The sky begins to lighten. The stars fade like chalk on asphalt. Hu Tao extinguishes her spirit lantern, and the ghosts all bow—bow!—before dissolving into the morning mist.
You walk back to Liyue Harbor in comfortable silence. The early fishermen are prepping their boats. The scent of fresh dumplings drifts from a street vendor. Life returns.
Hu Tao is quieter now. Her shoulders are relaxed. She isn’t bouncing.
“Thank you,” she says, so softly you almost miss it. “For not treating me like a freak.”
You tell her that she is a freak. But a good one.
She punches your arm. It hurts more than it should.
You stand at the gates of Liyue. Hu Tao yawns widely, revealing tiny fangs. She pulls out her signature hat from... somewhere... and places it on her head.
“Well, Traveler,” she says, stretching. “Tonight’s summary: We fed six ghosts, pranked three hilichurls, solved a 700-year-old postal error, and you only screamed four times. I’d call that a success.”
She turns to leave, then stops. “Hey. If you ever... you know. When your time comes. I’ll make sure your funeral has good music, too. That’s a promise.”
Before you can respond, she’s already skipping down the street, singing a nonsensical rhyme about coffins and butterflies.
You stand there, exhausted, spiritually shaken, and oddly warmed.
That is Life in Teyvat: Night with Hu Tao. It is chaotic, morbid, hilarious, and unexpectedly tender. She teaches you that death is not an enemy—it is a neighbor. And if you’re lucky, that neighbor has a terrible sense of humor and a heart of gold buried under layers of pranks.
So the next time you see a floating ghost in Liyue? Don’t run. Just look for the girl in the hat.
She’s probably already there, offering it a snack.
Did you enjoy this deep dive into Life in Teyvat? Leave a comment below with which character’s night you’d like to survive next. (Please don’t say Paimon. She never sleeps.)
at night takes on a mischievous, poetic, and slightly spooky hue when spent with
, the 77th Director of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor. Whether she is performing solemn rites or pranking the locals, her nights are anything but dull. Nightly Rituals & Duties
Hu Tao treats her responsibilities with the utmost dignity, especially under the cover of darkness. Solemn Processions : She personally leads her undertakers through lamp-lit alleys
for funeral ceremonies, showing a side that is far more serious than her usual cheerful self. Guarding the "Border"
: Hu Tao is stricter than her predecessors in maintaining the balance between life and death. This often involves monitoring Wuwang Hill
, where the line between worlds is thinnest and spirits linger. Late-Night Education
: After the parlor closes, she invites various lecturers—most notably —to teach her undertakers traditional rites and history. Favorite Nightly Hangouts
When not working, Hu Tao roams Liyue looking for poetic inspiration or amusement. Moonlit Docks : She is frequently spotted by the docks of Liyue Harbor , taking in the scenery to shape her thoughts into verses. Ministry of Civil Affairs : At around midnight, she often visits the stone lions, Whiskers and Mittens
, to talk to them or give them a "bath" with a bucket of water and a brush. High Viewpoints
: She loves precarious viewpoints in the mountains, such as those in the Huaguang Stone Forest
, where she might play a solitary four-player card game for hours. Wuwang Hill
: A place of deep personal significance where she once spent days searching for her grandfather's spirit, eventually receiving her Vision there. Night-Time Hobbies Midnight Poetry
: Known as the "versemonger of the darkest alleys," she pens her famous works by the oil of midnight
. Her popular "Hilitune" can even be heard hummed by spirits like Dusky Ming near Wangshu Inn. Pranking and "Burying" : She has a history of trying to "grant peace" to
at night, though she has recently shifted to pampering the little zombie after learning more about her past. Poetic Sparring : She occasionally meets with
in the main hall of Wangsheng to exchange impromptu poetry, with sometimes acting as the umpire. Shopping: Hu Tao's Signature Look
If you are looking to channel the Director's style, consider these iconic elements:
Life in Teyvat: A Night with Hu Tao
The sun had long since dipped below the horizon, casting a warm orange glow over the sleepy town of Liyue. The air was filled with the sweet scent of incense and the soft chirping of evening birds. I had the privilege of spending an evening with the enigmatic and fascinating Hu Tao, Director of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor.
