Chapter Three: Friends Beyond the World

You haven’t even heard of Huaxia?

Piecing together what the other person had said earlier about the Seven Rulers of the Mortal World, Lu Mingfei gradually began to sense that something was off. He said, “Huaxia isn’t some obscure place—it’s a powerful nation, one of the world’s great powers. How could you not know about Huaxia?”

“Are you... someone from outside this world?”

“Outside this world?”

...

After their brief exchange, Lu Mingfei became increasingly certain: either “Nahida” was from another world, or she was an utter and impeccable madwoman, capable of constructing an entirely new world in her mind, complete with its own history.

After digesting this information, he still felt that something wasn’t quite right. The voice of the God of Wisdom—should it really be so flamboyant?

And this “Nahida”...

To Lu Mingfei, she was like a peacock encountering its natural enemy—terrified deep within, yet stubbornly spreading her wings to show her most beautiful, powerful side.

He asked with some suspicion, “Are you really the God of Wisdom? Even though it’s just a voice, I can’t help but feel your wisdom is... unique. Yes, unique! If anything, your persona fits better with someone like Aqua, that water goddess.”

“Aqua?”

“Nahida” didn’t understand “Aqua,” but she understood the term “water goddess.” And as fate would have it, she was indeed a water goddess.

“Heh heh, ha ha ha ha! To think—even with all my hidden wisdom, you still saw through me! Yes, I am the Water Goddess who presides over justice and judgment, Furina de Fontaine. Just call me Furina.”

“So you really are the Water Goddess...”

Lu Mingfei couldn’t help but mutter to himself, but the more he thought about Furina’s tone, the more it seemed to fit. Of course, there was always the chance she was still lying.

But... what did it matter?

He was terribly alone now—so alone it was as if he were falling endlessly into an abyss. And at that very moment, he found himself clutching a rope—a lifeline only he could grasp in his solitude.

As long as he could hold on, as long as he could stop falling, did it really matter what the rope was made of?

Even if she was weaving pretty lies to deceive him, at least she was earnest about it. Just look at his aunt—she didn’t even bother to lie, simply treating him like a servant.

And in such circumstances, who could he even confide in? His classmates? That was a joke. He’d tried before, and all it got him was people spreading nasty rumors about his parents.

Lu Mingfei hadn’t always been down on his luck; once, he too was a proud child. He fought like a warrior, defending his parents’ good name at school, beating back anyone who dared speak ill of them.

And the result?

The school called in the parents. The other child’s parents were fiercely protective, while Lu Mingfei’s aunt only cared about minimizing the medical bill. She even had him do the other kid’s chores as compensation, never considering what kind of lasting trauma such an experience might cause him.

Perhaps she simply didn’t care...

And from that moment on, Lu Mingfei began to lose heart, to give up—because he had no choice. He was a child with no home, no one to depend on. Like a lion trapped in a swamp, the harder he fought, the deeper he sank.

“By the way, I’ve been getting the feeling you’re not quite yourself,” Furina’s voice sounded again, tinged with concern.

“It’s nothing, really. Just a bit of a cold.”

Night fell. In the cramped, shadowy room, a sliver of moonlight slipped through the narrow gap in the never-quite-closed curtains, quietly creeping in to gaze upon the hidden side of the boy’s face—only to be met by droplets falling from his eyes.

When people are ill, they become especially sensitive, especially insecure. It’s even worse for children like Lu Mingfei—falling sick and having no one to talk to, forced to curl up alone in someone else’s house, sinking ever deeper.

A beast licking its wounds in the dark—such creatures are not immune to love; they simply cannot find it.

“Are you all right? Am I... am I disturbing your rest by talking to you like this?” Furina asked softly.

“It’s fine. I’ve gotten used to it. Honestly, having someone to keep me company when I’m sick... it makes me happy.”

“I’m glad,” Furina sighed in relief.

She stepped out of the grand suite atop the Empress’ Palace, eyes shimmering with two shades of blue, gazing up at the false, resplendent sky of Teyvat. The thought that, even beyond her world, there were others as sad and pitiful as herself brought her a touch of solace.

People like me...

So they exist in every world...

He’s someone from outside this world...

Right, from beyond Teyvat. If Teyvat is a play upon the stage, then he is someone hidden in the audience, able to communicate with me through some special means. Whatever I tell him, it won’t affect the course of the future.

If it’s him, perhaps I can confide in him, just this once? It should be all right... right?

Furina gripped the balcony rail with both hands, tears falling unconsciously. There she was—a young noblewoman in court dress, standing atop the highest tower, softly whispering, “Why... why am I crying? Maybe... maybe there’s just too much water in me.”

(p′︵‵。)

I’ve decided. I’ll say it out loud!

I have to let it out!

“That... actually...”

“Hm?”

“Well, um... you’ve got a cold and you’re still staying up so late—doesn’t it feel terrible?” Furina asked, her voice trembling with the threat of tears.

As the Water Goddess, her sense of duty ultimately outweighed the urge to pour out her heart. She badly wanted to cry, to speak, her mind filled with thoughts of how much lighter she’d feel if only she could say it. But when it came time to actually speak, she couldn’t do it.

She couldn’t. She simply couldn’t say the words!

(⋟﹏⋞)

“Huh?”

Lu Mingfei was stunned as he listened. He thought to himself: I don’t know if I’m miserable, but from the sound of it, you’re even sicker than I am. What kind of fever does it take to be sobbing and talking like that at the same time?

He could sense something was wrong, but with no idea what had truly happened, he didn’t know how to comfort her. In the end, all he could do was stammer out, “It’s okay, it’s okay. I’m used to staying up late—really! I’m fine, so don’t cry. If you keep crying, I’ll start crying too, sob...”

And then, in his heart, he really did cry.

Nothing had gone right today—as if the entire world was against him. But it wasn’t just about this one bad day; it was the weight of years.

Now, sick and tired, all he wanted was to stop thinking and let himself have a good, honest cry.

Crying together wasn’t so bad, was it?

“Why... why are you crying too?”

“I’m just upset!”

“You’re upset... but hearing you cry makes me want to cry even more! Sob... sob...”

“It’s all your fault—if you hadn’t started first, I wouldn’t be crying now! Sob... just hold it in, will you?”

“No, I won’t! I won’t! Sob...”