Hu Tao paid no mind to Jiang Bai’s internal drama. She grabbed a sheet of paper from the print shop’s counter, picked up a brush, and started writing.
Catchy slogans flowed from her hand effortlessly, without even a pause to think.
Wangsheng Funeral Parlor’s New Branch Service: “Falling Leaves Return to Roots”!
No matter where you are, no matter how far,
as long as you’ve signed a contract with us,
your remains will be returned to your homeland and your final wishes delivered!
Special offer! First 100 clients get 20% off!
Refer a new client and enjoy a 30% discount!
The slogans were simple and easy to understand—even a child could grasp the gist at a glance.
Hu Tao thought for a moment, then added a few more lines:
A blessing for adventurers, a safeguard for explorers!
Make arrangements for your afterlife now—don’t wait until it’s too late to regret it!
In one sweeping paragraph, she had clearly laid out the service and its benefits.
But she wasn’t done yet. In the corner of the page, she added a line in smaller print:
Trial run: Wangsheng Funeral Parlor’s missing persons search service now available.
Inquiries welcome.
Reading the flyer, Jiang Bai gave a big thumbs-up.
High-level stuff! Truly top-tier marketing!
Clearly, Hu Tao was a regular at this shop. The print shop owner, who had seen her work many times before, remained calm and unfazed even after reading her eccentric copy.
But Hu Tao wasn’t quite satisfied. It lacked that extra punch. So she picked up the brush again and wrote a completely different version in a whole new style:
Are you afraid of dying during an expedition?
Are you plagued by the disappearance of loved ones—missing for ages, no word, no news, no closure?
Do you fear being trapped in a perilous land, your remains left unclaimed, your final words undelivered?
Three consecutive rhetorical questions stirred up unease and worry, nudging readers to ask themselves the same.
What if that really happened to me…?
And then—bam—the solution:
Wangsheng Funeral Parlor’s newest service: “Falling Leaves Return to Roots”!
No matter how far, no matter where,
we’ll find you, return you to your homeland, deliver your last wishes, and lay your soul to rest.
Now that felt right to Hu Tao.
She then copied over the rest of the details from the first flyer onto this new one.
And with that, the flyers were done!
“Boss, print 200 copies of this one.” Hu Tao slapped down the first version.
Then she dropped the second one on top. “And a thousand copies of this one!”
“Got it!” Over a thousand flyers—this was a big order. The shop owner happily agreed.
“I want them ready by tomorrow morning. Can you do that?”
“No problem!”
Leaving the print shop, Hu Tao was practically skipping with joy, humming a cheerful tune.
Their business was finally about to launch!
No way any adventurer could resist such an enticing offer!
And if someone did? Well, clearly they weren’t the problem.
Jiang Bai was in high spirits too. He finally had the spatial artifact he’d been dreaming of. No more borrowing bedding!
He was already mentally arranging how to pack it: with three cubic meters of space, he could actually fit quite a lot.
First off, bedding—non-negotiable. Next, spices. Then clothes—once the new sets were ready, they’d all go in. Towels, toothbrush, toiletries—gotta have a few. And then… not much else, really.
He didn’t own many things to begin with. The precious Four Directions Compass he planned to hang at his waist—so he could see it anytime, anywhere.
And as for the risk of it being stolen?
Ha! Like anyone would dare. Let reason be their warning.
Just as he was deep in thought, Jiang Bai suddenly had the odd sensation of being watched. He glanced around, but only saw a few pedestrians hurrying past.
Was I imagining things?
Or maybe… I’m just too handsome, and they couldn’t help but stare?
He brushed it off.
Alas, even this devastatingly good-looking face can’t get a flicker of interest from the director. What a cruel world…
In the corner of her eye, Yelan—disguised among the crowd as a passerby—watched Jiang Bai as he walked beside Hu Tao.
She quietly withdrew her gaze.
“So sharp…” she murmured under her breath.
Now that her last investigation was wrapping up, she had some free time to look into Jiang Bai’s origins.
…
By dusk, after spending the whole day wandering Liyue Harbor with Hu Tao, Jiang Bai finally made it back to Wangsheng Funeral Parlor.
His legs felt like jelly. Somehow, just trailing after Hu Tao all day had drained him more than hiking up a mountain.
And Hu Tao? Not even winded.
Leaning weakly against a wall, Jiang Bai groaned, “Director, I’m gonna go rest…”
But Hu Tao wasn’t about to let him off so easily. “Remember that sword we picked up at Guyun Stone Forest?”
“Yeah, why?”
Jiang Bai didn’t think much of it—until a sudden thought struck him.
“Wait… Director, are you gonna share the Mora with me?!”
His eyes instantly lit up, little Mora signs practically swirling in his pupils.
Hu Tao smacked him upside the head. “Can you think about anything besides Mora?!”
Jiang Bai: offended.jpg
Well, yeah—because I don’t have any!
If he were rolling in wealth, he wouldn’t need to dream about Mora all day.
Hu Tao couldn’t be bothered to explain. She waved him along and started walking. “Just follow me.”
Still full of curiosity, Jiang Bai followed her into the ancestral hall.
The first thing he saw were the neatly arranged spirit tablets lining the shelves.
Hu Tao lit a stick of incense with solemn respect. Jiang Bai followed suit and bowed three times.
Then, under Hu Tao’s guidance, his eyes landed on the sword resting on a rack.
“That’s the one we found that day?” He frowned. The sword looked brand new, which confused him.
“Mm. I had a blacksmith restore it.”
“Ah, makes sense.” Jiang Bai nodded—but something still didn’t sit right.
“Wait… don’t tell me this sword belonged to some important ancestor of the funeral parlor?”
Why else would it be here in the hall?
But Hu Tao didn’t hide anything. “There’s a spirit inside the sword.”
“A spirit?”
Jiang Bai had been at Wangsheng for a while, but this was his first actual encounter with a ghost.
Sure, he knew souls existed after death—but the ones that lingered in the world were rare. He hadn’t met a single one until now.
Naturally, his curiosity was piqued. What kind of ghost stays behind? Why hasn’t it passed on?
Hu Tao formed a hand seal, and the soul within the sword slowly took shape.
The apparition was still faint, its presence barely solid—but it had awoken, its awareness returning.
“…Where is this…?”
The spirit looked around, dazed and confused.
His memory was still stuck in the moment of death.
“Didn’t I… die?” he murmured to himself.
“You did.” Hu Tao said it plainly. “But by chance, your soul became bound to this sword.”
“The sword…?”
The spirit glanced down.
Sure enough—
His form was transparent, and beneath him lay his own Skyrider Greatsword.
—
This is a fan translation of 胡桃拿我冲业绩 by 余溯. All rights to the original work belong to the creator. Please support them by exploring their original work or sharing it with others if you can. Thank you for reading and supporting my efforts to bring this story to a wider audience!
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