On this day, the sky over Liyue Harbor was a clear, washed blue—a perfectly ordinary fine day.
But for the keen-nosed book lovers of Liyue Harbor, there was a faint, unusual thread of anticipation floating in the air.
Early in the morning, a brand-new announcement board was hung at the entrance of Sanyu Bookstore, bearing elegant yet eye-catching characters that read:
[New Work by Mr. Lovia]
"The Travels of Shi Po Chen · Part Two: Lord Shi Po and the 'Ten Boxes, Half Price'"
On sale precisely at Si hour today!
This board seemed to possess a magic of its own, instantly capturing the gaze of every passerby.
"Look! It's that Mr. Lovia! He's written a new book!"
"A second volume of 'The Travels of Shi Po Chen'? Quick, quick, I must get a copy!"
"'Ten Boxes, Half Price'? That title sounds interesting! Could it be another new... oh, I mean, another amusing anecdote about Lord Shi Po?"
"It's almost Si hour! Shop Assistant, save one for me! I'll be right back!"
This news spread like wings, swiftly flying across all of Liyue.
The moment Si hour arrived, as the Sanyu Bookstore assistant had just placed a stack of freshly printed booklets, still fragrant with ink, on the counter by the entrance, the crowd surged forward in a rush.
"One for me!"
"I'll take two! One for my wife!"
"Shop Assistant, hurry up! Charge it to the Northland Bank account..."
"Hey, don't push, don't push! There's enough for everyone!"
...For a moment, the scene was incredibly lively.
Shopkeeper Sun stood behind the counter, grinning from ear to ear, watching the assistant collect Mora while listening to the various sounds customers made as they eagerly flipped through the booklets on the spot.
"Pfft! 'Ten Boxes, Half Price'? 'Unlimited Stacking'? Lord Shi Po's calculations... hahaha!" A young apprentice burst into laughter, doubled over, after just reading the beginning.
"'Charge it to the Qixing'? Haha, truly a classic move." A middle-aged man dressed as a merchant stroked his beard, sharing a knowing smile.
"Look, look, he gave some to Cloud Retainer! 'Oh? When did you learn mortal promotional tactics?' Ah, that tone, it really sounds like an adeptus!" Clearly, this person had heard some tales of the adepti.
"The part about the Conqueror of Demons... it makes my heart ache a little, yet I also want to laugh. What's going on?"
"Streetward Rambler is right! The money saved is enough to see two operas! Hahaha!"
"He saved, but didn't he spend even more by buying so much?"
"With 'Ten Boxes, Half Price,' naturally, the more you buy, the more you save..."
...Noise and laughter filled the bookstore entrance, each person finding amusement in the lighthearted and humorous story.
However, as they delved deeper, especially upon reaching the final scene, the lively discussions gradually quieted.
Smiles slowly faded from many faces, replaced by quiet focus.
Some stared repeatedly at the lines describing the wordless stele, their gazes lingering.
Some clicked their tongues softly, unconsciously rubbing the page with their fingers, their eyes drifting towards the window as if imagining the scene of that sunset mountainside.
A young woman dressed simply and elegantly, with a serene demeanor, even quietly turned her back and wiped the corner of her eye with her sleeve.
"This ending..." An elderly man closed the booklet and sighed softly, his tone no longer playful but tinged with emotion. "It's written so... ah, it's hard to describe the feeling."
"Yes, the beginning made my stomach hurt from laughing, but seeing this part, my heart suddenly... softened." Someone nearby agreed.
"The Lord of Geo... is also a nostalgic person. Over thousands of years, he must have witnessed too many passings." Someone speculated in a low voice about the origin of the wordless stele, their tone full of reverence, devoid of any hint of mockery.
This silence and sentiment spread among the readers in a profound way.
Meanwhile, at the entrance of the General Affairs Department, Keqing, having just finished a meeting, was about to return to her office when she saw several young secretaries huddled together, whispering with their heads down, holding what seemed to be a familiar-looking booklet.
(As for why it looked familiar? Those who know, know.)
"'The Travels of Shi Po Chen · Part Two'? When did a sequel come out?" Keqing raised a brow slightly and walked over.
The secretaries jumped in fright, quickly standing straight to salute. "L-Lady Keqing!"
Keqing extended her hand, and one of the secretaries instinctively handed the book over. Keqing flipped through it quickly. Upon seeing "Ten Boxes, Half Price" and "charge it to the Qixing," the corner of her mouth twitched involuntarily. But when she turned to the last page and saw the description before the wordless stele, she fell silent for a moment before handing the book back.
