For the people of Liyue, Director Hu Tao of Wangsheng Funeral Parlor was a familiar figure. They often saw her promoting her business on the streets of Liyue Harbor, seeking out customers.
But what they knew was only Hu Tao's outward appearance. No one had ever tried to understand the real Hu Tao.
Now, however, the storyteller was laying all of Hu Tao's stories bare before the audience.
Listening to her own story, Hu Tao's expression was a strange mix of emotions—sometimes pouting in anger and sometimes grinning mischievously, leaving others unsure of what she was thinking.
Keqing asked with curiosity, "In Liyue, most children start school at three. You could already read poetry by then?"
Even Keqing herself had only begun learning to read and practice martial arts after starting school at three.
Hu Tao said smugly, "Reading from a book is nothing. I can recite those poems from memory."
Not only that, she could recite them fluently while standing on her head.
Keqing asked in surprise, "Did you write those poems yourself?"
Though some of them were a bit odd, they were catchy and surprisingly good.
Hu Tao laughed. "Of course not. Those were all written by my grandfather. He said no publisher would take them, and he was afraid they'd be lost, so he taught them to me."
As she said this, a thought struck her. Those poems had never been published or shared outside the family. Apart from her deceased grandfather, only Hu Tao knew them. How did the storyteller know about them?
Could this reincarnation story actually be true?
Puzzled, Hu Tao looked up at the storyteller on stage, her gaze growing more curious.
Not only Hu Tao, but the others around her also turned their attention to the stage, waiting for him to continue.
Before hearing this story, most people had kept their distance from Hu Tao, treating her as someone unlucky. But now, many wondered: what kind of past did this little girl truly have? Had she experienced hardships like those in the previous twelve lives?
As everyone focused on the stage, Li Mo slowly set down his teacup and resumed his storytelling.
As he spoke, the projections above the inn began to play once more like a film.
In the images, three-year-old Hu Tao was shunned by everyone simply because she had been born into Wangsheng Funeral Parlor and had lost both parents at a young age. During the day, she endured the whispers of her classmates. At night, she returned home to the idle gossip of the neighbors.
Even the cheerful little Hu Tao couldn't help but feel confused.
She tearfully told her beloved grandfather everything that had happened at school. "Grandfather, why are all the other students afraid of me? Even the teacher doesn't want to come near me."
From a young age, Hu Tao had been full of clever ideas and strange thoughts. But she had never used them to prank others—she even wanted to help. Yet every time, she was met with hostile glares and harsh curses. It seemed everyone both hated and feared her.
Hearing her question, her grandfather took her hand and drew her close.
"Our work at Wangsheng Funeral Parlor deals with the dead, but we also have to interact with the living. At night, we dig graves. During the day, we promote our services to the living. Those who don't understand us are bound to be afraid. There's nothing we can do about that."
"If anyone speaks ill of you again, just hand them this flyer. They won't dare to talk nonsense after that."
With that, he handed Hu Tao a stack of brand-new promotional flyers.
Printed on them were slogans like:
[Today is an auspicious day—a perfect time to be buried. Do you want to be buried?]
[Half-price burials today!]
[Family package—reunited forever!]
[Order now—coffin delivered to your door within the hour!]
Even the mischievous Hu Tao looked at the flyers like they were treasures.
"I'll go promote them right now!"
But her grandfather stopped her. "Ahem, these flyers aren't for just anyone. Only give them to people who provoke you."
Hu Tao nodded happily. "Understood."
And so, she tucked the flyers into her backpack. The next time she went to school, she would hand them out to the classmates who mocked her and the teacher who failed her.
After putting the flyers away, Hu Tao had no playmates, so she entertained herself. She played house by herself and played divination cards by herself. She even refused to use the door, preferring to climb the high wall to gaze into the distance.
From the wall, she could see the dense forest in the distance, where Wuwang Hill, the sacred site of Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, was said to be. She had never been there. She heard there were mischievous little ghosts there. Next time she had a chance, she would definitely go see it.
Just as she was muttering to herself and admiring the sunset, her grandfather's voice came from behind. "Little Hu Tao, have you memorized all those poems yet?"
Hu Tao answered loudly, "I memorized them all a long time ago."
The tiny Hu Tao scrambled down the ladder and ran to her grandfather with the poetry book in hand.
She handed it to him and said seriously, "I only looked at these poems once, and I've already memorized them."
Her grandfather smiled. "Then recite them for me."
These poems were the masterpieces of his lifetime. Even if they could never be published, they must not be lost. They had to be passed on to little Hu Tao.
Hearing his words, Hu Tao said happily, "Yes!"
Then she suddenly planted her hands on the ground, lifted her legs, and stood on her head against the wall. She shook her head and recited in a singsong voice:
"When friends come from afar, dig a grave to welcome them."
"Every man dies, but leave a pure name in the world."
"Once bitten by a snake, everywhere you hear birds sing."
"One slip leads to eternity... ah, one slip leads to eternal greatness."
Standing on her head, Hu Tao recited most of her grandfather's poems without a single mistake, as if she had unlocked some hidden power.
Watching her, her grandfather was very pleased. But even he couldn't help but wonder: why did she have to recite poems standing on her head? Wasn't she tired?