As the first ray of morning sunlight pierced the heavy mist and spilled across Liyue Harbor, the Wanwen Bookhouse opened for business.
The novel lovers at the front of the line surged forward all at once.
"Proprietress, ten copies of anohana: The Flower We Saw That Day!"
"Proprietress, one anohana: The Flower We Saw That Day, one Father of the Weather, one Storm of Chivalry, and one My Struggle."
"Father of the Weather? What kind of rubbish book is that? Why does the title sound so familiar? And what on earth is My Struggle?"
"I know the author of Father of the Weather. The title looks like he's riding the coattails of that old scoundrel Fang Qiu, but it doesn't have half a Mora's worth of connection to her book. Pure coincidence with the name. He told me it's about a protagonist who takes charge of the weather and becomes the god of weather. As for My Struggle, well, the author's name struck me as interesting, so I'm buying it to have a look. If it's no good, I'll return it."
"The author's name is interesting? What's he called?"
"Adolf."
"What a strange name. Sounds a bit like a Mondstadt author's name. Well then, Proprietress, I'll take a Father of the Weather and a My Struggle too… uh, and three copies of anohana: The Flower We Saw That Day. Nearly forgot what I actually came for."
Jifang, the proprietress, had the books ready for her customer in an instant.
Once she had collected the Mora, she glanced over at the other shop assistants. They had their hands just as full.
Before long, new customers stepped up.
Two men, one fat, one thin.
"Boss, fifty-three copies of anohana: The Flower We Saw That Day."
"That many?"
Jifang blinked, but she hauled the books over for them quickly enough. They paid their Mora, gathered up the enormous pile, shuffled off to one side, and began stuffing the books into a sack.
"B-boss… doing this much wrong, won't it… won't it be the death of us?" the fatty asked, hesitant.
At those words the skinny man stopped packing at once, spun around, and smacked the back of the fatty's head.
"Damn it, always spouting rhymes. You planning to sit the Ministry of Civil Affairs exam?"
The skinny man snapped, "Those two told us to buy books for them. We've been queuing here since the middle of the night. Would it not be idiotic to pass up a chance to make some money? After we hand over their books, you're coming with me to sell the rest. Two hundred Mora a copy. We'll clean up, and then we'll take the winnings to the Yanshang Teahouse and gamble it all back, everything we lost before."
"But… we've already had rotten luck so many times from reselling books. I really do think doing this much wrong… will be… the death of us," the fatty said, worried.
"Enough of your nonsense, get to work. Keep rhyming and I'll thrash you," the skinny man growled.
"Oh."
The fatty didn't dare say more. He muttered, "You already hit me," then bent to the sack and packed books in earnest.
At that same moment.
Downstairs, in the tavern.
As soon as the Wanwen Bookhouse opened its doors and began selling, the Tavern Proprietress had her staff hand out copies to their esteemed members.
"Mister Zhongli, this one is yours."
The Tavern Proprietress personally carried over an exquisitely bound copy of anohana: The Flower We Saw That Day and offered it to Zhongli, who sat upright at his table.
"My thanks."
Zhongli took the book, nodded, and rose. "Put it on the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor's tab, if you would."
"Of course."
The Tavern Proprietress nodded without a flicker of hesitation.
Mister Zhongli was fond of running a tab, true, but every time she sent someone to the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor to collect afterward, the debt was settled without any trouble.
And if Director Hu happened to be out, the employee sent to collect usually came back with a tip besides.
So she didn't mind the tab at all.
After a few pleasantries, Zhongli glanced at Chang the Ninth, seated by the window with the book already open, savoring it line by line. Then, book in hand, he turned and left the tavern.
Out on the street the fog had thinned considerably. Beyond the long dragon of a queue in front of the Wanwen Bookhouse, other pedestrians hurried along on their own business.
Among the crowd, however, he spotted two familiar figures.
Hm?
Them again?
Zhongli found that a little unexpected.
He had assumed that Mountain Shaper and Moon Carver had come the last time simply because they couldn't stop worrying about Liyue Harbor, and so had taken mortal form to walk its streets. Seeing how well Fang Qiu's book was selling, they had bought a copy to learn what the people of Liyue Harbor enjoyed these days.
He hadn't expected them to come back.
Whose book were they here for this time?
Zhongli was mildly curious.
And just as the thought crossed his mind, Mountain Shaper and Moon Carver noticed him as well.
At that very moment, two men, one fat and one thin, came up carrying a sack and three copies of anohana: The Flower We Saw That Day, and stopped in front of Mountain Shaper and Moon Carver.
Zhongli smiled faintly at the sight.
It was all quite clear now.
So these two Adepti had also come for that child Fang Qiu's book.
He gave Mountain Shaper and Moon Carver a slight nod out of courtesy, then turned and walked away toward the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor.
Only once Zhongli had receded into the distance did Mountain Shaper and Moon Carver turn back, impatient, to the pair of Treasure Hoarders standing before them.
"Hand them over," Mountain Shaper said coldly.
The skinny man had been nursing a certain resentment at being left standing there with his underling, ignored. But the moment he heard the icy voice of this young man in the dark yellow robe, a chill ran through him and his whole body gave an involuntary shudder.
Every trace of resentment evaporated.
"Here you are, sirs, the books you wanted."
The skinny man held out the three copies of anohana: The Flower We Saw That Day with trembling hands, speaking with the utmost deference.
"Mm."
Mountain Shaper took the books, glanced them over, and said, "Very well. Keep two of the books in that sack for yourselves, then you may go."
At those words the skinny man froze, and his face drained and twisted into something ugly. He struggled for a long moment before stammering, "Weren't you gentlemen only asking for three books…"
"Making you buy books was a punishment. Not only have you failed to repent, you tried to turn a profit off it," Mountain Shaper said coldly.
Hearing that frigid voice, the skinny man looked as though he were attending his own parents' funeral. He didn't dare argue further. With a stricken face he pulled two books out of the sack, handed the sack over to Mountain Shaper, and fled as fast as his legs would carry him.
"Mountain Shaper, what do you intend to do with the books you made them leave behind?" Moon Carver asked.
Mountain Shaper frowned. He had meant to give them to some of the children who loved to read.
Fang Qiu's books had genuine literary merit, after all.
They had earned Rex Lapis's approval, no less.
On second thought, though, Fang Qiu's books hardly seemed suitable for children.
Children were better off happy.
Fang Qiu's books could wait until they had grown a little older.
He raised his head toward the long queue stretched out before the Wanwen Bookhouse, and at last his gaze settled on a girl pulling a small handcart, dressed in the garb of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor.
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