The setting sun melted into gold; the evening clouds fused like matched jade.
It was dusk.
An idle wind brushed across Dihua Marsh, raising ripple after ripple on the water.
In the reed thickets, the reeds hung heavy with snow.
Then the wind picked up a little.
Snow slid rustling off the reeds and dropped into the water, startling the fish below into darting away.
Wangshu Inn stood at the very center of Dihua Marsh, the most important traffic hub in all of Liyue.
Caravans from every corner of the region converged here.
At that moment.
The chef, Smiley Yanxiao, was hard at work in the kitchen. On the table behind him sat a quiet copy of Your Lie in April.
Downstairs, a diner picked up a Golden Shrimp Ball and put it in his mouth.
"Hmm… something's off about the flavor…"
"You're right, there's a kind of bitterness to it…"
"They say a chef's mood affects how his dishes turn out. Maybe that's it."
"Could be."
The guests debated it among themselves, and the innkeeper, Verr Goldet, listening from one side, found the theory rather convincing.
Ever since Yanxiao had read Fang Qiu's books, everything he cooked carried a faint bitterness.
At first she had assumed something was wrong with his procedure, or that the fool had been dripping tears into the ingredients after finishing one of Fang Qiu's novels.
So she supervised the entire cooking process herself.
The result: Yanxiao's technique was flawless from start to finish, not a single misstep, and yet what came out of the pan still carried that trace of bitterness.
It seemed she would have to strictly forbid Yanxiao from reading Fang Qiu's books on workdays.
On the water across from Wangshu Inn, Jiangxue sat on a boulder, the snow around him swept off to one side.
He fished with one hand and read Fang Qiu's The Legend of Sword and Fairy 2 with the other. When he reached the part where Qin Ji abandoned her husband in pursuit of the sword, only to return and find him already parted from her by the gulf between life and death, Jiangxue looked out at the dying sun on the horizon and let out a long sigh.
He raised his head toward the roof of Wangshu Inn.
Up in the shade of the trees on the inn's rooftop, Xiao drew his gaze back from the caravan below and turned to look at the neat stack of books the innkeeper had arranged on the top-floor platform.
Those books were every work Fang Qiu had published to date.
A gust of wind passed, lifting the hair at his temples.
The leaves whispered around him.
Meanwhile, in Liyue Harbor.
A light breeze drew thin threads of cooking smoke upward and wandered through the streets and alleys of Liyue Harbor.
On the road outside the picture studio.
"The evening light is beautiful, isn't it?"
Fang Qiu, a candied haw skewer in hand, walked shoulder to shoulder with Hu Tao along the bluestone street. She watched the dusk sinking at the far edge of the sky and said it with a soft laugh.
"It really is. So beautiful."
Hu Tao followed Fang Qiu's gaze — and in her own field of vision, Fang Qiu's delicate, fair profile stood side by side with the sunset.
"Oh, right, Hu Tao, that film we just watched — what did you think of it?"
Fang Qiu looked away from the sky, stuck out the tip of her tongue to lick her candied haws, and turned to Hu Tao with the question.
She had originally planned to take Cloud Retainer out this morning for a stroll around Liyue Harbor, but the adeptus had been in a hurry to get back to Jueyun Karst and left right after breakfast.
Shenhe had work as well.
Which left the whole big courtyard house to her and Tingyu — one girl and one cat.
And Tingyu, that creature, knew nothing but sprawling in her cat bed and sleeping. The cat teaser Fang Qiu had personally engineered had zero effect on her; all it earned was one look of pure disdain.
Which made Fang Qiu start to suspect her cat might be registered as a Jueyun Karst resident too.
At the same time, she wished Tingyu would hurry up and turn into a catgirl, so she could make her help write books.
Failing that, Tingyu could write fanfiction of her, and Fang Qiu could submit it to the publishing house for sale.
Another tidy stream of income.
Unfortunately, Tingyu showed no signs of awakening for the time being.
So, bored out of her mind, she'd decided to go out and find Hu Tao to play with.
When she got to Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, she found Hu Tao mid-pitch, enthusiastically selling a client on one of the parlor's package deals.
Apparently they'd launched some coffin modeled after the Jade Chamber — the full luxury experience.
Her tongue spun flowers, and the poor client was left blinking in a daze. In the end he turned down the flashy Jade Chamber coffin and picked an ordinary one.
Once Hu Tao finished up her work, Fang Qiu stepped forward and asked her to come out.
Hu Tao agreed at once, of course.
So they wandered Liyue Harbor for a long while, and their last stop was, naturally, the picture studio.
Together they watched films shot by other merchants.
She had to admit these merchants had real ability, and the quality of their films was startlingly good.
But set beside the output of Miss Ningguang's studio, they still fell a little short.
Even so, quality at that level was more than enough to claim a slice of the market.