As night fell, Hu Tao led me to the outskirts of Liyue, where the streets were lined with flickering lanterns and the sound of distant music drifted through the air. We walked in comfortable silence, the only sound being the soft crunch of gravel beneath our feet. It was as if the night itself was alive, and we were its companions.
We eventually arrived at a small, serene lake, where a lone boat bobbed gently on the water. Hu Tao gestured for me to board, and we set off into the darkness. The stars twinkled above, casting a million points of light across the rippling water. The air was cool and peaceful, filled with the scent of lotus flowers.
As we drifted across the lake, Hu Tao began to speak in her characteristic, straightforward manner. "People often fear death, but I believe it's the one thing that makes life truly precious. Without the impermanence of life, we would never truly appreciate the beauty of the present moment." Her words were like a gentle breeze on a summer's day, carrying with them a sense of wisdom and understanding.
I asked her about her role as Director of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, and how she came to terms with the constant exposure to death and mourning. Hu Tao's response was uncharacteristically introspective: "It's not about becoming numb to death, but about learning to appreciate the cycle of life. Every ending marks a new beginning, and it's our duty to ensure that those who have passed on are sent off with dignity and respect."
As the night wore on, Hu Tao began to share stories of her past, of the people she had helped and the experiences that had shaped her into the person she is today. Her words were laced with a deep understanding of the human condition, and a compassion that belied her tough exterior.
Eventually, the boat reached the lake's edge, and we stepped back onto dry land. The night air was still filled with music and laughter, but it seemed to have taken on a new depth, a new meaning. As I prepared to leave, Hu Tao turned to me with a hint of a smile. "Remember, life is precious because it's fleeting. Make the most of every moment, and never take anything for granted."
And with that, our night together came to a close. As I looked back, I saw Hu Tao standing alone by the lake, her eyes gazing up at the stars twinkling above. It was a moment that I would carry with me for a long time, a reminder of the beauty and wisdom that can be found in the unlikeliest of places, and in the company of one of Liyue's most fascinating residents. Life in Teyvat- Night with Hu Tao
Title: Whispers Amidst the Wail
Setting: Liyue Harbor, late evening after the last lanterns have drifted out to sea
The night in Liyue Harbor is rarely quiet—not truly. There’s always a story tucked between the creak of docked ships, the gentle hum of street lanterns, or the soft laughter of evening revelers drifting out from Third-Round Knockout. But tonight, an hour past moonrise, I found myself following a narrow cobblestone path that led away from the harbor lights. Up toward the hills, where the breeze carries not salt, but incense.
That’s where I saw her.
Hu Tao—the 77th Director of Wangsheng Funeral Parlor—sat cross-legged atop a weathered stone bench, her ghostly companion, Mr. Zhongli, nowhere in sight for once. Instead, she had a small wooden box open beside her, filled not with business ledgers, but with paper—brilliantly colored, intricately folded paper: cranes, camellias, a tiny boar with lopsided ears.
“Ah,” she called before I could announce myself, not even turning around. Her voice held the same playful lilt as always, like a nursery rhyme sung in a minor key. “Your shadow said hello before your mouth did. Come sit. Night’s just getting interesting.”
I settled onto the opposite end of the bench. Below, Liyue glittered like scattered coins. Above, the stars seemed sharper than usual—or maybe that was just the way the plum blossoms rustled, their scent thick enough to taste.
“You’re not working tonight?” I asked.
Hu Tao’s dark eyes gleamed. “Working? Oh, friend, I’m always working. But tonight’s a different kind of shift.” She held up a folded paper butterfly and breathed on it—not with anemo power, but with a soft hah, as if warming her hands. “See, some people think the living and the dead keep office hours. Nine to five for the breathing. Eternal slumber for the rest.” She placed the butterfly on her palm and flicked it gently; it spiraled into the dark. “But the boundary is thinnest when most people are dreaming. That’s when the stories slip through.”
