Tingyu, back in the room, spared the sight of Fang Qiu rolling around all over the bed a single glance, then looked away.
One leap and she was up on the cat tree, then into the cat bed, where she fell into a deep sleep.
After rolling around a while longer, Fang Qiu flopped onto the pillow and started plotting what she could write to get back at Thoma.
That was when she ran into a serious problem.
She didn't know Thoma. She had no way of picking a subject based on his past.
Which made things rather difficult…
The longer she thought, the more drowsiness crept up on her.
And with it came sleep, which Fang Qiu surrendered to without the slightest resistance.
Outside the window, the wind drifted lazily.
Cloud Retainer stood at the window, watching the Glaze Lilies sway in the breeze.
She was torn over whether or not to tell anyone that Fang Qiu read girls-love novels.
Come to think of it, what were those two old fossils Moon Carver and Mountain Shaper up to these days?
At that very moment, inside a certain tavern.
"Do you all still recall, from The Legend of Sword and Fairy 1, that character Fang Qiu wrote — the man who spent his whole life seeking swords and forging swords, only to discover at the very end that the supreme realm of the sword lies in formless sword qi? The Wanderer of the Nine Provinces. In truth, if you analyze it carefully, you'll see that the Wanderer of the Nine Provinces is none other than Mu Rong Ziying from The Legend of Sword and Fairy 2…"
On the stage, the storyteller went on without pause.
Below the stage, a good many people listened intently — Mountain Shaper and Moon Carver among them.
"He tells it rather well," said Mountain Shaper, lifting the teacup at his elbow and taking a shallow sip.
"Indeed. Though it's nothing more than background analysis of Sword and Fairy, it makes for surprisingly good listening. Truly worthy of Rex Lapis's idea."
Walking the streets of Liyue earlier that day, they had heard that these storytelling sessions were suggested by that fellow at the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, the one called Zhongli.
So they had picked, then and there, a tavern holding a worldbuilding analysis of Sword and Fairy that very night.
They had expected it to be dull.
Instead, one listen and the whole evening was gone.
Worthy of Rex Lapis indeed.
Meanwhile, in front of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor.
Hu Tao sat crouched on the stone railing, chin propped in both hands, gazing at the distant sky, thinking who knew what.
Under the lamplight, her shadow stretched out long and thin.
A faintly cold breeze brushed her clean features and set the lanterns hanging before the parlor swinging.
The flames wavered.
"Hm?"
Hu Tao tilted her head slightly. There, where the lantern light thinned into darkness, a young man was walking through the night, coming toward the parlor at an unhurried pace.
"Director," Zhongli greeted her.
"And here I thought a customer had come knocking." Hu Tao waved a hand, hopped down from the railing and landed lightly on the ground. "We've had fewer and fewer clients lately. Zhongli, do you have any new ways to advertise?"
"The Director's methods of advertising are already advanced enough," Zhongli said, shaking his head.
"True enough." Hu Tao nodded. "Oh, right, I keep forgetting to ask. Zhongli, what did you think of Weathering With You?"
"It is a book that gives different impressions to readers of different ages, different circumstances, different temperaments. Different people will arrive at different conclusions. Some will feel the protagonist is far too selfish. Others will feel the downpour over Inazuma City was hardly of their making, and that their unwillingness to be sacrificed is entirely understandable."
Zhongli looked toward the osmanthus tree, his gaze distant, as though remembering something.
The world, or the person one holds dear — which truly matters more…
Different people would surely give different answers.
"Then what about you, Zhongli? How do you see it?" Hu Tao asked.
Zhongli did not answer. He simply watched the osmanthus tree in silence as the south wind swept through, rolling northward in a great tide, and the tree rustled along with it.
At that same hour.
Mondstadt.
The cool night breeze drifted across the land of Mondstadt.
Leisurely. Light.
The windmills turned at their own slow pace.
"Hey, hey, hey, don't push — listen to me, just put the Mora on my tab. Fang Qiu's new book goes on sale tomorrow, and once I finish telling it in the tavern I can pay off the debt… come on, let me have one more cup. The Anemo Archon will bless you for it."
Venti's voice rang out inside the Angel's Share.
The next moment, the door of the Angel's Share swung open.
"Come back when you've settled your Mora."
Venti was thrown out of the Angel's Share by the bartender, who dropped that line and shut the tavern doors behind him.
"Not an ounce of human warmth," Venti sighed.
His face was flushed crimson and he was thoroughly drunk. He wove down the street, swaying the whole way, until he arrived at the door of the bookshop beside the fountain.
At his arrival, the white doves scattered into the air.
"And that editor-in-chief… no warmth either. The books arrived days ago, and yet they don't go on public sale until tomorrow…"
Looking at the notice for Weathering With You posted outside the shop, Venti felt thoroughly wretched.
What kind of suffering was this to inflict on the mortal world?
It was bad enough that Fang Qiu hadn't written anything for so long after the Lantern Rite. Now that a Fang Qiu book had finally come, it had missed the release date by a hair, so everyone had to wait all over again.
Swaying, stumbling, he made his way to the bookshop entrance, then leaned against the door and sat down.
He decided he would sleep right here tonight.
He still had sixty Mora on him — money he had painfully refused to spend on drink, saved up as an investment.
The moment the books went on sale tomorrow morning, he would use that Mora to buy three copies of Weathering With You, then sell them at a steep markup to the people queuing behind him.
One book, one hundred Mora.
Surely some wealthy soul would be willing to pay.
Then he could find a tavern, drink, and read Fang Qiu's new book at the same time.
A shame his capital was so thin. He had been trying to borrow money from the Angel's Share bartender for exactly this scheme, which was what made the man tally up his whole tab and throw him out.
If he had enough Mora, he'd buy fifty copies and sell them at triple price to everyone further back in the line.
Forty Mora of profit per book.
Fifty books would come to two thousand Mora.
Two thousand Mora would keep him living well for quite a few days.
A pity…
The Mora in his hand came to sixty and not one coin more.
He fingered the coins, stretched, and sank into a deep sleep.
Just then, Diona passed by and caught sight of the drunkard poet sprawled in the doorway. Her brow furrowed, her fists clenched, her teeth ground together.
This guy again…
One of Fang Qiu's greatest accomplices.
He'd come to line up at the bookshop door a full night early. Again.
Because this man had started holding storytelling sessions at the Angel's Share, one tavern after another had rushed to copy him. Even the Cat's Tail had hired a bard to tell stories on its floor.
Overnight, the number of drinkers exploded, and the number of people reading Fang Qiu's books climbed higher by the day.
There was nothing she could do to stop any of it. She could only watch, helpless, as the patrons in the tavern drank with one hand, petted cats with the other, and listened to the stories.
It left her thoroughly miserable.
All she could do was hope that one day that Fang Qiu person would come to Mondstadt.
Then she'd mix the foulest drink she knew how to make and hand it to Fang Qiu. Nightmare grade.
A proper revenge on the utterly, monstrously guilty Fang Qiu!
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