Speaking of which.
She really ought to sit down with Miss Ningguang again soon and talk about the film business.
"Rationally speaking, it wasn't bad."
Just as Fang Qiu's thoughts drifted off, Hu Tao's smiling answer hauled her back.
"Rationally speaking?"
Fang Qiu blinked.
"That's something Zhongli's always saying," Hu Tao said with a wave of her hand.
"I see."
Fang Qiu nodded.
Mr. Zhongli, the consultant of Wangsheng Funeral Parlor.
A mysterious figure she still hadn't met.
Come to think of it, she had no idea what sort of person this Mr. Zhongli actually was.
Erudite, widely traveled, mature and steady — that was what she kept hearing from everyone else.
Even Yun Jin said so.
And yet, from Hu Tao, she also kept hearing about his rather less reliable exploits.
Like inviting Xinyan to play Rock 'n' Roll outside the door of Wangsheng Funeral Parlor.
The concept was roughly equivalent to raving on a grave back in her past life, belting out a chart-topping party anthem.
It was only marginally more sensible than dragging the deceased out of the coffin and street-dancing with them as your partner.
Beyond that, she'd also heard that Mr. Zhongli disliked carrying money when he went out.
He regularly had the bills sent to Wangsheng Funeral Parlor and Northland Bank.
According to the Traveler, she and Paimon had suffered from it too. The story went that Zhongli once treated them to a meal at Xinyue Kiosk, and Paimon ordered a whole mountain of expensive dishes.
And then Zhongli turned out to have left his wallet behind.
Luckily, a man named Tartaglia happened to be dining at Xinyue Kiosk as well and covered the Mora for them — otherwise the two of them would have been cleaned out and left on the street.
All of which only puzzled her more.
Just what kind of person was this Mr. Zhongli…
Still, they'd meet one day. No need to rush.
"Oh, right, Fang Qiu, how's your new book coming along?" Hu Tao asked.
"I'm still picking a subject." Fang Qiu shook her head. "I don't know what kind of theme to write about. Do you have any suggestions, Hu Tao?"
She still hadn't decided which book to use for her revenge on that rascal Thoma.
"My suggestion, obviously, is to write about passing on to the next life," Hu Tao said, eyes crinkling with a grin.
"Settling the wishes you held in life, then moving on?" Fang Qiu asked.
"A human life is long if you call it long and short if you call it short. Not everyone can look at life and death so freely. As long as we live in this world, regrets and unfinished business are unavoidable."
Hu Tao watched the sun sinking toward the horizon in the distance, her lovely face washed orange by the last of its light.
"That's true."
Fang Qiu nodded.
She agreed with that completely.
One of the great regrets of her past life was never getting to see her own novel go on sale…
"And here at Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, besides funerals and memorial rites, we sometimes handle matters like helping the departed settle their last wishes," Hu Tao said. "You know Old Meng, right?"
"Mm, I know him."
Fang Qiu nodded.
She'd met him twice.
So Hu Tao told her the whole story of Old Meng and Boss Wolf.
"So that's what happened."
Fang Qiu nodded, thoughtful.
"Well? Any inspiration?" Hu Tao asked expectantly.
"I do have some, actually." Fang Qiu nodded. "Then let's make the new book about settling the unfinished business of a past life and passing on through the cycle of rebirth."
"Really? You mean it?"
Hu Tao's eyes went wide. She threw both arms around Fang Qiu's arm, her plum-blossom pupils brimming with excitement and laughter.
"I mean it."
Fang Qiu said it with a soft laugh.
"Then I'm going to be looking forward to your new book," Hu Tao said, beaming.
"Mm. I'll do my best."
Fang Qiu nodded, then lifted her head toward the southeast.
The sun's last light couldn't reach that far southeastern sky; there, the pale curtain of night and its river of stars was already rising.
Come to think of it, Inazuma lay in that direction, didn't it?
She wondered whether they'd received her letters yet.
And what sort of face Thoma would make when he read her reply.
It was bound to be entertaining.
Fang Qiu was very much looking forward to it.
She and Hu Tao strolled a while longer along the newly built street in front of the picture studio, then made their way toward Wanmin Restaurant.
It was dusk now.
The streets of Liyue Harbor were lively, the crowds flowing past without a break.
Vendors along the roadside hawked their wares at full volume, drawing plenty of passersby to a stop.
As they walked past a teahouse, Fang Qiu's attention was caught by a waiter's greeting.
"Chang the Ninth, come in and sit a while! We've just brought in a new batch of tea — even that Mr. Zhongli from Wangsheng Funeral Parlor said it was good after he tried it."
Fang Qiu glanced over.
The man the waiter was greeting was a middle-aged fellow in ordinary Liyue clothing.
"Fang Qiu, what's wrong?"
