Life in Teyvat: Night with Hu Tao

The last customer had shuffled out of Wangsheng Funeral Parlor an hour ago, leaving behind the faint scent of incense and polished cedar. Liyue Harbor’s lanterns were beginning their twilight ballet, casting long amber fingers across the empty street. Most people saw night as a closing door. Hu Tao saw it as an opening act.

I found her on the back steps, leading down to the Yujing Terrace’s lower gardens. She wasn’t scheming or pranking for once. She was sitting cross-legged on the cold stone, her hat set aside, letting the autumn breeze play with her dark, twin-tailed hair. In her lap was a small, unlit paper lantern.

“You’re late,” she said without turning around. Her voice wasn’t its usual bright, teasing chirp. It was quieter. Like embers instead of a bonfire.

“The ledgers took forever,” I said, sitting down next to her. The stone bit through my clothes. “Zhongli insists on cataloging every single stick of incense by dynasty.”

She laughed—a short, soft puff of air. “That old block of granite. He means well. He just forgets that ghosts don’t care about dynasties. They care about being seen.”

She finally looked at me. In the dimming light, her crimson eyes didn’t look mischievous. They looked ancient. Tired, but in a gentle way, like a door that had been opened for too many travelers.

“Do you want to see something?” she asked.

I nodded.

She plucked a single match from her sleeve—where she kept a hundred oddities—and struck it against the step. The flare was sudden and warm, illuminating the sharp, playful angles of her face for just a second. She touched the flame to the lantern’s wick. The paper glowed from within, a soft, defiant orange against the encroaching blue of night.

“This is for the ones who walk alone,” she whispered.

She let go.

The lantern didn’t fall. It rose. It drifted upward, lazy and certain, past the rooftops, past the hanging red tassels of the inn across the street, until it became a small, wandering star. I watched it join the constellations, indistinguishable now from the real ones.

“There’s a myth,” Hu Tao said, leaning her head back against the step’s railing. “People think I like death. That I’m weird or morbid or that I’ve got a few screws loose because I sing poems to graves.”

“Don’t you?” I asked, smiling a little.

She grinned—the real Hu Tao peeking through. “Oh, absolutely. But not for the reason they think.” She turned to me, and for once, her gaze held no riddles. “I like death because it’s honest. The dead don’t lie. They don’t ghost you on purpose—well, most of them don’t.” She winked. “But the living? The living are terrified. They walk around with their own ghosts stuffed inside their chests—regret, grief, words they never said—and they call me the strange one.”

The night grew cooler. Somewhere below, a vendor was closing his stall, the clatter of wood on wood echoing up the cliffside. Hu Tao reached over and, without asking, took my hand. Her fingers were small and surprisingly cold.

“You have one too,” she said softly. “A ghost inside. I can see it. It sits behind your eyes sometimes when you think I’m not looking.”

I didn’t pull away. “Is that why you brought me out here? To exorcise it?”

“Nope.” She squeezed once, then let go. She picked up her hat, placed it back on her head, and the shadows fell across her face in that familiar, coy geometry. “I brought you out here to remind you that the night is also for the living. Come on.”

She stood up, brushed off her skirt, and offered me her hand again—this time with a full, radiant, mischievous smile.

“The ghosts can wait until morning. Right now, I know a teahouse that stays open late, and the owner makes almond tofu that’ll make you believe in reincarnation. My treat. Well,” she added, her eyes sparkling, “Wangsheng’s treat. Expense it under ‘spiritual consultation.’”

I took her hand. The stone steps were cold, her fingers were colder, but the little lantern was still climbing somewhere above Liyue, carrying its small flame into the indifferent dark.

And somehow, sitting next to the funeral director on a quiet night, the world felt a little less haunted.

“You’re impossible,” I said.

“Improbably charming,” she corrected, pulling me to my feet. “Now hurry up. The dead are patient. The tofu is not.”

