On the vast, open sea, once disaster struck, even the bodies could rarely be recovered.
Not even a year old, Gu Chen lost both his parents just like that.
Fortunately, he wasn't abandoned. As Old Gu's close friend, Naganohara Masato took him in and treated him as his own child, showing neither favoritism nor neglect.
A child's mind is pure and unguarded. Naganohara Masato didn't want him to learn about his parents' misfortune so early—at the very least, he wanted to wait until Gu Chen was older, until he could bear such grief.
So, he made up a story.
"Ah Chen, your father and mother went back to Liyue to look for relatives. They'll be gone for a few years. You'll stay here with me for now," Masato said.
Young Gu Chen couldn't really tell truth from lie. At first, he thought he had been abandoned, but Masato shook his head and denied it.
"How could that be? Your parents love you so much—how could they leave you behind? I'm your father's closest friend. If they really wanted to abandon you, they could've just left you deep in the mountains. Don't worry—they couldn't bear to leave you. They just got excited after hearing news about family and went to look for them. They'll come back in a few years."
"Oh… okay!"
The young Gu Chen believed him.
In truth, he didn't fully understand most of what Masato said. All he needed to know was that he hadn't been abandoned—and that was enough.
As the seasons passed, Gu Chen grew day by day, learning more about the world.
From subtle clues, he had already realized the truth—his parents might never return.
He didn't know whether to call himself strong or something else; he only felt a complicated weight in his heart.
Memories from early childhood had already faded. His parents' faces had long since blurred, until all that remained was the vague notion of them—without any clear image.
He couldn't even remember what they looked like.
There were no portraits at home either. After all, they had been so young—why would they have prepared such things?
Perhaps it was because childhood memories fade so easily, slipping away as one grows, that Gu Chen didn't feel overwhelming sorrow.
By the time he was eight, Gu Chen had moved back into his own home.
Naganohara Masato still helped manage the place, and the two houses weren't far apart. Gu Chen would return to the Naganohara household for meals each day, then go back home to read the old Liyue books left behind by his ancestors.
Though the Gu family had declined, their shelves were still filled with ancient texts—records meant to help future generations understand their lineage and their distant homeland.
To Gu Chen, that homeland still felt abstract. But the books described a grand history—a land shaped by the conquests of the Geo Archon, stories that read like epic poetry and stirred his heart.
From these historical records and strange tales, a thought gradually took root in his mind.
Humans have an inner world—a realm of thoughts where countless people and events are imagined.
History can be recorded.
So… could he record his own inner world as well?
With that idea, Gu Chen set down his book and went to find Naganohara Masato.
Before long, he found him.
"Uncle Naganohara, I have an idea."
He explained his thoughts.
Masato didn't fully understand, but he found the boy's imagination intriguing. Smiling, he said, "If you want to do it, then go ahead. No need to rush though. You said you want to record people and things in your mind… then you'll have to read more books. Who knows—you might even become a… what do they call it in Liyue… ah! A scholar! Go for it. The family supports you!"
"Okay!" Gu Chen nodded eagerly.
Returning home, he finally felt free to pursue what he wanted.
There were many books in the house, and sometimes he felt frustrated by missing or faded characters that made certain passages hard to understand.
Days passed.
Masato gradually noticed that Gu Chen was beginning to carry himself with a faint scholarly air.
In Inazuma, a nation that revered martial strength, where people admired the Raiden Shogun's swordsmanship and the Musou no Hitotachi, boys dreamed of becoming samurai. Even those who couldn't would still train in swordsmanship, carrying blades at their sides.
In such a culture, Gu Chen's bookish demeanor made him stand out.
"Kid, don't just bury your head in books all day," Masato eventually advised. "You should exercise too. Your body is your foundation! Don't end up so frail you look like a girl!"
"Don't worry, Uncle. I won't," Gu Chen replied, shaking his head.
Even at such a young age, he stood straight and spoke calmly—neither arrogant nor timid.
His youthful face and gentle scholarly aura made people instinctively like him, and talking with him always felt comfortable.
After meals, he would teach Masato's younger son how to read and write before returning home to immerse himself in books again.
He took Masato's advice seriously.
His life became structured—reading, then training in swordsmanship under Masato. He didn't learn much, but it was enough to keep him healthy.
A year passed.
He had finished all the books at home. Just as he felt a sense of loss, he picked one up again—and discovered something new.
"As the ancients said, 'Reviewing the old brings new understanding.' Truly, they did not deceive me."
This time, he read slowly.
He carefully savored every word, trying to feel the emotions of the authors who wrote them.
Day after day passed.
Masato noticed that the scholarly aura around Gu Chen had deepened—and yet, somehow, become more restrained.
He was now gentle and refined, like a noble young master.
Could such a presence really come from a humble household?
Masato didn't dare take credit. Instead, he scolded his own son jokingly:
"Learn from your brother! All you do is climb trees and dig for shells. The more I look at you, the more annoyed I get!"
Five-year-old Naganohara Shota blinked innocently.
As Gu Chen grew, so did his state of mind.
He began to truly feel the emotions carried within words.
The text in books no longer seemed lifeless.
They came alive before his eyes, each character conveying meaning, combining into vivid scenes.
Sky. Earth. Mountains. Rivers. Seas.
People. Horses. Cats. Dogs. Birds. Cattle.
Sitting in the courtyard, listening to waves crash against the shore, Gu Chen immersed himself in these living paintings.
Another sunny day.
Gu Chen was now twelve.
Taller than his peers, he carried himself with a scholarly grace without appearing frail. He wore a light-colored robe, a book always tucked at his waist.
At Masato's urging, he decided to go out and take a walk—perhaps the wider world would inspire him.
So he left Hanamizaka and arrived at Byakko Plain.
Though Narukami Island was just an island, the open fields felt vast and boundless. The wind brushing past him brought a sense of peace.
At some point, words had become more than just words to him.
He looked at a distant mountain.
To others, it was simply a mountain.
But to him, it was also the character "山" (mountain).
He didn't understand why—and didn't dwell on it.
It didn't interfere with his life.
Drip.
"Hm?"
A drop of water landed on his cheek.
He wiped it away and looked up.
In an instant, dark clouds surged across the sky, swallowing the light. Thunder roared, and a torrential rain was about to fall.
"What strange weather…" Gu Chen chuckled.
Turning back toward home, he walked at an unhurried pace.
The wind howled.
Thunder cracked.
Rain poured down.
Watching each falling "rain", Gu Chen fell into thought.
He took the book from his waist and wrote a single character:
"伞" (umbrella).
The moment the character formed, it appeared to him as a real oil-paper umbrella.
After a brief hesitation—wondering if he had gone mad—he reached out and grasped it.
The written character stretched, transformed—
—and became a real umbrella in his hand.
"Oh?"
Gu Chen was surprised, then smiled.
Just as the rain began to drench him, he opened the umbrella and continued walking home.
As he walked, he observed everything around him:
"Mud." "Pebbles." "Puddles."
The swaying "grass." The brushing "wind." The falling "rain."
To others, they were simply parts of nature.
But in his eyes, they were living characters—vivid and full of meaning.
Walking in the rain cleared his mind.
He enjoyed this strange, beautiful world that belonged only to him.
At a fork in the road, a flash of color caught his eye in the grass.
Gu Chen looked down.
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