“Of course, I’m not actually anxious. If you wanted a more reasonable answer… you could say I’m simply excited to try my hand at this.”
Zhongli spoke in his usual calm tone. “Besides, if our research succeeds, the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor could even take on a new line of business. It might relieve some of the financial pressures.”
“Not a chance,” Gu Sanqiu shook his head. “If you said you wanted a monopoly on all the Jueyun Chilis in Liyue, maybe I could believe it, but this? Weapons, firearms? Do you think the Qixing would ever allow the Funeral Parlor to dabble in the arms trade?”
“Or,” he continued, “would certain people—whose sole ambition is to pick apart the lives of their own kind—miss any opportunity to ruin things? They’d either tear a piece out for themselves, or corrupt the whole thing until no one could stomach a bite.”
“That’s just how people are. Or rather, that’s how the most self-centered among them are. And unfortunately, there’s no shortage of that type in Liyue today.” Gu Sanqiu shrugged. “Imagine we could launch this venture successfully. All it would take is one person sabotaging an ammunition depot, and the whole operation would collapse.”
“The Wangsheng Funeral Parlor isn’t one of those trading houses with private guards and armies, and the Gu family certainly isn’t either. That was determined from the very beginning.”
He smiled faintly. “Nobility, Zhongli—you understand what I mean, don’t you? The Gu family and the Funeral Parlor are meant to remain above the fray, nobility in a clean sense.”
“Nobility, in this case, means that we hold no real power. Yet whenever some major incident happens, we’re given a seat at the table, and people maintain a polite veneer when they see us.”
“But for people like us, actual power? That’s a pipe dream.”
Gu Sanqiu spread his hands. “And in this day and age, how much good does ‘nobility’ actually do? The answer’s clear—it doesn’t.”
“Take the Sanyuan Society, for example.” His tone darkened. “They’ve been hoping to get rid of me for some time. Meanwhile, the Funeral Parlor quietly preserves the balance between life and death, and that’s precisely why it hasn’t been targeted too much.”
“If the Gu family and Funeral Parlor’s accomplishments were ever publicly celebrated, I can’t say for certain, but I’d wager that seventy to eighty percent of Liyue’s citizens would be lighting incense and honoring our ancestral plaques at home.”
He let out a dry chuckle. “Our ancestors likely foresaw this issue. They feared one of us might be a loose cannon and chose this ‘noble’ path to keep us in line.”
“‘Harmony and order.’ It’s not just a poetic phrase you see in books. In a city like Liyue, driven by the pursuit of fame and Mora, anything can happen.”
He tapped his chest lightly with his finger. “Even my own death wouldn’t be out of the question.”
“Now, Zhongli, tell me—do you still think we have time for impatience?”
…
“Is that truly what Liyue Harbor has come to?”
“It’s not about what it has ‘become’ but rather the direction it’s headed in.” Gu Sanqiu took a seat and pulled out a peppermint to chew on thoughtfully.
“To those at the top, Liyue is on the brink of great change. But for the average person, it doesn’t matter in the slightest.”
“A night-soil worker’s life wouldn’t change if the Qixing turned into the ‘Assembly of the Stars.’ All he cares about is that he earns enough to eat every day.”
Gu Sanqiu gestured to himself. “The Funeral Parlor Master, myself… we may have extraordinary strength, but in public, we still live as ordinary people. It’s fundamentally different from those who can’t wait for the whole world to know their every trick.”
“The Funeral Parlor’s grounds are right at the end of Bishui Plains, beyond Feiyun Slope,” he went on, tracing the area with his finger. “Is it in the center of Liyue? Not at all. To ordinary people, the center is wherever the Mora flows most.”
“Yes, balance.”
“It’s a somewhat abstract idea, but that’s what our predecessors at the Funeral Parlor pursued.”
“Yin and Yang balanced, life and death orderly.”
“The path to the afterlife—so that peace reigns on Earth.”
Gu Sanqiu rose and gave a short bow. “I’ve said too much today. I’ll take my leave.”
“Wait.”
Gu Sanqiu tensed as Zhongli’s calm voice stopped him.
“What is it?”
“Just now, you spoke about avoiding unnecessary complications, especially if it meant sparing Master Hu from additional stress.”
“So then… you, too, are someone who hopes for stability.”
“Or perhaps,” he continued, his gaze sharpening, “you have your own plans.”
Gu Sanqiu blinked. Did he imagine that? Or had he just glimpsed an unsettling glint in Zhongli’s eyes?
“What are you waiting for? In the grand scheme of things, what are you working toward?”
“Well, no fooling a wise man, I see,” Gu Sanqiu chuckled, his tone amused. “You’re right. I do have my plans.”
Zhongli’s expression barely shifted, though perhaps he hadn’t expected such a candid admission.
“Everyone has their reasons and ambitions, so why probe further? It’s like my guess that you have your own intentions with this.” He nodded toward Zhongli. “It all comes back to that girl.”
“We’re both adults. Even if we dig to the bottom, we might find it’s far from the truth. We can question things, but there’s no real need, is there?”
Setting down the peppermint on the ground, Gu Sanqiu summoned Geo energy, gently cocooning it and coaxing forth new life from the herb.
“Farewell.”
…
(:з」∠)
Back home, Gu Sanqiu threw himself onto his bed, suddenly feeling defeated by life.
Question: Does directly confronting your boss make for an adrenaline rush?
Answer: Only until you’re dead.
“Still, he’s not exactly the type to get angry, and I was telling the truth,” he muttered, rolling back and forth on his bed.
“Strategy, huh?” Gu Sanqiu groaned. “Just my luck to end up looking like some scheming mastermind.”
There’s no way Emperor Morax’s motivation for all this is just early retirement—so he can go to Mondstadt and drag Barbatos off on a world tour of banquets.
When you think about Liyue’s future, or even the “plotline,” it’s clear that whether or not the city’s ancient culture remains intact, it’ll still see the Fatui Vanguard, the Treasure Hoarders, and their endless troublemaking.
If weapons like firearms ever went mainstream, it’d be a miracle if the Treasure Hoarders didn’t get wiped out.
As for the Northland Bank?
Aside from Childe and the ever-elusive Lady Harbinger, who else would dare roam the streets of Liyue in broad daylight?
Ha! Go ahead, file a formal request. If it’s not as grand as a heartfelt soliloquy, it’ll just get kicked back to you for rewrites.
No rules say poems are forbidden, of course. If one of those Snezhnayan agents could write a verse so moving it got Liyue’s poets talking, the Qixing would probably award them the title of “Literary Hero,” citing it as proof of the two nations’ friendship.
And then… you think they’d have time to go sightseeing?
Impossible. Each day, they’d have back-to-back charity functions and business events. They wouldn’t find a single quiet moment, with gala dinners and besotted admirers lining up every night.
If they refused?
Well then—my goodness, they’d be guilty of ruining “the long-standing bonds of friendship between Liyue and Snezhnaya.”
To think! They’d be a disgrace to their homeland, and for what? Trying to tarnish their nation’s name!
—
T/N: Sanyuan Society is the Three Secret Society.
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