Genshin Impact: A Guide to the Unofficial History of Teyvat — Chapter 78

Chapter 78: There Is Something I Think You Need to See

High above the clouds, within the opulent confines of the Jade Chamber.

Ningguang sat behind her expansive desk, having just finished listening to Yelan’s detailed report on the recent, highly suspicious movements of Snezhnayan merchant vessels. She gently tapped a manicured fingernail against the tabletop carved from pristine jade, the crisp, rhythmic sound echoing softly in the quiet office as she fell into a brief contemplation.

A moment later, she raised her crimson eyes, her gaze carrying the weight of someone who saw through the complex affairs of the mortal world. A faint, elegant smile graced her lips.

“Flawless work. The network’s penetration into their ranks has exceeded my initial projections. Proceed with the second phase of our arrangement.”

“Consider it done.” Yelan gave a curt nod, her hands moving with practiced efficiency as she gathered the scattered intelligence scrolls from the desk. She was a woman of decisive action, already shifting her weight to stand and depart the moment her professional obligations were concluded.

However, just as she turned toward the ornate wooden doors, her footsteps paused. It was a subtle hesitation, as if she had suddenly recalled some trivial yet highly amusing anecdote. She glanced back over her shoulder, a faint, inscrutable expression dancing across her features—a dangerous blend of playfulness and absolute solemnity.

“By the way, Ningguang.” Yelan’s voice lost its crisp professional edge, softening into something far more casual. Reaching into the discreet pouch secured at her waist, she withdrew a thin, rather cheaply bound booklet. She tossed it lightly, letting it slide across the smooth jade surface until it came to a rest directly in front of the Tianquan.

“There is something I think you need to see.”

Ningguang lowered her gaze to the garish cover of the booklet. Bold, dramatic characters declared the title: Wanmin Restaurant Secret History: Is Guoba the True God of Cookery? Authored by: Li Xin.

Her elegant brow arched in a silent question. This was a street-side penny dreadful. It was the sort of idle, unofficial folk gossip that usually had zero chance of ever entering the peripheral vision of the Tianquan of the Liyue Qixing, let alone landing on her desk.

“Li Xin?” Ningguang repeated the unfamiliar pen name, her fingertips lightly brushing the coarse edge of the paper. “An unknown author, writing an unofficial history about Wanmin Restaurant and… Guoba?”

Her tone carried a trace of genuine curiosity, though it was heavily layered with the natural prudence of a ruler. She knew Yelan better than anyone; the intelligence chief would never waste her time with idle leisure reading without a very specific, calculated reason.

Yelan seemed to read the silent inquiry in her eyes. She crossed her arms and leaned her hip against the edge of the heavy desk, her tone casual yet thick with implication. “This Li Xin—whether they are a mister or a lady—has become quite the sensation down in Liyue Harbor recently. Their chosen themes are wildly imaginative. They possess a rather terrifying talent for researching… secret anecdotes regarding our local Adepti and the ancient gods.”

She placed a deliberate, heavy emphasis on the words ‘researching’and’secret anecdotes’ before continuing. “This piece on Guoba being the God of Cookery is merely one of their many circulating works. Speaking purely from the perspective of the Tianquan’s interests, I highly suggest you familiarize yourself with this author’s creative style. And their growing influence.”

Ningguang’s brilliant mind immediately isolated the critical variables in Yelan’s statement. An anonymous author specializing in the hidden histories of Adepti and gods. A rapidly spreading public influence. And most crucially, a level of accuracy that had triggered the radar of Liyue’s most elusive spymaster.

This was no longer simple street gossip. It was a spark that could easily ignite a firestorm of public opinion. Yet, if the threat were truly critical, Yelan would not be presenting it with such a relaxed, amused posture.

Thoroughly intrigued, Ningguang leaned back in her plush chair and elegantly picked up the cheap booklet.

“Oh? A leisure book that you would personally hand-deliver to my desk must possess some truly unique qualities.”

She flipped open the cover, her sharp eyes scanning the opening lines. Initially, her expression held the mild amusement of a scholar reading a child’s fairy tale. But as she turned the pages, that amusement began to fracture. She read the detailed connections drawn between the ancient legend of Marchosias, the God of the Stove, and the seemingly mundane, miraculous quirks of the bear companion known as Guoba. When she reached the final pages—where the author boldly used a passing phrase from Rex Lapis about an ‘old friend’ to cement the entire hypothesis—the lazy elegance vanished entirely from Ningguang’s face.