We disappeared into the lantern-lit streets of Liyue, leaving only the echo of her laughter—and one small, fading light in the sky.

A night spent with Hu Tao is never just a "quiet evening"—it’s a whirlwind of paradoxes, shifting between eerie ghost stories and a surprisingly profound appreciation for life.

As the sun dips below the mountains of Liyue, the atmosphere around the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor changes. While most of the Harbor prepares for sleep, Hu Tao is just getting started. The Ambience: Lanterns and Shadows

The evening usually begins with a stroll through the Chihu Rock. Hu Tao doesn’t walk so much as she skips, her wooden talismans clicking rhythmically against her hat. She’ll likely drag you to a street food stall for some Boiled Fish, chatting animatedly about her latest "Buy One, Get One Free" promotion—much to the visible discomfort of the nearby patrons. The Activity: "Poetry" in the Woods

By midnight, you’ll likely find yourselves at Wuwang Hill. This is her playground.

The Pranks: Don’t be surprised if she vanishes into the mist, only to reappear behind you with a "Boo!" and a giggle that echoes a bit too perfectly.

The Philosophy: Between the jumpscares, the tone shifts. Sitting by a blue-flamed campfire, she might recite a poem. While her rhymes are often silly, they carry a weight of truth about the "border" between life and death. She views the night not as a time to fear, but as the natural conclusion to a day well-spent. The Quiet End

As the first light of dawn touches the peak of Mt. Tianheng, the high energy fades. Hu Tao becomes uncharacteristically still, watching the spirits retreat and the living world wake up. She might offer a small, sincere smile—one that isn't part of a sales pitch—thanking you for "balancing the yin and yang" of her night. To help me capture the right "vibe" for this text, tell me:

Should the tone be spooky and mischievous or sentimental and cozy?

Is there a specific location in Liyue you want the night to focus on?

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)?

This report details the nocturnal activities, character depth, and professional responsibilities of , the 77th Director of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor in Liyue Harbor. 🏮 Professional Duties: Safeguarding the Border

At night, Hu Tao transitions from a playful prankster to a solemn guardian of the "border" between life and death.

Funeral Rites: She leads undertakers through lamp-lit alleys to conduct flawless last rites, ensuring the balance of yin and yang remains undisturbed.

The Border: Hu Tao is one of the few who can travel to the literal border of life and death to interact with lingering spirits.

Wangsheng Legacy: The parlor, which has existed since the Archon War, focuses on purging "fetor" (karmic miasma) and maintaining the natural order. ✍️ Artistic Pursuits: The Midnight Poet

When not managing the dead, Hu Tao is a celebrated and eccentric poet.

Hilitune: Her most famous work, the "Hilitune," is a grim but catchy nursery rhyme sung by children and even spirits as far as Qingce Village.

Creative Strolls: She is known to wander the mountains and seas by the "oil of midnight" to gather inspiration for her verses.

Social Circle: She frequently participates in poetry battles and social gatherings, often with fellow author Xingqiu | Genshin Impact Wiki or her "easy-to-scare" friend Xiangling | Genshin Impact Wiki. 🎭 Character Analysis: Beyond the Pranks

While Liyue citizens often find her antics annoying—like bathing stone lions or trying to "save" Qiqi through burial—her behavior is a deeply personal philosophy. Hu Tao/Profile - Genshin Impact Wiki

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 Nightlife of Teyvat: A Magical Evening with Hu Tao

In the vast and mystical world of Teyvat, the nights are filled with enchantment and possibility. Among the seven nations, each with its unique culture and charm, the evenings come alive with excitement and adventure. One such captivating night unfolds in the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, where the enigmatic and charismatic Hu Tao resides.

The Wangsheng Funeral Parlor: A Hub of Mystery and Wonder

As the sun dips below the horizon, casting a warm orange glow over Liyue, the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor transforms into a beacon of intrigue. The parlor, nestled in the heart of Liyue Harbor, is a place where the living and the dead coexist in a delicate balance. Hu Tao, the 77th Director of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, reigns over this domain with an air of mystique and authority.

