"Big Hilichurl fell sick, second Hilichurl checked, third Hilichurl bought medicine, fourth Hilichurl brewed it, fifth Hilichurl died —
sixth Hilichurl carried the coffin, hey… hoo."
The golden hour of dusk was settling in.
The streets of Liyue Harbor hummed with life — vendors hawking their wares, customers haggling back and forth, the noise never quite stopping.
Hu Tao strolled through the bustling crowd with a smile on her face, the last copy of 5 Centimeters Per Second tucked under her arm, humming her own improvised Hilitune as she went. Halfway through a verse, she let out a small, satisfied breath.
"Heh heh. Quite a few people should be coming to Wangsheng Funeral Parlor to pre-book services after this."
She glanced down at the book in her hand with a grin and murmured to herself, "I wonder what kind of story Fang Qiu wrote this time."
She made her way back to Wangsheng Funeral Parlor.
Out front, a stiff wind was blowing, rustling the osmanthus trees with a continuous rustle and sway. The lanterns hanging over the entrance swayed with it, their flames dancing in and out of the shadows.
Beneath one of those lanterns, the young female undertaker stood with the book cradled in both hands, reading by the flickering light, utterly absorbed.
The little pushcart beside her feet was completely empty.
Clearly, Fang Qiu's story had found plenty of takers.
"That Zhongli — always pawning his work off on someone else."
Hu Tao didn't disturb the female undertaker. She just tilted her head back to look up at the lit second-floor window, grumbling inwardly.
And at that very moment, upstairs in Wangsheng Funeral Parlor.
Candlelight flickered inside the room.
By its warm glow, Zhongli gently closed 5 Centimeters Per Second — he had just turned the final page — and moved to the window, gazing out at the bright moon hanging over the horizon.
"Time truly is cruel to ordinary people."
He let out a long, quiet sigh, his expression difficult to read.
Fang Qiu had written this one in a very understated register. It was nothing like Your Lie in April, with its love that carved itself into the bone. Nothing like Your Name either, with its soaring, turbulent plot and a love so fierce it broke through the rules of the world itself.
5 Centimeters Per Second was quiet throughout — not a single dramatic wave. It was like a cup of old wine with no taste at all. Only after you finished it did it slowly begin to resonate, drawing you under.
Because what Fang Qiu had written was a stretch of a human life.
A quiet, regretful stretch of a human life.
Just then, a voice drifted up from below.
"Zhongli — have you had dinner yet?"
At the sound of it, Zhongli looked down. Hu Tao was perched on the stone railing below, waving up at him with a grin.
"Not yet," Zhongli replied, shaking his head.
"In that case…" Hearing his answer, the corner of Hu Tao's mouth curved into a little smirk. "You're on your own then. I already ate on the way back. I'm going back to my book."
She had deliberately set it up to sound like she might be offering to treat him — just so she could pull the rug out at the last second.
"This child…"
Zhongli watched her settle back onto the stone railing, swinging her legs idly as she returned to her book, and couldn't help a helpless, fond smile.
But the smile faded as quickly as it came. He let out a soft breath.
"I suppose I'll go have a drink."
He walked back to his desk, set 5 Centimeters Per Second on the antique shelf, and turned to leave the room.
After a word to Hu Tao and the female undertaker, he stepped out onto the streets of Liyue.
The same tavern as last time.
Business was unusually brisk tonight — the staff were run off their feet — yet the atmosphere inside was strangely subdued and heavy. Most of the patrons were drinking in silence, cup after cup, and more than a few had tears running freely down their faces as they drank.
Zhongli chose a seat by the window.
The moment he sat down, the proprietress — a woman in a cheongsam — came gliding over, her face lit up with a smile she could barely contain.
Not only because business had been unusually good tonight.
But also because Zhongli was exceptionally generous with his spending, had an extraordinary capacity for drink, and always left quietly once he was done — never causing the tavern a moment's trouble.
"What will you be having tonight, sir?"
"Two jugs of osmanthus wine."
Zhongli said calmly.
"Just a moment."
The proprietress returned shortly with the wine, then left him to it.
He poured himself a cup and was about to drink when his gaze drifted to a young man sitting not far away.
The young man wore a deep blue scholar's robe with a moon-white vest layered over it, embroidered with cloud motifs.
On his table sat two books.
One was 5 Centimeters Per Second, by Fang Qiu. The other was The Senior Disciple of the Guhua Clan, by Chang the Ninth.
