Genshin Impact, I, a mere mortal, cannot accompany you to the very end.

Guobeng asked.

"Because you've come this far."

Yae no Miko pressed her slender index finger against the tofu ball, and said earnestly:

"Taste is a strange thing. Many things taste ordinary to us and we take them for granted, but we only miss them after we lose them."

"You subconsciously returned here, simply because you were longing for it deep in your heart."

She paused, her voice low, almost a murmur: "This is a truth I've only recently come to understand."

Guo Beng frowned.

The fox udon was ready quickly.

The clear broth absorbed the smoothness of the tofu, and the noodles were gently soaked into the soup. Warm steam rose in the slightly chilly night air, emitting a faint fragrance.

I still remember the first time I ate it.

Kiyono Raimei brought a steaming bowl of noodles to him. Guo Beng didn't want to eat, but Kiyono Raimei slapped him hard on the head. "Little brat, you won't grow tall if you don't eat! Look how short you are!"

He spoke while laughing heartily—this happened more than three hundred years ago.

Rough, large hands, but very warm.

Guo Beng stared at the noodles, remained silent for a while, then picked up a piece of tofu with his chopsticks and put it in his mouth.

The tofu melts in your mouth, releasing a delicate fragrance on your tongue, and then slides down your esophagus, warming your lungs and heart.

As for the taste...

He still couldn't taste anything, but he felt a sense of nostalgia.

silence.

Guo Beng paused, then finally said, "I've only met Qingye Fengyin once..."

He didn't know why he said it.

Yae no Miko pricked up her fox ears, listening hopefully.

The sun was rising higher and higher.

Just then, slightly hurried footsteps came from outside the door.

"Come in," Guo Beng said.

The masked follower of the Fools pushed open the door, leaned down, and whispered a few words in Guo Pang's ear.

This seems to be some urgent news.

Guo Pang's eyes paused slightly.

"What's wrong?" Yae no Miko asked.

"The lady's mission is complete; a knight has died."

The country collapsed, and he said blankly.

"Kiyono Fuyumi is dead."

For some reason, upon hearing this news, he felt a sudden unease.

.

.

.

.

Ugh, I feel so unwell. I've been lying in bed all day, and my writing isn't going well at all. I only just finished this now.

I need to get some rest and recharge...

"The Virgin Mary Reverses! I Have a Villain Modifier"

Volume 1: Taking a sick day, waaaaah!

Wow everyone, I'm Si Gu.

This is the first time I've asked for leave.

I forced myself to write yesterday, and ended up writing 4,000 words before 1 a.m.

And when I checked it the next day, wow, what the heck... the names Qingye Fengyin and Qingye Leiming are mixed up, and Shenzhixin is written as Shenzhiyan...

I wrote this when my head was really fuzzy.

So I want to rest today and go to bed early, firstly to recuperate and clear my head, and secondly to adjust my sleep schedule.

I feel that with my groggy brain today, even if I managed to write something, it would probably just be a pile of platitudes (crying).

In December, due to various school exams, I had very little time to write during the day, and my update schedule was extremely irregular. My sleep schedule became like that of a person from the underworld...

Now that the exams are over, it's time to return to normal life. I'll also be updating earlier from now on.

The timing is just too outrageous...

Oh my god, COVID, I could kill you a thousand times over!

Volume 1: Chapter 64 That Heart Doesn't Belong to Her (Chapter 2.5)

The morning market in Mondstadt is not much different from what it was five hundred years ago.

Very lively.

The food sold is no different from what it was 500 years ago.

The warm sunlight shone on the weathered stone pillars. As you walked up the long steps covered with maple leaves, you came to the market of Mondstadt. People came and went, and the cries of small merchants were tinged with a yellowish hue in the early winter sun.

The streets of Mondstadt are festive today because the New Year is approaching and there will be a fireworks display tonight.

"Grilled fish, please!"

"Fresh, large apples, fifty moras per pound."

"Candied hawthorn berries, candied hawthorn berries from Liyue!"

