Genshin Impact: A Guide to the Unofficial History of Teyvat — Chapter 87

Chapter 87: Even Seemingly Ordinary Characters Will Cross Paths with Her

The heavy stone pressing against Lovia’s chest finally crumbled away. After finalizing her grand strategy of using multiple pen names to throw off any potential investigators, she felt light enough to float. She carefully rewrote her reply to the bookstore owner, adding a subtle line at the very end: “To avoid unnecessary trouble, I may submit future manuscripts under different aliases. I hope you will continue to appraise them with your usual discerning eye.” She trusted the boss’s sharp business acumen; he would read between the lines perfectly.

With that crisis averted, she let out a long, luxurious sigh, stretching her arms high above her head. Beneath her clothes, her hidden wings fluttered slightly, and her sensitive antennae uncoiled in the quiet safety of her room. Outside her small window, the bustling Liyue Harbor had surrendered to the night. The dark waters reflected the scattered, warm glow of street lamps, while the distant docks twinkled with the faint fires of returning fishing boats.

Over the next few days, Lovia stuck strictly to her survival plan. She drafted incredibly safe, thoroughly mundane story outlines while keeping her ears pricked for any dangerous whispers in the harbor streets. She paid special attention to any gossip surrounding the elusive author, Mr. Li Xin.

To her immense relief, the streets were mostly quiet. Aside from a few enthusiastic readers loitering around the bookshop loudly demanding Li Xin’s next masterpiece, there were no alarming rumors. That terrifyingly extraordinary visitor from before seemed to have vanished into the shadows, making no further moves.

She allowed herself a small sigh of relief, but the lingering paranoia only hardened her resolve. She absolutely had to upgrade her clandestine manuscript submission process.

Before she could orchestrate any grand espionage, however, she needed the basics. Her paper and ink supplies were running dangerously low.

The weather was exceptionally pleasant that morning. Golden sunlight pierced through the scattered clouds, spilling a comfortable warmth over the stone-paved streets of Liyue Harbor. As was her strict custom, Lovia draped herself in her oversized, heavy hooded cloak. She carefully checked the mirror, ensuring her conspicuous antennae, folded wings, and tail were completely swallowed by the thick fabric. Only when she was certain she looked like a perfectly ordinary, slightly eccentric citizen did she step out of her secluded shack.

Her destination was the familiar stationery shop where she had previously bumped into Xingqiu and Chongyun. The quality of their paper was excellent, the brushes were sturdy, and most, the prices did not make her wallet weep.

She arrived at the storefront with practiced ease and pushed the wooden door open. A crisp ding-ling echoed through the quiet space, startling her slightly. The door had been propped open during her last visit. The shopkeeper was apparently busy rummaging through inventory in the back room and did not immediately emerge to greet her.

Lovia actually preferred the solitude. It gave her a chance to properly browse. Last time, she had been a bundle of nerves, rushing in and out without truly taking in the inventory. Today, as her gaze swept across the neatly arranged shelves, her eyes suddenly widened in sheer delight.

Nestled beside the traditional displays of bamboo brushes and heavy inkstones sat a pristine glass counter. The items resting inside made her otaku heart skip a frantic beat.

They were writing instruments. They possessed an elegant, somewhat antique design, but they were undeniably not brushes. She pressed her hands against the glass, peering closer. The sleek barrels and metallic nibs looked exactly like the fountain pens from her original world.

‘Finally! I have truly had enough of those miserable brushes!’ Lovia cheered internally, practically doing a victory dance in her mind.

She had practiced traditional brush calligraphy until her fingers cramped, desperate to blend into Teyvat’s culture. While she could now manage a passably neat script, the process was agonizingly slow and drained her mental energy. For an author who needed to chain herself to a desk for hours on end, the brush was the ultimate enemy of productivity. Every completed manuscript left her wrists stiff, her fingers aching, and even the base of her wings numb from the sheer physical tension.

