Life In Teyvat- Night With Hu Tao -
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.)
Life in Teyvat: A Night with Hu Tao
The world of Teyvat, a land of ancient traditions, mystical energies, and unforgettable characters. Among the seven nations that comprise this vast and wondrous realm, the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor stands out as a beacon of reverence and respect for the dearly departed. And at the heart of this esteemed institution is none other than Hu Tao, the enigmatic and captivating Director of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor.
As night falls over Liyue, the soft glow of lanterns and the distant sounds of the city create a serene ambiance, perfect for a stroll through the streets of Liyue Harbor. It is on such an evening that one might chance upon Hu Tao, walking alone or sitting on a rooftop, lost in thought. For those who have had the privilege of making her acquaintance, a night with Hu Tao is an experience that lingers long after the clock strikes midnight.
The Mysterious Director
Hu Tao's presence is both captivating and intimidating, much like the mysterious aura that surrounds her. As the Director of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, she is deeply connected to the spiritual realm, guiding the souls of the departed to their final rest. Her role is not simply a profession, but a calling that requires great sensitivity, compassion, and strength.
Despite her reserved demeanor, Hu Tao's eyes sparkle with a knowing glint, as if she holds secrets that few others are privy to. Her calm and collected exterior belies a sharp mind and a quick wit, making her a formidable conversationalist. When engaging with Hu Tao, one must be prepared to navigate a world of subtle humor, clever observations, and unexpected insights.
Under the Stars
As the night wears on, Hu Tao might invite you to join her on a rooftop, where the city lights twinkle like a canvas of stars. The air is filled with the sweet scent of incense and the soft chirping of nocturnal creatures. With a wave of her hand, she might gesture to the constellations above, pointing out the ancient patterns and mythological figures etched into the sky.
In such moments, Hu Tao's passion for astronomy and the mysteries of the universe shine brightly. Her knowledge of the stars and their influence on the world of Teyvat is both impressive and humbling. As you gaze up at the stars together, she might regale you with tales of the old gods, the creation myths of Liyue, or the hidden patterns that govern the movements of the celestial bodies.
The Weight of Responsibility
As Director of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, Hu Tao bears a heavy responsibility, not only for guiding souls to the afterlife but also for maintaining the delicate balance between the mortal world and the spiritual realm. Her duties require her to navigate a complex web of emotions, from the grief of the living to the whispers of the dead.
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.
Whispers of the Past
Hu Tao's long tenure as Director has granted her a unique perspective on the history of Liyue and the evolution of its traditions. As the night wears on, she might begin to share whispers of the past, revealing fragments of her own story, or hinting at events that have shaped the world of Teyvat.
With a knowing smile, she might allude to the secret histories of Liyue's great families, or the forgotten lore of the Qixing. Her words might transport you to a bygone era, where legendary heroes, mythical creatures, and powerful adepti once walked among mortals.
The Flames of Remembrance
As the hours pass, the conversation may turn to the topic of remembrance and the power of memory. Hu Tao's thoughts on the subject are tinged with a deep melancholy, for she has witnessed the fleeting nature of human existence and the impermanence of all things.
And yet, even in the face of mortality, Hu Tao finds solace in the flames of remembrance. The burning of incense, the lighting of lanterns, and the recitation of prayers all serve as testaments to the enduring bond between the living and the dead. In these moments, she might speak of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor's role in honoring the departed, and the sacred rituals that have been entrusted to her care.
Farewell, for Now
As the night draws to a close, Hu Tao might escort you to the door, her presence still radiating an aura of quiet strength and mystery. The encounter may leave you feeling both enlightened and humbled, with a deeper appreciation for the complexities of life in Teyvat.
Though the evening may be over, the memories of your time with Hu Tao will linger, much like the scent of incense on a summer breeze. As you bid her farewell, you can't help but wonder when your paths will cross again, and what new secrets or insights she might share with you on a future night, under the starry skies of Teyvat.
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.
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?
