Life In Teyvat- Night With | Hu Tao

The first rule of a night with Hu Tao is simple: Do not question the route. She drags you away from the bustling harbor, past the teahouses, and up toward the hills of Bishui Plain. She carries a small, ornate lantern that burns with a sickly green flame—a "Spirit Beacon," she calls it.

“See, most people think the dead are sad,” she explains, skipping over a root. “Wrong! They’re just bored. They’ve got eternity to kill. So tonight, we’re throwing a party.”

She stops in a clearing. For a moment, there is silence. Then she snaps her fingers.

The world inverts.

Suddenly, the clearing is filled with floating, translucent shapes. Ghosts. But not the terrifying specters you fight in domains. These are small, round, almost cartoonish spirits—Hu Tao’s "friends." They bob in the air like dandelion seeds, chattering in whispers. One sits on her shoulder. Another tries to eat your Paimon-shaped hair clip.

“This is my nightly rounds,” she says, her voice softening for a fraction of a second. “I check on the ones who can’t move on. We sing songs. We tell jokes. I help them remember the warm things—so they aren’t afraid to leave.”

This is the duality of Hu Tao. One moment, she is pranking you with a "cursed" rice ball. The next, she is holding a spectral child’s hand, guiding it toward a gentle light in the trees.

Life in Teyvat often romanticizes the flashy—the sword fights, the Elemental Bursts, the Mora. But nights like these reveal the quiet truth: Hu Tao is the lonely guardian between life and death. She makes the darkness laugh so it doesn’t weep.

At the stroke of midnight, we reached the edge of the harbor cliffs. The usual bubbly prankster vanished. For the first time, I saw the real Hu Tao.

She closed her eyes, and the air grew warm. Crimson butterflies, born of pure pyro energy, erupted from her palms. She danced—a sharp, elegant series of movements that were part martial art, part funeral rite.

“This is the Paramita Papilio,” she whispered, a single flame reflecting in her crimson eyes. “The butterfly that guides souls across the border. Pretty, right? Most people just see the fire. They forget the fire is the guide.”

She didn't fight any monsters. She didn't perform a ritual. She just... stood there, letting the butterflies drift down toward the sea. I realized she was saluting the soldiers and sailors who never made it home. Life in Teyvat- Night with Hu Tao

Midnight. Hu Tao leads you to a hidden cave behind a waterfall. Inside, she has set up a tiny campsite: a teapot, two cups, and a stack of Almond Tofu. There is no fire—she doesn’t need one. The spirit lantern provides enough light.

This is the most vulnerable part of the night. She pours the tea. It tastes like ash and honey.

“People think I’m weird,” she says, not looking at you. “They cross the street when they see the funeral parlor logo. They whisper, ‘There goes the girl who talks to nothing.’ But you stayed.”

You ask her if she’s ever scared of the dead. She laughs, a real laugh, not her theatrical one.

“No. I’m scared of the living. The living lie. The dead? They just want to finish their story.” She pauses. “My grandfather taught me that. He was the 76th Director. I held his hand when he passed. And you know what he said? ‘Hu Tao... don’t cry. Just make sure my funeral has good music.’”

For a silent moment, the Traveler and the Director sit at the edge of the living world. The ghosts outside stop their frolicking. Even the crickets go quiet.

Then she flicks a piece of tofu at your face.

“Boo. Got you.”

Life in Teyvat: A Night with Hu Tao

The stars are shining brightly in the night sky of Teyvat, casting a gentle glow over the bustling streets of Liyue. The air is filled with the sweet scent of incense and the sound of laughter, as the people of Liyue celebrate the evening with feasts and festivities.

But amidst all the joy and revelry, I find myself in the company of one of the most intriguing and enigmatic figures in Liyue - Hu Tao, the Director of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor.

As we stroll through the quiet streets, Hu Tao's signature smile gleams in the moonlight, and her eyes sparkle with a hint of mischief. We walk in comfortable silence, the only sound being the soft crunch of gravel beneath our feet.

"So, what brings you out tonight?" Hu Tao asks, her voice low and husky, as she gestures to the starry sky above.

"I couldn't sleep," I reply, "and I thought it would be nice to take a walk under the stars."

Hu Tao nods thoughtfully, her expression turning contemplative. "The night sky has a way of clearing the mind, doesn't it? Sometimes, I find myself lost in thought, staring up at the stars, and wondering what lies beyond our little corner of Teyvat." Walk to the Cemetery Terrace (Early Night)

As we walk, Hu Tao points out various landmarks and hidden spots in Liyue, sharing stories and anecdotes about the city's history and culture. Her passion and knowledge about the city are infectious, and I find myself captivated by her words.

Eventually, we find ourselves at the edge of the city, overlooking the tranquil waters of the Guyun Stone Forest. The sound of gentle lapping of the water against the shore creates a soothing melody, and the air is filled with the sweet fragrance of blooming flowers.

Hu Tao turns to me, a sly grin spreading across her face. "Want to see a secret spot, only known to a select few in Liyue?"

I nod eagerly, and Hu Tao leads me to a hidden cave behind the waterfall. Inside, the cave is filled with glittering crystals and shimmering bioluminescent plants, creating an otherworldly ambiance.

As we explore the cave, Hu Tao shares more stories about Liyue's history and mythology, her eyes sparkling with excitement. I listen, entranced, feeling as though I've stumbled into a hidden world, hidden from the rest of Teyvat.

As the night wears on, Hu Tao and I find ourselves at the entrance of the cave, gazing out at the starry sky once more.

"Thank you for showing me this side of Liyue," I say, turning to Hu Tao.

She smiles, her expression softening. "It's not often that I get to share this side of myself with others. But I suppose, sometimes, it's nice to let one's guard down, and just enjoy the beauty of the world."

As the night draws to a close, Hu Tao nods, and we part ways, the stars still shining brightly above us. I make my way back to my lodgings, feeling grateful for the unexpected adventure, and the chance to glimpse the hidden side of Hu Tao.

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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. Ritual Demonstration (Night)

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.

By a humble Traveler who survived the experience

In the sprawling, breathtaking world of Teyvat, every character offers a unique lens through which to view daily life. With Zhongli, you experience the weight of history and the refinement of tea ceremonies. With Xiangling, you endure the culinary danger of exploding Slime Condensate. But to spend a night with Hu Tao? That is not merely an evening; it is a philosophical descent into the absurd, a haunted carnival ride, and perhaps the most terrifyingly fun 12 hours you will ever survive.

If you have ever wondered what it truly means to live in Liyue after dark, buckle up. Here is an unfiltered, firsthand account of a Life in Teyvat: Night with Hu Tao.