As night falls, the parlor's interior comes alive with soft lanterns, casting a warm, ethereal light on the surroundings. The air is filled with the sweet scent of incense and the sound of whispers, as if the spirits of the departed are sharing secrets with the living.

Hu Tao: The Enigmatic Director

Hu Tao, with her striking appearance and captivating demeanor, is the epitome of elegance and poise. Her raven-black hair cascades down her back like a waterfall of night, and her piercing gaze seems to see right through to the soul. As the Director of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, she has mastered the art of guiding spirits to the afterlife, and her expertise is sought after by many.

Despite her professional demeanor, Hu Tao exudes an aura of playfulness and wit, making her a fascinating companion on a night out in Teyvat. As the evening wears on, she might regale you with tales of her adventures, her voice low and husky, like a gentle breeze on a summer night.

A Nighttime Stroll through Liyue Harbor

As the stars begin to twinkle in the night sky, Hu Tao invites you to join her on a stroll through Liyue Harbor. The streets are alive with the sounds of merchants hawking their wares, and the smell of street food wafts through the air, enticing passersby to sample the local delicacies.

As you walk, Hu Tao points out various landmarks, sharing stories of Liyue's rich history and culture. You might catch a glimpse of the Qixing, the seven members of the Liyue Qixing, as they go about their evening routines, or see the beautiful Adara, celestial beings who watch over the harbor.

A Visit to the Liyue Night Market

As the night deepens, Hu Tao leads you to the Liyue Night Market, a vibrant and bustling hub of activity. The market stalls are filled with an array of exotic goods, from rare spices to unusual trinkets. The air is filled with the sounds of laughter and haggling, as merchants and customers engage in lively negotiations.

Hu Tao, being an aficionado of the night market, expertly navigates the stalls, sampling various delicacies and pointing out rare finds. You might even catch a glimpse of some of Liyue's most skilled artisans, showcasing their wares and demonstrating their craft.

The Wangsheng Funeral Parlor's Hidden Secrets

As the evening draws to a close, Hu Tao invites you back to the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, where she reveals some of the parlor's hidden secrets. You might discover a hidden room, filled with ancient artifacts and mysterious relics, or learn about the parlor's intricate network of tunnels and passageways.

As the night wears on, the boundaries between the living and the dead begin to blur, and the magic of Teyvat's nightlife comes alive. With Hu Tao as your guide, you are privy to a world that few others have experienced, a world of wonder and enchantment that will leave you spellbound and eager for more.

Conclusion

A night with Hu Tao in Teyvat is an unforgettable experience, filled with mystery, wonder, and enchantment. As the Director of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, she offers a glimpse into a world that few others have seen, a world of magic and possibility. Whether exploring the streets of Liyue Harbor, visiting the night market, or uncovering the secrets of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, Hu Tao is the perfect companion for a night out in Teyvat.

As the night draws to a close, and the stars begin to fade, you are left with memories of a magical evening, one that will stay with you forever. And who knows? Perhaps you'll return to Teyvat, eager to experience another night of wonder and adventure with the enigmatic Hu Tao.

Life in Teyvat: A Night with Hu Tao When the sun dips below the peaks of Mt. Tianheng and the lanterns of Liyue Harbor begin to flicker, most people retreat to the warmth of their homes or the lively tables of Wanmin Restaurant. But for Hu Tao, the 77th Director of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, the night is when the "real" work—and the real fun—begins.

Living a night in Teyvat alongside Hu Tao is a surreal journey through the "border" between the living and the dead, filled with eerie poetry, unexpected wisdom, and a fair share of pranks. The Midnight Poet of the Alleyways

Hu Tao's nights often start not with funeral rites, but with verse. Known as the "Alleyway Dark Poet," she roams Liyue by the light of the moon, composing doggerel that ranges from the whimsical to the profound. You might find her perched on a rooftop or wandering near the Ministry of Civil Affairs, meticulously caring for the stone lions she treats as pets.