Life in Teyvat: A Night with the 77th Director of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor
The lanterns of Liyue Harbor reflect off the calm waters of the Feiyun Slope, painting the night in hues of amber and gold. While the city slows its breathing and the merchant stalls begin to close, there is one figure for whom the night is just beginning.
Hu Tao, the 77th Director of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, does not walk through the streets—she prances. Life in Teyvat- Night with Hu Tao
The Prankster of the Harbor
To spend an evening with Hu Tao is to accept that predictability is a thing of the past. You meet her near the funeral parlor, but she isn't inside overseeing accounts or arranging incense. She is lurking behind a stone pillar, waiting for the perfect moment to leap out and spook the stoic guard, Zhongli, or perhaps an unsuspecting traveling merchant.
Her laughter is bright and infectious, cutting through the evening mist. With a mischievous glint in her sunset-colored eyes, she spins around, her coat-tails fluttering like the wings of a butterfly.
"Hey, hey! You look like you've seen a ghost!" she teases, leaning in close, her hat tilting precariously on her head. "Or maybe... you’re just happy to see me? Booo~!"
It is a jarring contrast. Here is the woman responsible for the final rites of Liyue’s citizens, the one who guides spirits to the afterlife, acting with the boundless energy of a child who has stayed up past their bedtime. But this is the essence of Hu Tao: she exists in the liminal space between the somber finality of death and the vibrant beauty of life.
A Late-Night Snack
As the clock strikes midnight, the conversation inevitably shifts from pranks to poetry—terrible, impromptu poetry. She recites verses about bath gloves and extra toilet paper, her expression serious until the very last line, where she dissolves into a fit of giggles.
"Let's go!" she declares abruptly, grabbing your wrist. "I know a place."
You follow her up the winding paths of Liyue, away from the warmth of the harbor and toward the cooler altitudes of Wuwang Hill. The destination is a small, secluded stall known only to a few. The owner, an elderly woman who seems unfazed by the girl’s eccentricities, serves a simple dish: vegetarian abalone.
Hu Tao eats with enthusiasm, savoring the texture. "You know," she says, her voice softening for a moment, "people are so weird about the Parlor. They cross the street to avoid me. They think I’m bad luck."
She waves a chopstick in the air dismissively. "But luck is just a perspective! The moon is beautiful tonight, the food is good, and the butterflies are out. What’s unlucky about that?"
The Butterfly and the Flower
The true nature of the night reveals itself when the food is gone. Hu Tao leads you to the edge of Wuwang Hill, where the boundary between the living world and the afterlife feels thinnest. It is a place most Liyue citizens avoid after dark, fearing the wandering spirits.
But Hu Tao walks forward without hesitation. She summons her polearm for a brief moment, not to fight, but to weave a melody. A spectral butterfly, glowing with a soft, azure light, manifests from her palm. It dances around her, a manifestation of her Pyro vision burning away the impurities of the spirit realm, leaving only warmth.
This is the side of her few get to see. In the silence of the hill, surrounded by ghostfire and the hum of cicadas, the "weirdo" facade drops. She stands as a guardian.
"Spirits are
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
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
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. You stand at the gates of Liyue
“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.
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 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.
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 Did you enjoy this deep dive into Life in Teyvat
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:
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.
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
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.
Walk to the Cemetery Terrace (Early Night)
Ritual Demonstration (Night)
Tea and Toasts (Later Night)
Departure (Late Night)
Forget spooky whispers and cold shivers. Hu Tao’s version of a ghost tour involves her holding a single, flame-lit talisman and yelling, “Knock knock!” into empty alleyways.
“You have to be polite!” she explained, waving her hand through a patch of glowing mist I couldn’t see. “Mr. Feng here lost his keys three centuries ago. He’s not scary, he’s annoying.”
She then proceeded to help a ghost find his spectral key under a lantern. How? She asked a Millelith guard if she could borrow his handcuffs to "measure the wind." The guard ran away. Hu Tao found the key.
Informative Takeaway: Contrary to Liyue’s rumors, Hu Tao doesn’t summon death. She views the deceased as neighbors who simply moved to a different street. Her night work is less exorcism and more... chaotic good neighborhood watch.