The vendor shouted his wares at the top of his lungs; his shop was a food stall, offering a dazzling array of various foods.

He recently learned a skill: making candied hawthorn berries. He puts two spoonfuls of rock sugar in the stove and boils it into a thick syrup. He cooks it over high heat until a light golden, viscous liquid appears. Then he pours it over the hawthorn berries and skewers them with bamboo sticks.

Time may change, and the world may turn into a vast ocean, but the craft of making candied hawthorns remains unchanged even after hundreds of years.

The resulting candied hawthorn skewers are sweet but not cloying, crisp and delicious, with both the fragrance of the fruit and the smoothness of the syrup. In addition, the candied hawthorn skewers are very attractive, making them quite popular with young couples. Young girls love to tug at their boyfriends' clothes and ask them to buy a skewer of candied hawthorn skewers, eating them sweetly and smiling sweetly.

For example, there are several young couples queuing up in front of his shop now.

"Is it delicious?"

The vendor looked up and asked, slightly nervously.

She was a very elegant and tall lady.

Her dark skirt trailed down the long steps, subtly revealing her slender, long legs. She wore a crimson mask, obscuring her face, and her eyeshadow was also crimson.

She lowered her eyes slightly, gazing intently at the candied hawthorn skewer held between her slender fingers, the reddish hawthorn berries displaying a faint luster. The light reflected from the hawthorn berries in her pale blue eyes, as if she were lost in thought.

The vendor had been trading in Mondstadt for over a decade and was now a middle-aged man. The city was bustling with people from all walks of life, and he considered himself to have considerable experience and a keen eye for people—but never had a customer given him such a strange and contradictory impression.

The woman was dressed in luxurious clothes and exuded a cold and arrogant aura, but she gave people a strange illusion, as if her soul was very light, as light as snow that would melt in the sunlight.

"Have you ever eaten candied hawthorn?" he asked.

To avoid an awkward silence, he chuckled and offered auspicious words:

"These candied hawthorns come from Liyue. The small hawthorn fruits are coated with syrup, making them red and round, symbolizing happiness and reunion. They are skewered together with bamboo sticks, which also means that good things will come one after another."

"When a boy buys a string of candied hawthorns for a girl, it means that they will be sweet and happy together."

Saying auspicious words at times like these is always a good idea.

"A reunion, perhaps?" the woman said softly.

She stared at the bright red gourd, her eyes flickering slightly. After a long while, she said, "I've eaten it before."

"Was it given to you by a boy?"

“Many years ago,” the woman said. She seemed to recall something, shook her head helplessly, and a faint smile appeared on her lips, but it was so thin, like the first snow in the sunlight:

"In fact, I forced him to buy it."

"You still remember? That's wonderful."

The vendor said with a touch of emotion:

"That's true happiness. I've always believed that many things are forgotten, but the memory of taste remains profound. The food itself isn't important; what matters is the person you're with, the time and place, and the memory. Was it in a bustling city or a quiet, secluded village, at dawn or dusk?"

"Letters give shape to memories, food gives flavor to memories. Encountering flavor is encountering people."

Mondstadt is indeed a city brimming with artistic atmosphere; even a small vendor has his own unique insights.

"Candied hawthorn is bittersweet, and when you recall the time you spent with him, it will also be bittersweet. Many years later, when you recall that time, you will remember the taste of candied hawthorn, the morning and the evening, and the feelings of that day... I think that's a wonderful thing."

The woman listened quietly to the middle-aged vendor's lament, and only after he finished speaking did she softly hum in agreement.

The executors of the Fools never listen to mortals. The vast gap in their knowledge and level of existence means they neither like nor care to talk to mortals.

But the woman was acting strangely today; she didn't know what was wrong with her.

"...Feel sorry."

The vendor scratched his head, slightly embarrassed, "I said too many strange things..."

"The strange thing is that I am the one who is strange."

The woman said softly.

She paused, the bright spring sunlight casting dappled shadows of leaves onto her delicate profile. The woman lowered her head slightly, half her face hidden in the shadows. After a moment, she continued:

"That person is dead."