Swallowing her excitement, she pointed a trembling finger at a particularly sleek pen in the display.

“Shopkeeper,” she called out as the man finally emerged from the back room, dusting off his hands. “This item here… how much is it?”

The shopkeeper followed her gaze and smiled warmly. “Ah, you have a very discerning eye, miss. That is a liquid pen. It uses a specialized ink reservoir, meaning you do not need to constantly dip it like a traditional brush. A single fill lasts for quite a long time, making it incredibly convenient for scholars. It is a bit more expensive than a standard brush, and the specialized ink must be purchased separately.”

‘So they call it a liquid pen here?’Lovia marveled.’It looks and functions exactly like a fountain pen! Teyvat really does have parallel technological developments, just hidden under different names.’

She did not hesitate for a single second. She slapped her Mora onto the counter. “Please give me two of them, and two bottles of the matching ink.”

To secure her future creative empire and liberate her poor wrists from the tyranny of calligraphy, this investment was worth every single coin. She carefully tucked the precious tools into her pouch, feeling as though the path to her literary dominance had just been illuminated by a blinding spotlight.

With her new weapons secured, Lovia left the shop with a noticeable bounce in her step. However, the winding streets and bustling alleys of Liyue Harbor were always a stage for unexpected encounters.

Just as she turned a familiar corner, a bright, crisp voice shattered her peaceful solitude.

“Sister Lovia!”

Lovia froze, turning toward the sound. Jogging happily toward her was Yaoyao, her hair tied up in her signature twin buns, a small bamboo basket bouncing against her back. Beside the energetic girl trotted a much smaller, quieter figure.

It was a petite child dressed in purple Taoist robes, a yellow talisman plastered squarely on her forehead, her large magenta eyes staring blankly ahead.

“Ah, it is Yaoyao,” Lovia replied, her voice muffled but warm beneath the heavy shadow of her hood.

“Are you out buying things too, big sister?” Yaoyao asked, tilting her head up, her eyes sparkling with pure, unadulterated sunshine.

“Yes, just picking up some paper and pens,” Lovia answered softly, her hands instinctively reaching up to pull her hood down a fraction of an inch further.

Her gaze naturally drifted toward Qiqi. The little zombie was looking back at her, though her eyes held no real emotion. She was simply gazing. To Qiqi, the heavily cloaked figure standing before them was no different from a lamppost or a passing stray cat. The undead girl just stood there in absolute silence, her tiny hands fiercely clutching a freshly purchased glass bottle. Her absolute favorite beverage: coconut milk.

“Sister Lovia, this is Qiqi,” Yaoyao introduced enthusiastically, gesturing to her quiet companion. “Qiqi and I just finished running a quick errand for Mr. Baizhu and bought some things. Qiqi, this is Sister Lovia. She is my friend.”

Qiqi blinked slowly. She looked at Yaoyao, then slowly turned her head back to Lovia.

“Oh…” Qiqi dragged out the syllable, her voice flat and airy. “Yaoyao’s… friend. Qiqi… will remember.”

Despite the promise, her vacant expression strongly suggested the memory would evaporate into the wind within the next five minutes. Lovia did not mind in the slightest; she was well aware of the little zombie’s tragic memory condition.

“Hello, Qiqi,” Lovia greeted her with a gentle, patient tone. Whenever she looked at this tiny herb-gathering child who had endured such immense suffering only to be trapped in an undead state, a deep wave of pity washed over her.

“Hel… lo,” Qiqi responded with practiced politeness. Almost immediately, her attention drifted back down to the cold bottle in her hands. “Must… write down… coconut milk… or else… will forget…” she muttered to herself.

Yaoyao offered Lovia a helpless but incredibly fond smile. “That is just how Qiqi is. Please do not mind her, Sister Lovia.”

“It is perfectly fine, I do not mind at all,” Lovia said, shaking her head.