Her most famous work, the Hilichurl Ballad, is a staple of Liyue's nightlife, often sung by children and adults alike. To Hu Tao, poetry isn't just a hobby; it's a way to demystify the grim reality of her profession, turning the heavy topic of death into something rhythmic and approachable. Business and Spirits at Wuwang Hill

As the night deepens, the atmosphere shifts from playful to professional. Hu Tao frequently visits Wuwang Hill, a misty, ghost-infested region that acts as the "border" where spirits linger before passing on. While the average traveler might find the hill’s "ghost walls" (the Chinese phenomenon known as Gui Da Qiang) terrifying, Hu Tao navigates them with ease, often accompanied by her playful ghost companion, affectionately called "Boo Tao" by fans.

Guardian of Balance: Her primary duty at night is to ensure the balance between the two worlds. This means comforting restless spirits and guiding them toward the afterlife.

A Serious Side: Despite her usual "Aiya!"-infused cheer, she becomes solemn and dignified when performing actual rites, leading her undertakers through lamp-lit alleys with a gravity that surprises those who only know her as a prankster. The Wangsheng Atmosphere

Back at the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, the night is spent managing the business of "sending people on their way". You might catch a glimpse of her "esteemed consultant," Zhongli, who handles the ancient traditions while Hu Tao focuses on more "creative" business expansions—like her infamous "buy one, get one free" coffin coupons.

While her methods—like trying to bury the zombie Qiqi out of a misplaced sense of duty—are often misunderstood, they stem from a deep-seated belief that "what should die, should die" to preserve the natural order. Why We Wander the Night

A night with Hu Tao reveals the core of her philosophy: to know and respect death is to truly understand the value of life. Whether she’s terrifying the Millelith with a well-timed "boo" or sitting silently at the edge of the border, she serves as a reminder that life in Teyvat is fleeting, and every moment under the stars is meant to be lived to the fullest. Analysis of Hu Tao character Genshin Impact - HoYoLAB

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.

Phase 1: Dusk – The "Business" Meeting

I met her at the parlor’s back entrance at 7 PM. She wasn't drafting contracts or polishing urns. She was trying to teach a stray cat to do a handstand.

“Oh! You’re early!” she chirped, flipping backward onto a stone railing. “I was just doing market research. Cats have nine lives, you know. Imagine the funeral package potential!”

Tonight’s itinerary, according to Hu Tao, had three rules:

  1. No yawning (it "attracts bored spirits").
  2. You must try her new "Ciccone Green Tea" (a suspicious neon color).
  3. Absolutely no crying—unless it’s laughter.

We began with a walk to the Yujing Terrace. While the rest of Liyue was heading home for dinner, Hu Tao was checking in on the other residents.

04:00 – The Walk Back

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.

22:00 – The Prank War Escalation

Just when you think you’re having a tender moment, she ruins it.

“Tag! You’re it!” she yells, slapping a sticky talisman on your back. The talisman ignites with harmless blue fire, illuminating your entire body like a beacon. Suddenly, every ghost in the field stares at you.

“They think you look delicious,” she whispers. “Run.”

What follows is a chaotic sprint across the Liyue countryside. You leap over rocks, slide under branches, and dodge spectral hands trying to tickle you. Hu Tao is ahead of you, laughing like a manic flute. She uses her elemental skill to phase through a hilichurl camp, leaving the monsters confused and on fire. You are not so lucky. You trip over a cooking pot.

She doubles back, effortlessly dispatching a Geo Slime with a single strike from her polearm.

“You’re slow, Traveler!” She offers you a hand, then immediately pulls it away. “Just kidding. Get up yourself. It builds character.”

You hate her. You also can’t stop laughing.