It was replaced by a look of absolute, piercing focus.

Her reading speed slowed to a crawl. Occasionally, she stopped entirely, her thumb gently rubbing against a specific line of ink as her mind raced through the implications.

For a long time, the only sounds in the vast office were the soft rustling of turning pages and the faint, rhythmic crackle of the incense burning in the corner bronze censer.

Finally, she closed the booklet. She set it down on the jade desk with deliberate care, lacing her fingers together as she looked up at Yelan. The Tianquan’s eyes were sharp enough to cut glass.

“The narrative tone is light and comedic, but the core foundation… is not entirely groundless. It masterfully grafts wild folk legends, highly classified historical fragments, and current public figures together. It blurs the line between truth and falsehood so perfectly that the reader cannot tell where reality ends and illusion begins. But most…”

Ningguang unclasped her hands, tapping a single finger against the cover. “It touches upon ancient contracts and divine sacrifices that even our most restricted official records are vague about. The hypotheses presented here regarding the God of the Stove, and Rex Lapis’s personal attitude toward the matter, are incredibly bold. This Li Xin is not a simple civilian.”

Yelan nodded, entirely unsurprised by the Tianquan’s rapid and accurate assessment. “Exactly my thoughts. I have already run a preliminary trace. The author’s true identity is buried deep, hidden with professional paranoia. The public acceptance of the work is staggering. It is precisely this kind of seemingly harmless, entertaining creation that often hides the most unexpected dangers.”

Ningguang stood from her chair. The heavy silk of her dress whispered against the floor as she paced toward the expansive windows, looking down at the stunning, sprawling view of Liyue Harbor far below.

The city was bathed in the warm, golden light of the afternoon, bustling with the vibrant, chaotic energy of the mortal world. The story contained within that cheap little booklet was, in essence, a direct interpretation of the very origins of that mortal vitality.

“After Rex Lapis passed away… Liyue entered the era of human rule.” Ningguang’s voice was calm, yet it carried an obvious, quiet power. “But we all know the truth. The protection of the Adepti has not vanished, and the crushing weight of our history still anchors this land. How we manage the delicate relationship with the Adepti, and how the public interprets our past, are subjects the Qixing must handle with absolute caution.”

She turned back toward the room, her gaze locking onto the booklet once more. “If works of this nature circulate too widely, they could trigger massive waves of speculation. It could fundamentally alter the public’s perception of the Adepti. Yet, looking at it from another angle… it also reflects the sheer vitality and inclusiveness of Liyue’s culture. It shows a certain courage among our people to re-examine and imagine their own traditions.”

Yelan let out a low, breathy chuckle. “So, what is your verdict?”

Ningguang walked back to the desk and picked up the booklet. Her thumb brushed thoughtfully over the two characters that made up the name ‘Li Xin’. A deep depth flashed in her crimson eyes.

“We observe for now,” she decided, her tone final. “There is no need to deploy resources to suppress it. Doing so would only validate the claims and draw more attention. However, we will keep a very close eye on this author’s movements. I am genuinely curious to see what kind of fascinating history this Li Xin will ‘research’ next. Perhaps they will provide us with a perspective on Liyue that we have been too blind to see.”

She opened a secure, heavy drawer built into the side of her desk—a space reserved strictly for highly sensitive documents requiring the Tianquan’s personal attention—and placed the booklet inside.

Yelan smiled knowingly. She offered no further argument, turning her back to the desk as she prepared to blend into the shadows of the corridor.

Just before she crossed the threshold, she paused, tossing one final sentence over her shoulder.

“For the record, the intelligence network has secured copies of Li Xin’s other works. And they are… significantly more entertaining than the one currently sitting in your drawer.”

Yelan’s voice dripped with amusement, casting out a perfectly baited hook. “If you ever find yourself with some free time, you might want to track them down. You might gain a rather… enlightening understanding of our world.”

Before Ningguang could formulate a response, Yelan stepped forward. Her figure dissolved like a ghost into the dim shadows of the hallway, leaving behind nothing but the faint, lingering scent of her signature perfume.