Looking at the two girls standing side by side—one radiating the vibrant, boundless energy of the morning sun, the other as quiet and lonely as the midnight moon—Lovia felt a strange, tender ripple of emotion in her chest.

“Sister, are the paper and pens you bought heavy?” Yaoyao suddenly asked, her helpful nature taking over. “Do you need Qiqi and me to help you carry them back home?”

“No need, but thank you both,” Lovia declined with a soft laugh. She might be physically weak, but a couple of pens and ink bottles were hardly a burden. “I did not buy much, so I can manage it easily. You and Qiqi should hurry back to your duties. You do not want to keep Mr. Baizhu waiting.”

“Alright then.” Yaoyao looked a tiny bit disappointed that she could not be of service, but she nodded obediently. “Take good care of yourself, big sister! The weather has been shifting a lot lately, so remember to stay warm. Oh, wait! I have some freshly picked Qingxin right here. They are wonderful for calming the nerves when steeped in hot tea. Here, I will give them to you!”

Before Lovia could even formulate a polite refusal, Yaoyao reached into her bamboo basket, pulled out a handful of white Qingxin flowers still glistening with morning dew, and forcefully pressed them into Lovia’s hands.

Feeling the cool moisture of the petals and the absolute purity of Yaoyao’s kindness, Lovia felt a genuine warmth spread through her chest.

“Thank you, Yaoyao.”

“You are very welcome! We will be going now! Goodbye, Sister Lovia!” Yaoyao waved enthusiastically, grabbed the hand of Qiqi—who was still softly chanting about coconut milk—and skipped away down the street.

Lovia stood frozen on the cobblestones, watching the retreating backs of the two little girls until they disappeared into the crowd. She looked down at the pristine Qingxin flowers resting in her palms, carefully tucked them into her pouch, and immediately set off toward her secluded home without lingering any further.

The chance encounter had been incredibly heartwarming, but it also served as a sharp bucket of cold water to her paranoia. If she could casually bump into seemingly ordinary characters like Yaoyao and Qiqi while just buying pens, the chances of crossing paths with the sharp-nosed intelligence officers of Liyue were terrifyingly high.

‘I am looking directly at you, Miss Yelan,’ Lovia thought, mentally pointing an accusing finger at the phantom of the terrifying hydro archer.

“I absolutely must perfect my new manuscript submission route as soon as possible,” Lovia muttered to herself as she finally locked the door to her tiny shack.

She threw off her heavy cloak, sighing in relief as her wings snapped open to stretch. She sat at her desk, organizing her newly purchased liquid pens and ink, before unrolling a detailed map of Liyue Harbor. Her eyes darted across the parchment, tracing the complex maze of warehouses, blind alleys, and freight yards scattered across the dock area. She needed dead drops. She needed secure routes.

“But regarding the next work…” She picked up her shiny new liquid pen, twirling it between her fingers as a sly, distinctly otaku smile crept onto her lips. “Let’s pivot to a sweet romance. For example… ‘Morax, This Body Belongs to You’… Hmm, yes, the dramatic tension in that title alone is exquisite.”

She paused, the smile faltering. “Wait. The protagonist would be our Old Man Zhong again. No, absolutely not. Forget it for now. I need to lie low. Maybe I should write some dry historical fiction instead?”

She tapped the pen against her chin. “As for the sequel to ‘Secret Tales of Feiyun’… I already have the outline drafted, but… let’s scrap it. Xingqiu is genuinely such a good kid. It feels deeply wrong to keep fabricating such scandalous rumors about him. I already felt like dying of embarrassment the last time I saw him…”

Her gaze drifted to the fresh Qingxin flowers resting gently on the corner of her desk.

“Maybe…” she mused softly, a gentle smile returning to her face. “Maybe I will take a break from the scandalous rumors. For sweet kids like Yaoyao and Qiqi, perhaps I should write some wholesome little fairy tales just for them.”