Life in Teyvat- Night with Hu Tao

Homeguard Blog

Tao __exclusive__ | Life In Teyvat- Night With Hu

Life in Teyvat: Night with Hu Tao

The last customer had shuffled out of Wangsheng Funeral Parlor an hour ago, leaving behind the faint scent of incense and polished cedar. Liyue Harbor’s lanterns were beginning their twilight ballet, casting long amber fingers across the empty street. Most people saw night as a closing door. Hu Tao saw it as an opening act.

I found her on the back steps, leading down to the Yujing Terrace’s lower gardens. She wasn’t scheming or pranking for once. She was sitting cross-legged on the cold stone, her hat set aside, letting the autumn breeze play with her dark, twin-tailed hair. In her lap was a small, unlit paper lantern.

“You’re late,” she said without turning around. Her voice wasn’t its usual bright, teasing chirp. It was quieter. Like embers instead of a bonfire.

“The ledgers took forever,” I said, sitting down next to her. The stone bit through my clothes. “Zhongli insists on cataloging every single stick of incense by dynasty.”

She laughed—a short, soft puff of air. “That old block of granite. He means well. He just forgets that ghosts don’t care about dynasties. They care about being seen.”

She finally looked at me. In the dimming light, her crimson eyes didn’t look mischievous. They looked ancient. Tired, but in a gentle way, like a door that had been opened for too many travelers.

“Do you want to see something?” she asked.

I nodded.

She plucked a single match from her sleeve—where she kept a hundred oddities—and struck it against the step. The flare was sudden and warm, illuminating the sharp, playful angles of her face for just a second. She touched the flame to the lantern’s wick. The paper glowed from within, a soft, defiant orange against the encroaching blue of night.

“This is for the ones who walk alone,” she whispered.

She let go.

The lantern didn’t fall. It rose. It drifted upward, lazy and certain, past the rooftops, past the hanging red tassels of the inn across the street, until it became a small, wandering star. I watched it join the constellations, indistinguishable now from the real ones.

“There’s a myth,” Hu Tao said, leaning her head back against the step’s railing. “People think I like death. That I’m weird or morbid or that I’ve got a few screws loose because I sing poems to graves.”

“Don’t you?” I asked, smiling a little.

She grinned—the real Hu Tao peeking through. “Oh, absolutely. But not for the reason they think.” She turned to me, and for once, her gaze held no riddles. “I like death because it’s honest. The dead don’t lie. They don’t ghost you on purpose—well, most of them don’t.” She winked. “But the living? The living are terrified. They walk around with their own ghosts stuffed inside their chests—regret, grief, words they never said—and they call me the strange one.”

The night grew cooler. Somewhere below, a vendor was closing his stall, the clatter of wood on wood echoing up the cliffside. Hu Tao reached over and, without asking, took my hand. Her fingers were small and surprisingly cold.

“You have one too,” she said softly. “A ghost inside. I can see it. It sits behind your eyes sometimes when you think I’m not looking.”

I didn’t pull away. “Is that why you brought me out here? To exorcise it?”

“Nope.” She squeezed once, then let go. She picked up her hat, placed it back on her head, and the shadows fell across her face in that familiar, coy geometry. “I brought you out here to remind you that the night is also for the living. Come on.”

She stood up, brushed off her skirt, and offered me her hand again—this time with a full, radiant, mischievous smile.

“The ghosts can wait until morning. Right now, I know a teahouse that stays open late, and the owner makes almond tofu that’ll make you believe in reincarnation. My treat. Well,” she added, her eyes sparkling, “Wangsheng’s treat. Expense it under ‘spiritual consultation.’”

I took her hand. The stone steps were cold, her fingers were colder, but the little lantern was still climbing somewhere above Liyue, carrying its small flame into the indifferent dark.

And somehow, sitting next to the funeral director on a quiet night, the world felt a little less haunted.

“You’re impossible,” I said.

“Improbably charming,” she corrected, pulling me to my feet. “Now hurry up. The dead are patient. The tofu is not.”

We disappeared into the lantern-lit streets of Liyue, leaving only the echo of her laughter—and one small, fading light in the sky.