I’d heard rumors about Hu Tao—that she talks to ghosts, laughs at funerals, and writes her own poetry for the departed. That she once tried to bury a certain consultant alive as a prank. But sitting beside her under the weeping willow, I didn’t feel unease. I felt… curiosity. The same kind that makes a child peek into a half-open closet.
“Do you ever get lonely?” I asked. “Walking between worlds, I mean.”
For the first time, her smile softened—just a crack, like glaze on a ceramic vase. “Sometimes,” she admitted, and the simple word felt heavier than any funeral incense. “But then I remember: everyone I’ve ever walked home to the border carries a piece of the living with them. A laugh. A half-finished song. A grudge they finally forgave right before the end.” She tilted her head. “Tonight, someone’s waiting near Wuwang Hill. Old fisherman. He just wants to know if his granddaughter’s lantern made it down the river before sinking.”
“Did it?”
Hu Tao’s lips curved. “It floated all the way to the sea. I’ll tell him tomorrow night.” She reached into her box and pulled out two sticks of candied hawthorne—sweet and slightly tart, the kind sold at festivals. She handed me one.
“For the living,” she said, smiling fully now, her usual impish self returning like a mask sliding back into place. “We’ve got business tomorrow—a merchant who loved his bonsai trees a bit too much. Rumor says his ghost might try to water them at midnight. But tonight? Tonight, I just wanted company.”
We ate in silence for a while. The harbor bells chimed two hours past midnight. A stray cat padded by, paused, then continued toward the funeral parlor as if it knew the way home.
“Hey,” Hu Tao said eventually, leaning back on her hands. “When my time finally comes—don’t cry too long, okay? Save room to laugh. That’s the real funeral rite.” She winked. “Besides, I’d haunt you just to make sure you’re eating on time.”
I laughed despite myself. And for the rest of the night, until the first pale blush of dawn touched the peaks of Jueyun Karst, we traded stories—some sad, some absurd, all of them alive.
When I finally stood to leave, Hu Tao was already folding another paper crane.
“Same time tomorrow?” she asked, not looking up.
I nodded.
Below, Liyue Harbor began to stir awake. But somehow, I knew—this little bench beyond the lantern light was where real life happened. Right at the edge of everything, with a girl who treated death like an old friend, and the dark like a stage she was born to light.
Would you like this as a short story, a fanfiction opening, or expanded with game-style dialogue choices (like a Genshin hangout event)?
The stars twinkled like diamonds scattered across the velvet expanse of the night sky in Teyvat. The moon, a glowing crescent, cast a silver glow over the bustling streets of Liyue Harbor. It was a night like any other in this vibrant city, with merchants and travelers from all corners of the world hurrying to and fro. Yet, amidst this ordinary backdrop, a sense of unease settled over one particular individual - Hu Tao, the enigmatic and formidable Funeral Parlor Director.
Hu Tao strolled through the crowded streets with an air of mystery, her long black hair flowing behind her like a dark ribbon. Her eyes, gleaming with an otherworldly intensity, seemed to hold a world of secrets and untold stories. As she walked, the people around her couldn't help but feel a shiver run down their spines. It was as if the very presence of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor's director commanded respect and inspired whispers.
As she navigated through the winding alleys, Hu Tao's thoughts drifted to the day's events. A particularly trying funeral had left her feeling drained, the weight of her responsibilities as a psychopomp bearing down on her. Her duties, after all, went far beyond merely guiding souls to the afterlife. She walked a fine line between the world of the living and the realm of the dead, often mediating disputes and unraveling mysteries that tied the two together.
Eventually, Hu Tao found herself standing before a quaint tea house, its lanterns casting a warm glow into the night air. The sign above the door read "Wenxian Tea House," and the enticing aroma of Jasmine tea wafted out, drawing her in. It was a place she visited often, not merely for the exquisite tea but for the refuge it offered from her demanding duties.