"...During work hours, mind your conduct." She finally said flatly, turning to leave. Yet, her steps seemed slower than usual, as if she were pondering something.
Inside WangSheng Funeral Parlor, Zhongli was holding a cup of hot tea, listening to an attendant's report. At that moment, the young female attendant from last time slipped in quietly and placed a new book on the tea table the consultant often used.
After the report concluded, Zhongli's gaze naturally fell upon the new book. He picked it up, and his brow moved slightly upon seeing the title.
He turned the pages slowly, his expression as calm and unreadable as ever. Only when he saw "Unlimited Stacking" did he raise his teacup and take a small sip.
Upon reading the part about distributing the items to the adepti, especially the reactions of his old friends, a faint hint of amusement seemed to flicker in his eyes.
And when his gaze swept over the final scene—the mountainside, the sunset, the wordless stele, the incense box, and the golden pine needles shimmering like Mora... the hand holding his teacup paused for a moment.
Those deep, amber eyes, like Cor Lapis, rested on the words "wordless stele" and "golden pine needles like shimmering Mora" for a long, still moment.
After a long while, an extremely soft, almost inaudible sigh escaped his lips.
This sigh held no anger; it was more a sense of absurdity, a feeling of being at a loss whether to laugh or cry, mixed with a sliver of admiration for Mr. Lovia's increasingly outrageous imagination.
Deceased wife? Mora?
Zhongli shook his head slightly.
This fabrication... was truly unbelievable, yet it fit seamlessly with the shocking "research" from the previous installments, forming its own system of absurdity that was nonetheless logically self-consistent.
He almost had to admire the author's "ingenious originality."
Yet, the depicted scene carried a quiet poetry.
The sunset, the mountainside, the Nameless stele, the deity whispering alone, the pine needles falling in the wind, shimmering like currency.
This fictional tribute, this longing directed at emptiness, did not anger him for being portrayed; instead, it drew him into deeper contemplation.
A deceased wife was, of course, pure fabrication.
But that wordless stele... that remembrance held eternally in the heart, was not false.
The rising steam from the cup blurred his vision. In the reflection of the tea water, many faces and figures seemed to surface.
On the plains of the Guili Assembly, the dear friend who once drank with him, debated with him, and ultimately entrusted her wisdom and dreams to the land of Liyue... her laughter, her mechanical arts, her gentle, reluctant gaze upon this land in the end... Beneath The Chasm, the Yakshas who once fought bloody battles by his side, protecting the mortals behind them, finally succumbing to exhaustion and falling into slumber... their sharp spear tips, their silent loyalty, the pain and determination of their burning karma... And more, many more... The brutality of the Archon War was not as simple as merely selecting seven victors.
It was a path paved with countless sacrifices, a tragic epic of dear friends, comrades-in-arms, and even worthy adversaries, each falling into the long river of time.
He had indeed stood countless times atop different mountain peaks, or amidst ruins, or in quiet places, in silent contemplation.
Sometimes once every few years, sometimes once every few centuries.
The things he brought might differ—a pot of newly brewed wine, a rare and wondrous stone, sometimes perhaps truly just a whispered "Have you been well lately?"
It had nothing to do with romance, only the weight of millennia of sediment known as "memory."
This Mr. Lovia, in a completely mistaken way, had somehow touched upon the genuine emotional core of a certain deity.
It was not mourning for a specific deceased wife, but grief for all the important existences lost over a long life—a gentleness that was more grand, yet also more lonely.
Zhongli lowered his eyes, looking at the unfurling tea leaves in his cup, his gaze distant, as if piercing through the roof of WangSheng Funeral Parlor to see Liyue's vast, azure sky and, beneath it, this land that had flourished to this day, nourished by countless sacrifices.
He took another small sip of tea. The temperature was just right, slightly bitter with a sweet aftertaste.
Just like these years.
Finally, he gently closed the booklet and set it aside, his movements as steady and composed as ever.
Let it be.
If a fictional tribute could resonate with genuine remembrance, perhaps it was not entirely a bad thing.
It's just that Mr. Lovia's pen has grown ever more cunning, and ever more... dangerous.
He shook his head, a slight curve forming at the corner of his lips—a mix of resignation and, to some degree, acknowledgment.
At the very least, this story was far more elegant, subtle, and moving than the "synthesizing deities" or "the one who brings death to his wives" tales.
After a long while, Zhongli murmured softly to himself, his voice so low it was almost inaudible. "...'Ten Boxes, Half Price,' Unlimited Stacking, eventually reaching free? That is a novel line of thought."