A night spent with Hu Tao is never just a "quiet evening"—it’s a whirlwind of paradoxes, shifting between eerie ghost stories and a surprisingly profound appreciation for life.

As the sun dips below the mountains of Liyue, the atmosphere around the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor changes. While most of the Harbor prepares for sleep, Hu Tao is just getting started. The Ambience: Lanterns and Shadows

The evening usually begins with a stroll through the Chihu Rock. Hu Tao doesn’t walk so much as she skips, her wooden talismans clicking rhythmically against her hat. She’ll likely drag you to a street food stall for some Boiled Fish, chatting animatedly about her latest "Buy One, Get One Free" promotion—much to the visible discomfort of the nearby patrons. The Activity: "Poetry" in the Woods

By midnight, you’ll likely find yourselves at Wuwang Hill. This is her playground.

The Pranks: Don’t be surprised if she vanishes into the mist, only to reappear behind you with a "Boo!" and a giggle that echoes a bit too perfectly.

The Philosophy: Between the jumpscares, the tone shifts. Sitting by a blue-flamed campfire, she might recite a poem. While her rhymes are often silly, they carry a weight of truth about the "border" between life and death. She views the night not as a time to fear, but as the natural conclusion to a day well-spent. The Quiet End

As the first light of dawn touches the peak of Mt. Tianheng, the high energy fades. Hu Tao becomes uncharacteristically still, watching the spirits retreat and the living world wake up. She might offer a small, sincere smile—one that isn't part of a sales pitch—thanking you for "balancing the yin and yang" of her night. To help me capture the right "vibe" for this text, tell me:

Should the tone be spooky and mischievous or sentimental and cozy?

Is there a specific location in Liyue you want the night to focus on?

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. Life in Teyvat- Night with Hu Tao

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)?

This report details the nocturnal activities, character depth, and professional responsibilities of , the 77th Director of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor in Liyue Harbor. 🏮 Professional Duties: Safeguarding the Border

At night, Hu Tao transitions from a playful prankster to a solemn guardian of the "border" between life and death.

Funeral Rites: She leads undertakers through lamp-lit alleys to conduct flawless last rites, ensuring the balance of yin and yang remains undisturbed.

The Border: Hu Tao is one of the few who can travel to the literal border of life and death to interact with lingering spirits.

Wangsheng Legacy: The parlor, which has existed since the Archon War, focuses on purging "fetor" (karmic miasma) and maintaining the natural order. ✍️ Artistic Pursuits: The Midnight Poet

When not managing the dead, Hu Tao is a celebrated and eccentric poet.

Hilitune: Her most famous work, the "Hilitune," is a grim but catchy nursery rhyme sung by children and even spirits as far as Qingce Village.

Creative Strolls: She is known to wander the mountains and seas by the "oil of midnight" to gather inspiration for her verses.

Social Circle: She frequently participates in poetry battles and social gatherings, often with fellow author Xingqiu | Genshin Impact Wiki or her "easy-to-scare" friend Xiangling | Genshin Impact Wiki. 🎭 Character Analysis: Beyond the Pranks

While Liyue citizens often find her antics annoying—like bathing stone lions or trying to "save" Qiqi through burial—her behavior is a deeply personal philosophy. Hu Tao/Profile - Genshin Impact Wiki

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" Life in Teyvat: Night with Hu Tao The

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 Nightlife of Teyvat: A Magical Evening with Hu Tao

In the vast and mystical world of Teyvat, the nights are filled with enchantment and possibility. Among the seven nations, each with its unique culture and charm, the evenings come alive with excitement and adventure. One such captivating night unfolds in the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, where the enigmatic and charismatic Hu Tao resides.

The Wangsheng Funeral Parlor: A Hub of Mystery and Wonder

As the sun dips below the horizon, casting a warm orange glow over Liyue, the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor transforms into a beacon of intrigue. The parlor, nestled in the heart of Liyue Harbor, is a place where the living and the dead coexist in a delicate balance. Hu Tao, the 77th Director of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, reigns over this domain with an air of mystique and authority.