Inside, the tea house was alive with the gentle hum of conversation and the soft clinking of tea cups. Hu Tao was greeted by the owner, an elderly woman named Madame Wang, who welcomed her with a warm smile. The director of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor took a seat at a small, elegantly set table by the window, where she could watch the stars twinkling above.
Madame Wang personally attended to Hu Tao, serving her a pot of the finest Jasmine tea. As Hu Tao sipped the fragrant brew, she allowed her thoughts to wander to the more pleasant aspects of her life. Despite the solemn nature of her work, she found solace in the simple pleasures - a beautiful sunset, a well-prepared funeral rite, or the quiet moments spent sipping tea under the stars.
The night wore on, and the tea house gradually emptied of its patrons. Hu Tao, however, remained seated, lost in her reflections. It was during these quiet moments that she felt most connected to the essence of Teyvat, the unseen forces that governed the world and the intricate web of life and death.
As the moon dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the city, Hu Tao rose to leave. Madame Wang, noticing her departure, pressed a small package into her hands - a bundle of steamed buns, freshly prepared for her late-night journey. It was a small gesture, but one that spoke volumes of the affection and respect Madame Wang held for the enigmatic director of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor.
With the package clutched in her hand, Hu Tao stepped back into the night, the stars her only companions. Her path wound through the city, eventually leading her back to the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, its premises shrouded in the quiet darkness of night. There, within its walls, Hu Tao prepared for another day of guiding souls, her spirit bolstered by the simple joys she had discovered under the canopy of Teyvat's starry night.
In Liyue, as in all of Teyvat, every moment held a balance of light and darkness, joy and sorrow. And Hu Tao, with her unique role in the cycle of life and death, embodied this balance. As she drifted off to sleep, surrounded by the silent companionship of the funeral parlor's ancestral altar, she knew that come dawn, she would face whatever challenges lay ahead, armed with the serenity and strength found in the quiet beauty of a Teyvat night.
Life in Teyvat: A Night with Hu Tao
The world of Teyvat is full of mystery and adventure, and as a traveler, I've had the privilege of experiencing its many wonders. But there's something special about spending a night in Liyue, surrounded by the bustling energy of the mortal realm. And who better to share that experience with than the enigmatic and charismatic Hu Tao, Director of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor?
As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm orange glow over the city of Liyue, Hu Tao and I made our way through the crowded streets. The air was alive with the smells of street food, incense, and the distant tang of the sea. We walked in comfortable silence, Hu Tao's confident stride and effortless charm drawing attention from passersby.
As we strolled, Hu Tao pointed out various landmarks and shared stories about the history and culture of Liyue. Her knowledge and passion for her work were evident in every word, and I found myself captivated by her enthusiasm. We stopped at a small temple, where Hu Tao lit a few incense sticks and offered a brief prayer. It was a small moment, but one that spoke volumes about her character and her connection to the people and places of Liyue.
Eventually, we made our way to a small, family-owned restaurant, where we indulged in a delicious dinner of traditional Liyue cuisine. The food was incredible, and Hu Tao's company made the experience even more enjoyable. We talked about everything from the intricacies of Liyue's bureaucratic system to our shared love of adventure and exploration.
As the night wore on, Hu Tao suggested we take a walk along the waterfront. The stars were out in full force, casting a twinkling glow over the city. The sound of the waves and the distant music of a lone pipa player created a magical atmosphere, and I felt grateful to be sharing it with Hu Tao.
As we walked, Hu Tao opened up about her life and work as the Director of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor. She spoke with a quiet confidence and authority, and I was struck by the depth of her compassion and empathy. Despite the often-grim nature of her work, Hu Tao radiates a sense of hope and positivity, and I found myself feeling inspired by her example.
As the night drew to a close, Hu Tao and I parted ways, and I made my way back to my lodgings. It had been an unforgettable evening, one that had given me a deeper appreciation for the city of Liyue and its people. And, of course, a deeper appreciation for the enigmatic and captivating Hu Tao.
Reflections
As I look back on that night with Hu Tao, I'm struck by the many contradictions that make her such a fascinating character. Director of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor by day, and yet... there's a sparkle in her eye, a hint of mischief that suggests there's so much more to her than meets the eye.
In many ways, Hu Tao embodies the spirit of Liyue itself: a city of contrasts, where tradition and innovation coexist, where life and death walk hand in hand. And as I continue on my journey through Teyvat, I know that I'll carry the memories of that night with me, and look forward to the many more adventures that lie ahead.
The Traveler's Take
If you're looking for a truly unforgettable experience in Liyue, I highly recommend seeking out Hu Tao and the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor. Whether you're interested in the intricacies of Liyue's culture or simply looking for a unique and memorable adventure, Hu Tao is sure to deliver.
Just be prepared for a few surprises along the way. After all, as Hu Tao herself would say, "The Wangsheng Funeral Parlor is always ready to serve... but you never know when the Director might have other plans."
By a humble Traveler who survived the experience
In the sprawling, breathtaking world of Teyvat, every character offers a unique lens through which to view daily life. With Zhongli, you experience the weight of history and the refinement of tea ceremonies. With Xiangling, you endure the culinary danger of exploding Slime Condensate. But to spend a night with Hu Tao? That is not merely an evening; it is a philosophical descent into the absurd, a haunted carnival ride, and perhaps the most terrifyingly fun 12 hours you will ever survive.
If you have ever wondered what it truly means to live in Liyue after dark, buckle up. Here is an unfiltered, firsthand account of a Life in Teyvat: Night with Hu Tao.
The lantern light flickers low in Liyue Harbor as the sun dips below the horizon, but for Hu Tao, the 77th Director of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, the day is only just beginning. To spend a night with Hu Tao is to walk the razor-thin line between the macabre and the mischievous, discovering that in the world of Teyvat, death is not a cold finality, but a rhythmic part of life’s song. The Director’s Duality
Under the moonlight, Hu Tao is a whirlwind of contradictions. She is the guardian of the border between life and death, a role she treats with somber, absolute professionality when the rites begin. Yet, the moment the incense clears, she is a prankster, a poet, and a "vermin" to those who prefer the quiet. A night with her involves dodging her attempts to sign you up for a "buy one, get one free" coffin sale, only to find yourself mesmerized by her recitation of the "Hilitune." Her energy is a defiance of the graveyard's stillness; she carries the weight of the departed with a skip in her step. Poetry in the Dark
As you wander toward Wuwang Hill, the atmosphere shifts. The blue mist clings to the trees, and the spirits of Teyvat feel closer than ever. Here, Hu Tao’s "strange" behavior reveals its depth. She doesn't fear the dark or the spirits; she respects them as old friends. Her poetry, often dismissed as nonsensical, is actually a bridge. By making light of the transition to the "other side," she strips death of its terror for the living. A night in her company is a lesson in balance—the understanding that the bright lights of Liyue’s festivals only shine because they are set against the vast, quiet dark. The Weight of the Staff
By the time the stars begin to fade, you realize that Hu Tao’s relentless optimism is her greatest strength. Carrying the Staff of Homa, she stands as a sentry at the edge of the world. Her life is a constant reminder to the citizens of Teyvat: because life is fleeting, it is precious. To live a night with Hu Tao is to accept that while the sun must set, the "Director" will be there to ensure the transition is handled with dignity, a bit of poetry, and perhaps a well-timed scare.
To spend a night with in Teyvat is to walk the thin line between a comedy club and a funeral procession . As the 77th Director of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor
, she is Liyue’s most eccentric paradox: a girl who spends her days pulling pranks and her nights ensuring the dead depart with absolute dignity. The Versemonger of the Darkest Alleys
When the moon rises over Liyue Harbor, Hu Tao often sheds her professional solemnity for the role of the "Alleyway Dark Poet". You might find her at the moonlit docks
or perched on a precarious mountain peak, humming her famous "Hilitune"—a playful yet slightly grim rhyme that has spread as far as Qingce Village. Her humor is an acquired taste; she’s known to make "low-key suggestions to die" while smiling, a tactic she uses to normalize the concept of mortality for the living. Guardians of the Border
A night with her isn't just about poetry. It often involves actual duty at the "Border" near Wuwang Hill , the literal line between life and death. The Ritualist
: While she may be a "troll" in daily life, during ceremonies she is immaculate and stern, following ancient rules to ensure both the living and the departed are satisfied. The Consultant
: You’ll likely cross paths with her most trusted consultant,
. Despite her constant teasing of his "old-fashioned" ways, he is the one person she relies on most to uphold the parlor’s centuries-old standards. The Philosophy of "Moment of Bloom"
Underneath the "Aiya!" and the jump-scares lies a profound philosophy: "Live in life, die in death". Hu Tao believes that it is only by respecting death that one can truly value the fleeting beauty of life. Her Pyro Vision
, earned at thirteen after a multi-day vigil at the Border for her grandfather, symbolizes this burning will to maintain the balance of Teyvat.
A night spent in her company is a reminder that in Teyvat, life is a "Moment of Bloom," and even the dark alleys of the afterlife can be full of wonder if you have the right poet to guide you. or her frequent poetry battles with
The sun dipped below the jagged peaks of Mt. Tianheng, bleeding orange and violet across the Liyue skyline. For most, this was the hour to head home to a warm meal. For Hu Tao, the 77th Director of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlour, the day was just beginning.
She skipped through the Chihu Rock district, her silver-ringed fingers dancing in the air as she hummed a tune about silkworms and blossoms. Her mahogany hat sat slightly askew, the plum blossoms on it catching the first light of the rising moon.
"Aiyah! Customer service waits for no one, living or otherwise!" she chirped to a passing street cat.
She wasn't headed for the parlour. Instead, she made her way toward Wuwang Hill, a place most Liyue locals avoided after dark. The mist there didn't just cling to the ground; it seemed to breathe, curling around the ancient, gnarled trees like a restless spirit.
Upon reaching the boundary where the spirit world thins, Hu Tao didn't slow down. She took a deep breath of the damp, cool air and struck a pose.
"Director Hu is in the house! Any restless souls in need of a coupon? Buy one burial, get one... well, you know the rest!"
Silence followed, save for the crackle of her Pyro Vision as a small, ghostly companion—her constant spectral friend—manifested by her side. It giggled soundlessly, bobbing in the air.
Hu Tao settled onto a mossy stone, pulling a small notebook and a brush from her sleeve. The night was her time for poetry. She watched the blue wisps of Will-o'-the-wisps float between the trees, their cold light reflecting in her unique, blossom-shaped pupils.
"Moonlight on the mossy stone," she whispered, writing with a flourish. "Waiting for a ghost to groan. If they don't show up by three, I’ll have to drink my ginger tea."
As she scribbled, a faint, translucent figure appeared near a fallen stone lantern. It was an elderly man, looking confused and clutching a spectral fishing rod. He didn't look scary—just lost.
Hu Tao’s playful demeanor shifted instantly. It didn't disappear, but it softened into something surprisingly grounded. She approached him, not with a sales pitch, but with a gentle nod.
"Lost your way back to the harbor, Grandpa?" she asked, her voice dropping the theatrical edge. The spirit looked up. "The tide... I missed the tide."
"The tide has turned, and the sea is calm now," Hu Tao said, placing a hand near his shoulder, the warmth of her Vision providing a strange comfort to the cold air. "It’s time to put the rod away. There are bigger catches waiting for you on the other side of the border."
She guided him toward the brightest patch of moonlight. She didn't use force or complex incantations; she simply walked with him, chatting about the price of glaze lilies and the latest gossip from the Northland Bank until the spirit faded into a soft, golden light.
With the task done, Hu Tao stretched her arms wide and yawned. The weight of the boundary was a heavy burden for a young girl, but she wore it as lightly as her silk coat.
"Another satisfied client!" she proclaimed to the empty woods. "Though I really should have mentioned the premium coffin wood upgrade."
She turned back toward the lights of Liyue Harbor, her silhouette small against the vast, star-speckled sky of Teyvat. She began to hum her "Hilitune" again, her footsteps light on the path, perfectly balanced between the world of the living and the silence of the dead. The sky begins to lighten
Life in Teyvat: A Night with Hu Tao
The world of Teyvat, a land of seven nations, each with its own unique culture and history. As a traveler, it's easy to get caught up in the hustle and bustle of exploring this vast and beautiful world. But what happens when the sun dips below the horizon, and the stars begin to twinkle in the night sky? For those lucky enough to call Teyvat home, the night brings a different kind of magic. And for Hu Tao, the Director of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, the night is a time of quiet contemplation and mystery.
As I stepped into the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, located in the heart of Liyue Harbor, I couldn't help but feel a sense of reverence for the sacred work that Hu Tao and her team perform. The parlor, with its elegant traditional Liyue architecture, seemed almost out of place amidst the bustling harbor. Yet, it was here that Hu Tao spent most of her evenings, preparing for the next day's ceremonies and tending to the spirits of the departed.
As I waited for Hu Tao to finish her preparations, I took a moment to observe the intricate details of the parlor. The scent of incense wafted through the air, mingling with the soft glow of lanterns that cast a warm light on the beautifully crafted wooden coffins and ancestral altars. It was a place of solemnity and respect, where the living came to bid farewell to the dead.
Finally, Hu Tao emerged from the back room, her signature smile brightening the space. "Ah, welcome to the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor," she said, her voice low and soothing. "I'm afraid it's not the most... lively of places, but it's home."
As we sat down at a small table, surrounded by the quiet dignity of the parlor, Hu Tao began to share with me her thoughts on life, death, and the balance between the two. "In Liyue, we believe that death is not an end, but a transition. The spirits of the departed continue to watch over us, guiding us on our journey." Her eyes sparkled with a deep understanding, as if she had spent years pondering the mysteries of the universe.
As the night wore on, Hu Tao led me on a walk through the quiet streets of Liyue Harbor, pointing out hidden temples and shrines dedicated to the worship of various deities. We strolled past the bustling night markets, where vendors sold everything from steaming street food to exotic trinkets. The air was filled with the sounds of laughter and music, a lively contrast to the more subdued atmosphere of the funeral parlor.
At one point, Hu Tao stopped in front of a small, unassuming shrine tucked away in a corner of the harbor. "This is a place of particular significance for me," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "It's a reminder that even in death, there is beauty and tranquility to be found."
As the evening drew to a close, Hu Tao turned to me with a mischievous glint in her eye. "Now, I think it's time for a little... entertainment." She produced a small, exquisitely crafted Guqin from her sleeve and began to play a haunting melody. The music seemed to weave a spell around us, transporting us to a realm beyond the mortal world.
As the last notes faded away, Hu Tao smiled at me. "The night is full of secrets and surprises, if one only takes the time to look." And with that, our evening together came to a close.
For those who call Teyvat home, the night is a time of wonder and enchantment. It's a time to connect with the spirits of the land, to honor the dead, and to find solace in the beauty of the world around us. And for Hu Tao, the Director of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, the night is a reminder that even in death, there is life, and that the balance between the two is what makes Teyvat such a rich and vibrant world.
As I bid Hu Tao farewell and made my way back to my own lodgings, I couldn't help but feel grateful for the experience. For in a world as vast and complex as Teyvat, it's the small moments, the quiet connections, and the mysterious energies that make life truly worth living.
Title: Life in Teyvat – Night with Hu Tao Character: Hu Tao (Genshin Impact) Setting: Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, Liyue Harbor (Night)
The lanterns of Liyue Harbor bobbed in the distance, a sea of golden shimmering reflections against the dark water, but up on the porch of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, the world was quiet. The bustling commerce of the day had retired, leaving only the rhythmic chirping of crickets and the distant lapping of the tide.
