Life In Teyvat- Night With Hu Tao -

A night spent in her company begins not with tears, but with a cheerful, slightly eerie song about hillichurls getting sick and dying, sung with absolute, unironic glee. Wandering the Wuwang Hill

Fluttering beside her is Boo Tao, her mysterious, ghost-like familiar. It’s not quite a ghost, not quite a spirit, but the two are inseparable. It mirrors her playful mood, hovering mischievously by her shoulder before zipping off into the darkness, a playful spark of light and shadow.

Her thoughts are a jumble of emotions, a mix of sadness and joy, of loss and gain. Yet, amidst the turmoil, she finds a sense of purpose, a sense of duty to continue her work. For Hu Tao, there is no greater reward than helping others find closure and peace.

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. Life in Teyvat- Night with Hu Tao

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.

As the darkest hours of the night approach, a journey with Hu Tao often concludes at a quiet viewpoint, such as the heights of Mt. Aocang or the grassy cliffs overlooking Luhua Pool. Sitting under Teyvat’s spectacular starry sky, watching the floating constellations and the glowing moon, she finally slows down.

In quiet moments, Hu Tao might confide in you about the weight of her responsibilities, the loneliness that comes with her role, and the fears that she must confront. You might catch a glimpse of the vulnerable side of her personality, a side that she guards carefully from the prying eyes of the world. A night spent in her company begins not

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.”

Our first stop was, surprisingly, the Funeral Parlor itself—after hours. The building, a solemn structure of dark wood and red lanterns, always seemed to hold its breath during the day. At night, it exhaled.

"Ghost cuisine," she declared, skewering the tofu. "To the living, it tastes like chalk. To the dead, it tastes like their mother’s cooking. For you, it’ll just taste like really bad tofu. Sorry in advance." It mirrors her playful mood, hovering mischievously by

She’d send you off with a wink and a smile, perhaps a final, cheerful ghost story or a simple reminder to live today, because tomorrow is promised to no one. And as you walk away, the sound of her quiet humming might just linger in your ears, a tiny, blood-red butterfly at the edge of your vision, and a new appreciation for the wonders of a night well spent in the world of Teyvat.

Spending a night with Hu Tao is a reminder that even in a world filled with danger and serious, cosmic stakes, there is still room for fun, pranks, and the unexpected. She brings warmth to the cold, and light to the dark.