As night falls, the parlor's interior comes alive with soft lanterns, casting a warm, ethereal light on the surroundings. The air is filled with the sweet scent of incense and the sound of whispers, as if the spirits of the departed are sharing secrets with the living.

Hu Tao: The Enigmatic Director

Hu Tao, with her striking appearance and captivating demeanor, is the epitome of elegance and poise. Her raven-black hair cascades down her back like a waterfall of night, and her piercing gaze seems to see right through to the soul. As the Director of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, she has mastered the art of guiding spirits to the afterlife, and her expertise is sought after by many.

Despite her professional demeanor, Hu Tao exudes an aura of playfulness and wit, making her a fascinating companion on a night out in Teyvat. As the evening wears on, she might regale you with tales of her adventures, her voice low and husky, like a gentle breeze on a summer night.

A Nighttime Stroll through Liyue Harbor

As the stars begin to twinkle in the night sky, Hu Tao invites you to join her on a stroll through Liyue Harbor. The streets are alive with the sounds of merchants hawking their wares, and the smell of street food wafts through the air, enticing passersby to sample the local delicacies.

As you walk, Hu Tao points out various landmarks, sharing stories of Liyue's rich history and culture. You might catch a glimpse of the Qixing, the seven members of the Liyue Qixing, as they go about their evening routines, or see the beautiful Adara, celestial beings who watch over the harbor.

A Visit to the Liyue Night Market

As the night deepens, Hu Tao leads you to the Liyue Night Market, a vibrant and bustling hub of activity. The market stalls are filled with an array of exotic goods, from rare spices to unusual trinkets. The air is filled with the sounds of laughter and haggling, as merchants and customers engage in lively negotiations.

Hu Tao, being an aficionado of the night market, expertly navigates the stalls, sampling various delicacies and pointing out rare finds. You might even catch a glimpse of some of Liyue's most skilled artisans, showcasing their wares and demonstrating their craft.

The Wangsheng Funeral Parlor's Hidden Secrets

As the evening draws to a close, Hu Tao invites you back to the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, where she reveals some of the parlor's hidden secrets. You might discover a hidden room, filled with ancient artifacts and mysterious relics, or learn about the parlor's intricate network of tunnels and passageways.

As the night wears on, the boundaries between the living and the dead begin to blur, and the magic of Teyvat's nightlife comes alive. With Hu Tao as your guide, you are privy to a world that few others have experienced, a world of wonder and enchantment that will leave you spellbound and eager for more.

Conclusion

A night with Hu Tao in Teyvat is an unforgettable experience, filled with mystery, wonder, and enchantment. As the Director of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, she offers a glimpse into a world that few others have seen, a world of magic and possibility. Whether exploring the streets of Liyue Harbor, visiting the night market, or uncovering the secrets of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, Hu Tao is the perfect companion for a night out in Teyvat.

As the night draws to a close, and the stars begin to fade, you are left with memories of a magical evening, one that will stay with you forever. And who knows? Perhaps you'll return to Teyvat, eager to experience another night of wonder and adventure with the enigmatic Hu Tao.

Life in Teyvat: A Night with Hu Tao When the sun dips below the peaks of Mt. Tianheng and the lanterns of Liyue Harbor begin to flicker, most people retreat to the warmth of their homes or the lively tables of Wanmin Restaurant. But for Hu Tao, the 77th Director of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, the night is when the "real" work—and the real fun—begins.

Living a night in Teyvat alongside Hu Tao is a surreal journey through the "border" between the living and the dead, filled with eerie poetry, unexpected wisdom, and a fair share of pranks. The Midnight Poet of the Alleyways

Hu Tao's nights often start not with funeral rites, but with verse. Known as the "Alleyway Dark Poet," she roams Liyue by the light of the moon, composing doggerel that ranges from the whimsical to the profound. You might find her perched on a rooftop or wandering near the Ministry of Civil Affairs, meticulously caring for the stone lions she treats as pets.

