At Wangshu Inn in Liyue, Li Mo was slowly telling the story of the thirteenth life on stage, while the audience listened intently to every detail. This life was not unfamiliar to them. Many had visited Hu Tao's grandfather, some had done business with Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, and others had pre-ordered funerals for their families. They had known the kind old man.
So from the very beginning, some had already steeled themselves for the story—they knew Hu Tao's grandfather would die, and they knew Hu Tao would hold his funeral. But when Li Mo on stage reached the part about her grandfather's death, and Hu Tao crying in the rain as she conducted his funeral, the audience felt less sorrow and more a sense of resignation.
"An old grandfather raising a young granddaughter—inevitably, the older one goes first."
"If only Hu Tao's father hadn't disappeared back then, even after her grandfather died, little Hu Tao wouldn't have suffered so much."
"So that's how Rex Lapis got his thrush."
"Little Hu Tao isn't really going to the end of Wuwang Hill, is she? I heard it's very dangerous—one wrong step and you could fall into the underworld and never return."
"That place is full of spirits. Most people can't even reach the end—they get scared out of their wits first."
"Storyteller, is that all?"
"I'm not crying. I can still take it—come on, storyteller, give us more. Are you going soft?"
When the audience saw little Hu Tao heading into the depths of Wuwang Hill with only some water and dry rations, they began to worry for her.
Please don't let anything happen to her. Don't let her run into Hilichurls with their clubs, or Slimes that attack people, or vicious spirits.
As the murmurs spread, in a corner of the inn, Keqing, Xiangling, Beidou, Shenhe, and even La Signora were sighing.
In their eyes, Hu Tao had always been a mischievous, carefree girl who laughed at everything and never cried. No matter what happened, she faced it cheerfully, overcoming obstacles with her unique methods. But only now did they truly understand little Hu Tao, and see the tender side hidden beneath her tough exterior.
Looking at the frozen projections above the inn, Xiangling sighed. "Since I met Hu Tao, this is the first time I've seen her cry. I never imagined she went through so much at just thirteen. I wonder how she managed to carry on after her grandfather died. I hope she found him at the end of Wuwang Hill and got to see him one more time."
Though Xiangling hoped so, Hu Tao had already said earlier that she hadn't found her grandfather at Wuwang Hill. She must have been heartbroken.
As they spoke, they all turned to look at Hu Tao's seat. But suddenly, they realized she had slipped away while they were listening. Didn't she want to hear the rest?
Xiangling immediately stood up. "Guoba, let's go find Hu Tao. We can't let her be sad alone. We should be with her."
Guoba jumped up too. "Lulu lu—"
Just as Xiangling and Guoba were about to go look for her, Beidou spoke seriously. "Don't go. Since Hu Tao snuck away, it means she doesn't want us to see her cry. If we go after her now, she'll only feel worse."
Since they had known her, Hu Tao had always been strong, never once crying. Even when customers deliberately made things difficult, she would patiently explain with humor. But this time, the storyteller had exposed her vulnerability to everyone. She didn't want anyone to see that side of her. She didn't want to cry in front of them. That was why she had slipped away.
Keqing also sighed. "You're right. Let Hu Tao have some time alone. I'm sure she'll be back soon—and she'll be smiling when she returns."
Beside them, La Signora and Shenhe, who had already been through similar experiences, could understand Hu Tao's feelings. They could only sigh and silently wish her well, waiting for her to return.
Meanwhile, outside Wangshu Inn, Hu Tao sat on the ground, leaning against the wall. She clutched the Staff of Homa tightly in her arms, sobbing softly.
"Grandfather, Hu Tao didn't disappoint you. Hu Tao didn't let Wangsheng Funeral Parlor close down. Hu Tao made it through. The parlor is doing well now."
She buried her small head in her arms, crying quietly. In the years since her grandfather's death, she had come to accept his passing and life without him. But this wretched storyteller had ripped open the old wound, making her feel the grief all over again.
Just as she sat there, her head buried, crying softly, a voice came from in front of her.
"Hey, Hu Tao, you're at Wangshu Inn too? I heard there's a really interesting storyteller inside. Why aren't you listening? Hey—are you crying?"
The Traveler Lumine and her emergency food supply had finally arrived at Wangshu Inn. But as soon as they reached the entrance, they saw Hu Tao sitting there, clutching the Staff of Homa, crying softly. She looked so helpless, so pitiful.
In Lumine and Paimon's eyes, Hu Tao had always been a clever and resilient girl. They never imagined she would be secretly crying—it was like the sun rising from the west.
Hearing the Traveler's voice, Hu Tao shot up like a startled bird, wiping her tears and quickly saying, "I wasn't crying. You must have seen wrong. I'm just tired—I was resting here. That's right, just resting."
In front of others, she was still the same mischievous, stubborn girl.
Seeing her red-rimmed eyes, Lumine put her hands on her hips and frowned, a little angry. "Hu Tao, we're friends. Don't hide it from me. Who made you cry? I'll beat them up."
Since they had become friends, Lumine had always considered the eccentric Hu Tao a friend. If someone made her cry, she wouldn't let it slide.
Arataki Itto also stepped forward, his tall frame blocking the sunlight in front of Hu Tao. He said with confidence, "That's right, little girl. Tell me what's wrong—I'll take care of it."