the exact age the wandering master had warned them about.
The turning point of her fate was rushing toward her. Would it bring a devastating calamity? Or would the dark clouds finally part to reveal the bright moon? The future remained entirely shrouded in mist.
But regardless of what tomorrow held, in this fleeting moment, she was the Second Young Master of the Feiyun Commerce Guild. She was “Brother Xingqiu” to her closest friends, and the famously elusive wuxia author “Second Miss” to the literary circles of Liyue.
These identities, a tangled web of absolute truth and fabricated fiction, formed the entirety of her current life.
[Chapter 5: Maintaining the Status Quo]
Her sixteenth birthday arrived without a sound.
There was no grand banquet, no overflowing wine, and no noisy courtyard packed with well-wishing guests. Deep within the heavily guarded inner residence of the Feiyun Commerce Guild, only her immediate family and two fiercely loyal attendants stood as silent witnesses. This was the moment they had poured over a decade of hope and terror into.
Xingqiu stood in the center of the room, draped in a stunning, flowing dress woven with complex cloud patterns—a garment her mother had secretly commissioned months in advance. Her dark hair, usually pinned up, cascaded down her back like a silken waterfall. Though her face was entirely devoid of makeup, she possessed a pure, devastating beauty that commanded the room.
The girl reflected in the bronze mirror shared the exact same features as the famous Young Master, but the deliberate, sharp heroic edge had vanished. In its place, a long-suppressed softness and vibrant, feminine vitality bloomed naturally into the open air.
Her mother’s eyes brimmed with heavy tears, reflecting a deep relief that her daughter had survived to see this day, mingled with the overwhelming emotion of seeing her true beauty finally unveiled. Her father stood nearby, stroking his long beard, his face a complex map of exhaled tension and lingering anxiety. Her elder brother watched from the sidelines, his gaze soft and protective.
Curls of sweet smoke drifted lazily from the brass incense burner, but the atmosphere in the hall felt heavy, almost stagnant. The promised “calamity” from the ancient prophecy showed absolutely no signs of manifesting. Outside the paper windows, there was only the gentle, rhythmic pitter-patter of a fine evening rain. It was so peaceful it made their skin crawl.
“So… is it over?” her mother whispered, her voice trembling violently as she reached out to grip Xingqiu’s delicate hands.
Her father remained silent for a long moment, his eyes scanning the quiet courtyard before he slowly exhaled. “The master explicitly stated she only needed to live as a male until her sixteenth year to blind the eyes of fate. The hour has passed. Qiu’er is safe and sound. The disaster… it must have been averted.”
It should have been a moment of euphoric celebration. It was supposed to be her liberation, the triumphant return to the life she was always meant to live.
Yet, as Xingqiu stared at the beautiful stranger in the mirror, her heart hammered against her ribs in a frantic, chaotic rhythm. She felt a suffocating mixture of expectation, deep apprehension, and a deep, terrifying confusion she hadn’t anticipated.
Before the heavy silence could be broken by tears of joy, an abrupt, chaotic commotion erupted from the guild’s outer courtyard. Heavy boots stomped against the stone paths. The elderly head butler practically threw himself into the inner hall, his face pale as he rushed to whisper frantically into the guild master’s ear.
Her father’s expression instantly darkened into a thunderous scowl.
“Envoys from the Fatui?” he hissed, his hands clenching into fists. “At an hour like this? They claim they heard it was the Second Young Master’s birthday and came specifically to offer their ‘congratulations’?”
Although Liyue Harbor operated strictly under the iron laws of the Qixing, the Snezhnayan Fatui possessed a pervasive, venomous influence. Their “diplomatic” tactics were notoriously aggressive, always probing for weakness.
The Feiyun Commerce Guild, with its vast wealth and monopoly on the silk trade, was a prime target. Any unusual movement tonight would be seized upon as a pretext for extortion or blackmail. If the devastating scandal that the famous Second Young Master was actually a woman leaked out, the resulting political and social fallout would be catastrophic. It would invite endless trouble for the guild, and place a massive target on Xingqiu’s back.