Her most famous work, the Hilichurl Ballad, is a staple of Liyue's nightlife, often sung by children and adults alike. To Hu Tao, poetry isn't just a hobby; it's a way to demystify the grim reality of her profession, turning the heavy topic of death into something rhythmic and approachable. Business and Spirits at Wuwang Hill

As the night deepens, the atmosphere shifts from playful to professional. Hu Tao frequently visits Wuwang Hill, a misty, ghost-infested region that acts as the "border" where spirits linger before passing on. While the average traveler might find the hill’s "ghost walls" (the Chinese phenomenon known as Gui Da Qiang) terrifying, Hu Tao navigates them with ease, often accompanied by her playful ghost companion, affectionately called "Boo Tao" by fans.

Guardian of Balance: Her primary duty at night is to ensure the balance between the two worlds. This means comforting restless spirits and guiding them toward the afterlife.

A Serious Side: Despite her usual "Aiya!"-infused cheer, she becomes solemn and dignified when performing actual rites, leading her undertakers through lamp-lit alleys with a gravity that surprises those who only know her as a prankster. The Wangsheng Atmosphere

Back at the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, the night is spent managing the business of "sending people on their way". You might catch a glimpse of her "esteemed consultant," Zhongli, who handles the ancient traditions while Hu Tao focuses on more "creative" business expansions—like her infamous "buy one, get one free" coffin coupons.

While her methods—like trying to bury the zombie Qiqi out of a misplaced sense of duty—are often misunderstood, they stem from a deep-seated belief that "what should die, should die" to preserve the natural order. Why We Wander the Night

A night with Hu Tao reveals the core of her philosophy: to know and respect death is to truly understand the value of life. Whether she’s terrifying the Millelith with a well-timed "boo" or sitting silently at the edge of the border, she serves as a reminder that life in Teyvat is fleeting, and every moment under the stars is meant to be lived to the fullest. Analysis of Hu Tao character Genshin Impact - HoYoLAB

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.

Phase 1: Dusk – The "Business" Meeting

I met her at the parlor’s back entrance at 7 PM. She wasn't drafting contracts or polishing urns. She was trying to teach a stray cat to do a handstand.

“Oh! You’re early!” she chirped, flipping backward onto a stone railing. “I was just doing market research. Cats have nine lives, you know. Imagine the funeral package potential!”

Tonight’s itinerary, according to Hu Tao, had three rules:

  1. No yawning (it "attracts bored spirits").
  2. You must try her new "Ciccone Green Tea" (a suspicious neon color).
  3. Absolutely no crying—unless it’s laughter.

We began with a walk to the Yujing Terrace. While the rest of Liyue was heading home for dinner, Hu Tao was checking in on the other residents.

04:00 – The Walk Back

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.

22:00 – The Prank War Escalation

Just when you think you’re having a tender moment, she ruins it.

“Tag! You’re it!” she yells, slapping a sticky talisman on your back. The talisman ignites with harmless blue fire, illuminating your entire body like a beacon. Suddenly, every ghost in the field stares at you.

“They think you look delicious,” she whispers. “Run.”

What follows is a chaotic sprint across the Liyue countryside. You leap over rocks, slide under branches, and dodge spectral hands trying to tickle you. Hu Tao is ahead of you, laughing like a manic flute. She uses her elemental skill to phase through a hilichurl camp, leaving the monsters confused and on fire. You are not so lucky. You trip over a cooking pot.

She doubles back, effortlessly dispatching a Geo Slime with a single strike from her polearm. Title: Whispers Amidst the Wail Setting: Liyue Harbor,

“You’re slow, Traveler!” She offers you a hand, then immediately pulls it away. “Just kidding. Get up yourself. It builds character.”

You hate her. You also can’t stop laughing.

    To: