From his conversations with the people around him, Severin learned that Wanwen Bookhouse was the largest bookstore in Liyue.
Beyond selling books of every genre, the shop also dealt in brushes, ink, paper, and inkstones, and even accepted consignments of famous calligraphy, paintings, ancient scriptures, and classical scrolls. The proprietress, Ji Fang, ran the place with remarkable insight. From time to time, she invited renowned scholars of Liyue to give lectures for aspiring students. She also set literary challenges—anyone who answered brilliantly would receive travel funds from the bookhouse.
Over time, Wanwen Bookhouse became a sacred ground for examinees preparing for the imperial-style civil exams, and a gathering place where scholars encouraged learning and cultivated literary spirit.
As Severin chatted with the crowd, a very familiar figure appeared.
He had deep amber eyes, a long braided ponytail, and a dangling earring. His features were refined, his bearing elegant. The moment he arrived, scholars and literati alike cupped their hands in greeting, politely addressing him as:
"Mr. Zhongli."
This man was none other than Morax, the Rex Lapis, ruler of Liyue and the oldest among the Seven.
In daily life, he appeared publicly as a consultant of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, so no one knew that Zhongli was in fact the Geo Archon himself.
Zhongli moved with calm composure, responding to greetings with a smile and a nod.
Among everyone present, only Severin sensed it—
A vast, overwhelming surge of Geo elemental power pressed down like solid stone, like the weight of the earth itself bearing upon his shoulders. Even more striking was the dense imperial fate surrounding Zhongli, so tangible it was nearly visible.
Severin immediately reined in his own presence, avoiding a direct clash of auras.
Almost at the same instant, Morax turned his gaze toward him.
For a fleeting moment, he thought he glimpsed a colossal phantom of an ice dragon rising behind Severin—only for it to vanish without a trace.
"You seem unfamiliar, my friend. I don't recall seeing you before," Zhongli said mildly. "May I ask your name?"
"Surname Su. Given name Yu."
"A fine name," Zhongli praised. "It suggests the return of spring and the renewal of all things."
After a brief observation, he continued, "Your presence is extraordinary. Since fate has brought us together, why not go inside for tea and discourse?"
Zhongli was versed in the art of reading auras. Sensing that Severin was no ordinary man, he wished to converse with him.
Across thousands of years in Liyue, he had seen countless extraordinary individuals—but this Severin was someone he could not see through at a glance.
"Very well," Severin replied.
The invitation suited him perfectly; he had come here precisely to meet Morax.
The graceful proprietress Ji Fang hurried out to greet Zhongli.
"Mr. Zhongli, please come in. The students are all waiting. Your lectures are incredibly popular—on this day every month, the shop is packed to the brim."
Zhongli then introduced Severin.
"This gentleman is a friend of mine. May he join me?"
Morax spoke with his usual effortless warmth. Though they had only just met, he called Severin a friend—perhaps partly a courtesy, to bring him inside more easily.
"Of course," Ji Fang replied without hesitation. "Any friend of Mr. Zhongli's is an honored guest of Wanwen Bookhouse."
She narrowed her eyes slightly, studying Severin with curiosity.
She knew Zhongli well, and rarely heard him call anyone a friend. With a merchant's sharp eye, she immediately sensed something unusual—this young man's bearing was extraordinary, in no way inferior to Zhongli himself.
"There's no need to make an exception for me," Severin said calmly. "If the shop has rules, then I should queue like everyone else. Without rules, there can be no order. As the Nation of Contracts, Liyue values structure—and I am no exception."
Morax's goodwill was politely but firmly declined.
The scholars waiting in line—many still full of youthful fervor—looked at Severin with newfound respect.
Zhongli paused, then smiled. "A sound argument."
Ji Fang's eyes darted as inspiration struck.
"Mr. Severin, our shop does have another rule. If you can compose a poem or verse here on the spot, and it earns everyone's approval, you may skip the line."
Severin nodded, then recited a poem aloud:
Thirty years of fame—dust and soil,
Eight thousand miles—clouds and moon.
Do not idle away your youth,
Only to grieve when hair turns white.
Hunger, I feast on the flesh of foes,
Thirst, I drink the blood of invaders.
When the old mountains and rivers are reclaimed,
I shall face the heavens and report my triumph.
A wave of praise erupted among the scholars and patrons.
"Reclaim the old mountains and rivers, face the heavens!"
Zhongli repeated the line, visibly moved. "Mr. Su, does this poem have a title?"
"Man Jiang Hong."
Zhongli turned to Ji Fang.
With solemn respect, she declared, "This poem by Mr. Severin shall be preserved as one of Wanwen Bookhouse's treasured calligraphic works, mounted and displayed in the front hall for future generations to study."
Many contemporary literary masters regarded having their work displayed here as a great honor. When Ji Fang made her decision, not a single scholar objected.
Several people even knelt on the ground, hurriedly copying down Man Jiang Hong. It was clear that within days, the poem would spread far and wide as a celebrated classic.
"Sign it as Yue Fei," Severin added.
Zhongli asked, "Is that your pen name?"
"It is the name of a hero I deeply admire."
Zhongli smiled. "So it is a tribute to a hero. Such breadth of spirit is truly admirable."
Wanwen Bookhouse was vast. Beyond the front hall lay a rear courtyard.
There stood a grand lecture hall capable of holding eight hundred listeners. Most were young scholars full of vigor, but there were also elderly men past sixty, and people of all ages and professions. Yet in all their eyes burned the same thirst for knowledge.
Zhongli stepped onto the lectern first, his gaze steady.
"Today's lecture is titled Cultural Inheritance, divided into two parts. The first half will be delivered by me. The second half will be presented by Mr. Severin."
As soon as this was announced, murmurs spread through the hall.
"Who is this Mr. Severin? I've never heard of him before."
"He looks so young—can his lecture really compare to Mr. Zhongli's?"
"If Mr. Zhongli recommended him, his knowledge must be profound."
Zhongli raised a hand, and the hall fell silent.
"Since the founding of Liyue by the Geo Archon, a rich and distinctive culture of Adepti has gradually taken shape. Even through calamities and disasters, Liyue's culture has endured…"
"Under the protection of the Geo Archon, Liyue possesses the longest cultural history in all of Teyvat, and the greatest vitality…"
"The great Rex Lapis founded Liyue's civilization, safeguarded it, and passed it down through the ages…"
Morax praised his own achievements with complete seriousness while lecturing on history—clearly something he was quite accustomed to.
Among the Seven, if there were a god most fond of hiding in plain sight, it was undoubtedly Morax.
He could recount his own glorious deeds in any setting, before any audience, as easily as breathing.
Severin understood his mood well.
Liyue, built with Morax's own hands and heart, was the pride of his entire existence.
Like an old father boasting about his child, he praised Liyue at every opportunity—occasionally praising himself along the way.
When Zhongli finished, thunderous applause filled the hall. Everyone felt as though they had traveled across millennia.
Severin smiled faintly.
To them, this was history.
To Morax, it was simply a chapter of his life.
And today, Morax had spoken so brilliantly—naturally to raise the difficulty of what followed.
"Now," Zhongli announced, stepping down from the lectern, "I invite Mr. Severin to take the stage."
With that, he handed the remaining time entirely to Severin.
With such a dazzling performance before him, could this young man—who had casually composed Man Jiang Hong—withstand the pressure and deliver a lecture worthy of the moment?
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