Beside the books stood six or seven jugs of wine. Four of them were already empty.
"Girl — my book is already famous in Inazuma. Have you seen it? Do you… still remember me?"
He muttered, slurring slightly, lifting and setting down his cup as he spoke. Between words, he reached out and ran a hand over the cover of The Senior Disciple of the Guhua Clan.
"Or maybe it's like what Fang Qiu wrote — all these years gone by, and you've already forgotten me… that's why it's been so long and you still haven't come to find me…
"No. It can't be. It must be your family keeping you away. That's the only reason you would move without even a word of goodbye. Girl, wait for me. One day I'll make my name ring out across all seven nations. By then I'll have money — your parents won't be able to object to us anymore.
"Please, girl. Wait a little longer. Let me try a little harder. Don't you forget me. You must not forget me."
He went on talking to himself, drinking to himself — and then, with a dull thud, his head dropped forward onto the two books lying open on the table.
He was out cold.
From where Zhongli sat, he could see it clearly: the young man's tears were soaking into the covers of both books.
Zhongli raised his cup and took a quiet sip, then turned his gaze to the window.
Outside, the streets of Liyue Harbor were alive with noise and light.
Come to think of it — the Liyue Harbor of today bore almost no resemblance to the Liyue Harbor of thousands of years ago. It had changed completely.
Of all the marks left across the land of Liyue in those thousand-year-old days… how many still remained now…
And at that same moment, in Yanfei's office.
Yanfei sat by the window, reading 5 Centimeters Per Second by candlelight, her brow furrowed in quiet concentration.
The story was drawing to its close.
Tohno Takaki and Shinohara Akari passed each other on the old road they had known since childhood. Takaki was on one side; Akari had gone to the other. He turned to look back — and a procession of carriages came thundering past, hooves clattering, cutting off his line of sight entirely.
Takaki didn't turn away. He waited for the carriages to pass.
At the sight of this, a small smile tugged at the corner of Yanfei's lips.
Fang Qiu had been hinting at it earlier in the text.
Once the carriage procession was gone, the young Akari would be there waiting for him on the other side of the road.
And for the ending, Fang Qiu would surely bring the two threads together.
After the carriages passed, Akari would be standing on the other side, smiling as she called out to him.
"Shall we go look at the cherry blossoms together? Oh — do you still remember? The speed at which cherry blossoms fall — it's five centimeters per second."
After all, Fang Qiu's earlier books had been heartbreaking, but the ending of Your Name had been so wonderfully sweet. Miyamizu Mitsuha and Tachibana Taki had lost their memories of each other — and yet, even having forgotten, they could still find one another in a sea of faces with a single glance.
So she was sure: this book would end the same way. A warm reunion. A happy ending.
Holding onto that hope, she read on.
The procession thundered past. Then, from the opposite direction, another procession came thundering through.
And when the road cleared at last — the other side was empty. There was no one there. Only cherry blossoms drifting down in an endless curtain, falling at five centimeters per second.
"…?"
Yanfei's smile froze.
The book wasn't over yet.
She quickly read on, telling herself — maybe Akari was hiding behind one of the trees nearby, waiting to surprise him.
But Takaki simply stood there for a moment. Then a look of quiet peace crossed his face, and he turned and walked away.
The End.
"That's it?"
Yanfei murmured.
That was how Tohno Takaki and Shinohara Akari's story ended?
A breeze drifted in through the window, lifting her hair — and at the same moment, a line of clear tears spilled over, sliding down her pale cheeks and falling onto the last page of the book.
On that last page, there was a single line.
"Cherry blossoms fall at five centimeters per second. And so do we drift apart — five centimeters every second."
The ending wasn't like Your Lie in April — that grief hadn't crashed over her like a wave, leaving her gasping for air.
This was quieter. Understated.
But watching Takaki smile with quiet acceptance and turn to walk away — she couldn't stop the tears from coming.
Cherry blossoms fall at five centimeters per second.
Time had carried Tohno Takaki and Shinohara Akari five centimeters further apart with every passing second, until they had each forgotten the other entirely.
At first she had wondered: if not for that carriage procession, would they have had one last chance to find their way back to each other?
But when she saw the line Fang Qiu had left on the final page, she understood.
Even without the carriages — Akari would not have turned back.
Because though only a single road separated them, their hearts had already drifted to the farthest ends of the world from each other.
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