Ever since she was little, Hu Tao's grandfather had never wanted her to watch the funerals held at Wangsheng Funeral Parlor. But she always sneaked in anyway, watching the mourners weep and the coffins being carried to Wuwang Hill or elsewhere for burial.
From those early days, she had imagined herself as director, hosting funerals. It would be so cool. She had known that day would eventually come. But she had never imagined that the first funeral she would host as director would be her grandfather's.
As always, when Wangsheng Funeral Parlor held a funeral, a fine drizzle fell from the sky, adding to the sorrow. Streamers of white silk hung in every corner of the courtyard, swaying gently in the breeze like dying butterflies making their last struggle. Braziers of charcoal flickered in the misty rain, threatening to go out at any moment. Beneath the eaves, the flames danced on either side of the coffin, like spirits bidding farewell to the departed soul.
In the courtyard, Hu Tao wore mourning clothes, two streams of tears tracing down her cheeks. Following the parlor's customs, she held a length of white silk in her hands and walked forward through the drizzling rain, step by step toward her grandfather's coffin.
As she walked, she recited the eulogy in a choked voice:
"Ancestors of Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, hear me—"
"Today—"
"Hu Tao, the seventy-seventh director of Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, sees off—"
"The seventy-fifth director of Wangsheng Funeral Parlor."
By tradition, she could have delivered a long eulogy, describing her grandfather's glorious and legendary life in impassioned words, inscribing his great deeds upon his tombstone. But the grandfather she saw in her mind was the one who had read with her, played hide and seek with her, and dug graves with her.
She wept. After just two lines, she was already overcome with sobs. At just thirteen, she had barely learned the parlor's rites, how to dig graves like her grandfather, and how to use a shovel to drive away mischievous spirits. She wasn't ready to become director. She wasn't ready to accept her grandfather's death. But reality was cruel—when things happened, no one could stop them.
And so, with tears streaming down her face, she walked forward, her body trembling, her feet splashing through puddles.
When she was still three or four meters from the coffin, her steps grew slower and slower until she finally stopped. She knelt before her grandfather's coffin, holding the rain-soaked white silk in her trembling hands, raising it before him.
According to tradition, at this moment she should have recited solemn verses to express her grief and longing, to bid him farewell. But when she opened her mouth to speak, only sobs came out.
In that moment, looking at the coffin—the very one she had napped in during their games of hide and seek—she could bear it no longer. She broke down and wailed.
In this grand funeral, Hu Tao was not only the host and the one conducting the rites, but also a grieving girl who had lost her grandfather.
When the neighbors heard the commotion from Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, they gathered outside the gate to watch, just as they always did. They saw the white silk filling the courtyard, the charcoal fires struggling to burn in the rain, and Hu Tao kneeling on the ground, sobbing uncontrollably.
The murmurs began.
"What's wrong? Hu Tao is usually so tough—why is she crying?"
"Wangsheng Funeral Parlor must be doing good business lately."
"Where's Old Hu? Doesn't he always host these funerals? Why isn't he here?"
"Sigh, don't you know? Old Hu has passed away."
"From now on, there's no Old Hu, only Hu Tao. How can a twelve or thirteen-year-old girl keep Wangsheng Funeral Parlor running?"
"The parlor may not survive much longer."
Now that they knew of her grandfather's death, when they looked at Hu Tao again, there was no longer any disgust or fear, only pity. A twelve or thirteen-year-old girl, by Liyue's customs, should still be in school. She could study law to become a legal consultant, or learn administration to work at Yujing Terrace. She had a bright future ahead of her.
But Hu Tao had lost her parents shortly after birth, and now, in the prime of her youth, she had lost her most important guardian. From now on, just thirteen years old, she would have to carry the weight of the declining Wangsheng Funeral Parlor on her shoulders—a burden that would have been heavy even for an adult.
Everyone sighed. Some even whispered that the thousand-year-old Wangsheng Funeral Parlor might come to an end with her generation. What a pity.
After watching for a while, they all left, sighing.
In the courtyard, the grand funeral, the highest of honors, continued under Hu Tao's direction. She knelt in the puddles, her white mourning clothes soaked through, the white silk in her hands drenched. Her eyes were red from crying. Her sobs grew quieter until they faded into silent weeping.
After a long time, she finally rose to her feet, still clutching the wet white silk. With red-rimmed eyes, she walked to her grandfather's side and carefully laid the dripping silk across his coffin. Then, with her small, pale arms, she gently embraced the coffin, pressing her tear-streaked face against it, wanting to be closer to him, wanting to speak with him one last time.
She didn't want to say goodbye. Holding the coffin, she murmured, "Grandfather, Hu Tao really misses you. There are so many things I still want to tell you. I want to see you one more time."
As she spoke, fresh tears spilled from her reddened eyes.
"Grandfather—"
"Grandfather—"
"Hu Tao misses you. Hu Tao doesn't want you to leave."
According to custom, the funeral was only half complete. The remainder was the burial. Following the rituals her grandfather had taught her, Hu Tao took out the Mora he had left her and hired pallbearers. She led the procession to Wuwang Hill, the sacred ground of Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, following the rites he had taught her.