When the audience saw Tartaglia's figure, the gods all wore satisfied smiles. They immediately called over the innkeeper and ordered the finest wine, the best sweets, and the most expensive tea. As before, everything went on Tartaglia's tab.
Barbatos called out warmly, "Eh heh, Mr. Tartaglia, we're still over here! Come join us!"
Ei said coolly, "You're late today. Remember to come earlier tomorrow."
Zhongli remarked flatly, "Late for storytelling, Tartaglia. At this rate, when will you ever catch up to me?"
Tartaglia: "…"
He was done. Not only did he have to pay for these insufferable gods, but they also lectured him. Unbelievable.
He had to hold things steady until the Tsaritsa arrived. Once she came, he would make sure these gods got what they deserved.
…
As Tartaglia made his way into the inn with an awkward smile, on stage, Li Mo saw the crowd quiet down and resumed his storytelling.
As he spoke, the Electro energy above the inn coalesced once more into vivid projections, showing the story of Hu Tao's grandfather.
Everyone knew that Hu Tao's grandfather was the seventy-fifth director of Wangsheng Funeral Parlor. In the land of Liyue, Wangsheng Funeral Parlor was one of the oldest organizations, even predating the Liyue Qixing, the official governing body.
During the distant Archon War, the chaos of battle brought devastation to the land. Epidemics spread, and death ran rampant. Countless lost souls wandered the mortal realm with nowhere to go, causing great upheaval.
It was during that time that Wangsheng Funeral Parlor was born. The first director, a human, used the power of Wuwang Hill as a guide and created a unique system of funeral rites aimed at guiding lost souls to rest. With the help of the great Geo Archon, Morax, this funeral tradition was spread across Liyue. Over the course of several years, all the wandering souls were guided to Wuwang Hill and from there into the underworld, where they found peace. Balance was restored to life and death, yin and yang.
From then on, Wangsheng Funeral Parlor became Liyue's specialized organization for conducting funeral rites and guiding souls to their final resting place. The tradition was passed down through generations. For centuries, the parlor stood tall in Liyue, handed down from one director to the next.
And so, it came to the seventy-fifth generation.
As the seventy-fifth director, Hu Tao's grandfather had grown old. According to custom, it was time to pass the position to the next generation and retire. And indeed, he had done so, passing the title to his son, the seventy-sixth director.
But before he could enjoy even a few days of leisure, due to unforeseen circumstances, he was forced to don the director's robes once more and take up the role again.
Not only that, looking at the infant before him, his face was filled with worry. He was already so old, yet he had to resume his duties and clean up this mess. He also had to care for this baby, barely a year old and unable to speak.
Though troubled, he had no choice. His son and daughter-in-law had vanished, and there was no one else to manage the parlor. If he didn't step in, Wangsheng Funeral Parlor would end with this generation.
So he reluctantly brought the baby back to the parlor and gave her a beautiful name: Hu Tao.
Time passed quickly. Spring turned to autumn, winter came and went, and year after year rolled by. The infant Hu Tao, nurtured by her aging grandfather, grew into a three-year-old girl.
In Liyue, children started school at age three. So Hu Tao, like the other children, carried her little backpack and went to school with great excitement.
But the moment she entered the classroom, almost every child looked at her with disgust.
"Look, that's the one I told you about—Hu Tao."
"I heard her family carries coffins. They make money off the dead. They're all cursed."
"I know her. She doesn't even have parents, just an old grandfather."
"I heard her parents died because of her. Unlucky."
"She smells like death. Stay away from her."
The children, barely older than Hu Tao, shunned her like the plague and whispered among themselves. Though their voices were soft, every word reached Hu Tao's ears, making her furious.
She shouted at them, "Say whatever you want. When I grow up, I'll carry all of you to your graves. You'll all be my customers."
Hearing that, the three- and four-year-olds burst into tears.
"Teacher, Hu Tao wants to carry us away—"
"She's so mean—"
"Her family buries people. I don't want to sit near her—"
"She's too scary—"
"No wonder she has no parents—"
Almost every child looked at three-year-old Hu Tao with disgust, wishing she would be thrown out.
Seeing this, the teacher was also at a loss. According to Liyue's rules, Hu Tao had every right to attend the school. But her background caused too many problems.
To calm the other children, the teacher assigned Hu Tao to a seat in the far corner of the classroom, with no one within five meters of her. No one spoke to her. No one greeted her.
Though she was still very young, having grown up in Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, Hu Tao had already experienced the coldness of the world. She was used to being treated differently. As long as they didn't insult her parents or her grandfather, she didn't care about those childish brats.
Sitting alone in the corner, three-year-old Hu Tao behaved nothing like a child her age. She pulled out a strange poetry book and began to read aloud in her peculiar, playful voice:
"Ask what love is in this world? The apes on both banks cry without end."
"I search for him a thousand times in the crowd, only to find him without effort."
"The neighbor's daughter has come of age, her strength can move mountains, her spirit can conquer the world."
"The road is long and winding, yet the tiger falls to the dogs on the plain."
"The sky is vast, the fields wide, one pear blossom bends the crabapple branch. Beyond the pavilion, beside the ancient path, a row of white egrets ascends to the azure sky."
At three years old, Hu Tao certainly couldn't have written these masterpieces. They were the works of her poetry-loving grandfather, accumulated over a lifetime. As soon as Hu Tao learned to speak, her grandfather had passed on his treasured verses to her, recognizing her extraordinary talent.
Hearing her peculiar recitation, the other children in the class were stunned. This unlucky little girl could already read on her very first day of school?
PS: Years later, a famous Liyue poetry critic would say, "Were it not for Hu Tao, the path of poetry would have been dark for ten thousand ages."