Xingqiu exchanged a single, loaded glance with her family. She saw the raw, naked panic bleeding into their eyes.
Without a fraction of a second’s hesitation, Xingqiu inhaled sharply and turned to her maid. “Change my clothes.”
“Qiu’er?!” Her mother gasped, her eyes widening in shock.
“Father. Mother.” Xingqiu’s voice dropped, instantly shifting back into the clear, measured, and distinctly masculine tone of the Young Master. Her gaze hardened into polished steel. “Right now, Liyue Harbor needs Young Master Xingqiu, not the hidden Second Miss of the Feiyun Guild. The Fatui are circling like vultures in the dark. We cannot hand them a weapon.”
But as she spoke the words, a startling realization crashed over her. She had long since grown addicted to the life this disguise afforded her.
She loved the absolute freedom of standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Chongyun, calling him brother as they passionately debated the intricacies of the martial path. She loved the thrill of wandering the city unchaperoned, reading whatever she pleased, and writing her heart out under the guise of an eccentric noble son. She was deeply, irreversibly attached to the respect she had carved out with her own two hands.
If she stripped away the disguise and returned to being a girl tonight, how could she ever look into Chongyun’s earnest, confused eyes again? How could she possibly explain a deception that had spanned over a decade? Would the entire world she had built, the respect she commanded as a swordsman, instantly crumble into dust?
The gilded cage of a sheltered young lady felt entirely alien to her now. It sounded like a tragic backstory from one of her own novels.
The heavy linen binder was pulled taut once more, ruthlessly flattening the soft curves of her chest. Her long hair was swiftly gathered and pinned into its familiar, neat style. The flowing silk dress was discarded into the shadows, replaced by the crisp, structured layers of her male attire.
When she looked back into the mirror, the elegant, dashing Second Young Master had returned. But this time, deep within his amber eyes, there was a quiet, knowing acceptance. This was no longer a curse forced upon her by fate. It was her own choice.
She strode confidently into the front hall, greeting the sneering Fatui envoys with such flawless poise and sharp, polite deflection that the brief moment of fluttering silk in the inner chambers felt like nothing more than a fever dream.
After the frustrated Snezhnayans were finally escorted off the premises, her father turned to her. His eyes were heavy with a crushing mixture of pride and deep guilt. “Qiu’er… I have wronged you.”
Xingqiu merely shook her head, a complex, slightly wistful smile touching the corners of her lips. “Father, please don’t say that. My decision tonight… it wasn’t entirely for the sake of the guild.”
She walked slowly to the open window, resting her hands on the wooden sill as she watched the fine rain finally taper off into a cool mist.
“The things the Second Young Master can achieve in this world are far greater, and far freer, than anything permitted to the Second Miss,” Xingqiu murmured softly, speaking as much to the night air as to her family. “This freedom… I am simply not ready to surrender it.”
The prophesied calamity had passed, but the mold of her life had already set.
She chose to walk this path. She would keep the mask she had grown to love, wielding her sword and her pen under the proud name of Young Master Xingqiu.
Yet, whenever her gaze drifted toward the empty training grounds in the courtyard, her chest would tighten. She would think of that hopelessly earnest, simple-minded young exorcist—the boy who would spend an entire day buried in ancient texts, agonizing over his technique just because she casually teased that his sword forms looked “a bit stiff.” Whenever Chongyun’s face crossed her mind, a sharp, lingering pang of guilt would twist deep in her heart.
But maintaining the status quo was the only way forward.
The Second Young Master of the Feiyun Commerce Guild would remain the Second Young Master.
The secret would stay buried in the dark, transformed from a passive, terrifying burden into an active, deliberate choice.
(Author’s Note: The above story is a strictly fictional, unofficial adaptation and has absolutely nothing to do with any real people or existing commerce guilds! It is purely for entertainment purposes only! Please, I beg of you, do not take this as historical fact or spread rumors!)
(The End)