Seeing Fang Qiu stop walking, Hu Tao asked.
"It's nothing. I just heard a name that sounded familiar."
Fang Qiu gave a small shake of her head.
Chang the Ninth.
As she recalled, the author of The Senior Disciple of the Guhua Clan also went by Chang the Ninth — and he was a Liyue author, too.
The Senior Disciple of the Guhua Clan sold extremely well in Inazuma. At a light novel competition held there some time ago under the name "This Novel Is Amazing!", it had taken second place, finishing behind only Xingqiu's A Legend of Sword.
She'd bought a copy herself a while back. It seemed decent enough.
Could that middle-aged man be the author of The Senior Disciple of the Guhua Clan?
Hmm…
No, that couldn't be right.
Who writes books under their real name?
Fang Qiu smiled at the thought — and then, with the smile barely curving her lips, it hit her that she wrote under her real name too…
Then again, she wrote under her real name because her predecessor had been an idiot…
So why did Chang the Ninth write under his real name?
Surely not for the same reason?
She didn't dwell on the question, though, and followed Hu Tao the rest of the way to Wanmin Restaurant.
By the time they'd ambled over there, night had fallen completely, and warm lantern light glowed across Chihu Rock.
On the stage at Third-Round Knockout, Iron Tongue Tian was in the middle of a storytelling performance, words pouring out of him.
Fang Qiu and Hu Tao ordered their food and found a table.
"Old Zhang was sleeping soundly when all at once he heard it — a creaking, grinding sound from under his bed. A grating sound, like fingernails snapping off one by one. It set Old Zhang's whole body crawling. He took up his candle, leaned down, and looked beneath the bed — and what do you think he saw? A face. And what kind of face was it? Ashen. Not a drop of blood in it. Covered all over in spots — the death-spots that only corpses grow. And most of all, those two hollow, unfocused eyes…"
They'd barely sat down. Fang Qiu hadn't even had time to pick up the teapot and pour herself a cup before Iron Tongue Tian's voice came sliding out, cold and creeping.
And when he finished, he rapped the backboard, and a painting rolled down from it and unfurled.
The painting showed exactly the ghastly corpse he'd just described. The visual impact was tremendous.
More than a few people in the audience jumped at Iron Tongue Tian's illustration.
Fang Qiu went rigid from head to toe.
There was such a thing as that maneuver?!
"Hu Tao, can we eat inside the Wanmin Restaurant instead?"
Fang Qiu swallowed hard, pressed her knees together, and asked in a slightly shaky voice.
"Mm."
Seeing the state she was in, Hu Tao nodded.
She was actually rather interested in Iron Tongue Tian's story, but she also knew that this sort of thing terrified Fang Qiu more than anything.
So they relocated to the Wanmin Restaurant's dining room.
After what had just happened, Fang Qiu ate her meal in a daze.
Her head was full of nothing but that face under the bed from Iron Tongue Tian's painting, covered in corpse-spots.
When they finished eating, Hu Tao walked her all the way home.
Only once she got there did Fang Qiu remember that Shenhe had told her that morning, on her way out to investigate the place where they'd run into danger the day before, that she most likely wouldn't be coming home tonight…
Looking at the pitch-black courtyard as a gust of wind swept through, Fang Qiu felt a chill crawl up her spine.
As if somewhere in that darkness a grim, silent corpse were staring at her.
The moment the thought crossed her mind, her legs went weak.
"Hu Tao, could you stay and keep me company tonight…"
Fang Qiu clutched the hem of her clothes, her voice tight and a little pleading.
If she were home alone tonight, she'd probably spend the whole night jumping at shadows and never get a wink of sleep…
"Eh?"
Hu Tao froze for a beat, color rising in her pretty face.
She'd suddenly remembered yesterday morning, and the scene that had greeted her when she went into Fang Qiu's room to wake her up.
If it happened again, she wasn't at all sure she could hold back — that her hand wouldn't come down.
"You can't?"
When Hu Tao didn't answer right away, panic crept into Fang Qiu's voice.
"No, no, of course I can!"
Hu Tao said quickly, cheeks flushed.
Hearing her agree, Fang Qiu let out a breath of relief.
Hu Tao really was the best.
Honestly, what a disaster out of nowhere.
That Iron Tongue Tian — if he was going to tell stories, he should just tell stories. Why bring ghost stories into it…
And fine, tell the ghost story, but why add illustrations on top of it…
And that picture had appeared so abruptly.
And the content of it was so horrifying…
No gore, no twisted limbs — just an indescribable eeriness, a bone-deep wrongness.
Like getting up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom, flipping on the light, and finding a paper effigy at the head of your bed staring straight at you…
Frightening beyond words.
It had nearly scared her into… well, you know.
Fang Qiu was starting to suspect Iron Tongue Tian had photographed an actual ghost…
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