You sat on a wooden bench, a cup of lukewarm tea in your hands, staring at the moon. It was peaceful—too peaceful.
Squelch.
A sudden, cold sensation pressed against the back of your neck. You jumped, nearly spilling your tea, and spun around.
"Boo!"
Hu Tao stood there, grinning like a cat who had just knocked a vase off a table. She held a slimy, green slime condensate in one hand, wiggling it dangerously close to your face. Her amber eyes sparkled with mischief, reflecting the pale moonlight.
"Scared ya! Didn't I? Didn't I?" she chirped, hopping over the back of the bench to land beside you. She tossed the slime condensate up and caught it, treating the alchemical material like a juggling ball. "Your soul almost jumped right out of your body! I saw it! It was waving at me!"
"Hu Tao," you sighed, clutching your chest. "It’s late. And that’s disgusting. Put it down."
"You’re no fun," she pouted, finally tossing the blob into a nearby jar with a wet plop. She leaned back, stretching her arms high above her head. Her hat—that large, plum-blossom-adorned accessory—was missing, leaving her long brown hair to cascade loosely over her shoulders. Without the hat, she looked smaller, younger, though the energy radiating off her was just as chaotic as ever.
"Business has been slow lately," she lamented, draping herself dramatically over the side of the bench, her head lolling upside down to look at you. "No ghosts to catch, no spirits to guide. Just a bunch of healthy, boring people living their healthy, boring lives. It’s bad for the bottom line!"
"Death is inevitable, Director," you said, blowing on your tea. "Give it time."
She snorted, flipping herself upright with surprising agility. "Give it time, he says! The 77th Director of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor does not wait for time! Time waits for me!" She reached into her sleeve and produced a small, wrapped bundle. "Here. Since you’re keeping me company on this dreadfully quiet night, I saved you a treat."
She placed a Madame Ping’s special almond tofu on the table between you.
"Wait, is this from Wanmin Restaurant?" you asked, eyeing the wrapping.
"Stolen? No! Borrowed? Maybe. Xiangling wasn't looking, and I left a poem as payment," Hu Tao said, crossing her legs beneath her. She watched you expectantly as you took a bite. "Good, right? Smooth. Silky. Almost like... the passage into the afterlife."
"Can you not compare dessert to death for one second?"
"Fine, fine," she giggled, kicking her feet. The playfulness in her voice softened, settling into something warmer. She looked out over the harbor, watching the boats drift.
For a moment, the 'Weirdo of the Undertaking Business' was still. The wind rustled the plum blossom trees nearby, scattering a few petals onto the porch.
"You know," she said quietly, her voice losing its usual manic cadence. "People are afraid of the night. They think it’s when the ghosts come out. But I think it’s nice. The sun is too loud, you know? It demands attention. The night... the night just listens."
She turned to you, a soft, genuine smile replacing her usual manic grin. It was a rare sight—the Director looking content.
"Thanks for keeping watch with me, traveler. Even if you are boring company," she teased, nudging your shoulder with hers. "But hey, if a ghost does pop up, you have to scream really loudly so I can catch it. Deal?"
"Deal," you smiled back.
"Great!" She stood up abruptly, the moment of tranquility shattered instantly. "Now, I’m going to go hide Zhongli’s tea leaves. Want to help?"
You sighed, standing up to follow her. "Let's go."
Life with Hu Tao was never quiet for long.
An evening with Hu Tao juxtaposes levity and solemnity. Her outward playfulness functions as coping and connection—inviting others to confront mortality without despair. The experience suggests that in Teyvat, especially Liyue, rituals and storytelling keep community bonds strong and give the living ways to honor memory while continuing ordinary life.
If you want this expanded into a longer narrative, field report with quotes, or a version focused on ritual details, tell me which and I’ll produce it. Did you enjoy this deep dive into Life in Teyvat