Hu Tao Is Monetizing My Existence. [148]

Jiang Bai and Hu Tao chatted casually as they made their way toward Mondstadt.

The last two times Jiang Bai had passed through this area, he’d been rushing to get somewhere, barely sparing the landscape a glance.

Now that they weren’t pressed for time, he could finally slow down and take it all in.

“Director, I came across a really unusual hilichurl tribe on Dragonspine,” Jiang Bai began, sharing his experience.

“What do you mean by ‘unusual’?”

“When they saw me, they didn’t attack. They even tried to communicate… I couldn’t understand what they were saying, but they clearly had their own language.”

“That is rare…”

Hu Tao found it intriguing as well.

That hilichurls had their own language wasn’t surprising—but hilichurls willing to communicate with a human? That was almost unheard of.

As a species, hilichurls seemed to carry an innate hostility toward humans. If a human stepped into their territory, they’d immediately grab weapons and attack—regardless of whether the person meant harm or came in peace.

There was no such thing as “friend or foe” to them—everyone was treated the same.

“Take me to see them next time,” Hu Tao said with interest.

“Sure…” Jiang Bai nodded, not refusing her request.

He wasn’t worried Hu Tao would harm those hilichurls.

She might regularly take commissions to clear out monsters, but she still had a solid sense of right and wrong.

That group hadn’t done anything evil, and they could even communicate.

That alone meant they didn’t need to be purged on sight.

After all, they were living beings on Teyvat too—shouldn’t they also have the right to live here?

“Director, do you know of any scholars who study hilichurlian?” Jiang Bai asked.

He really wanted to learn the language—if he could, then he might be able to have proper conversations with those hilichurls.

“No idea. I’ve never really looked into that…” Hu Tao shook her head.

There were just too many things going on in the world. She couldn’t possibly keep track of all of them—much less something as niche as hilichurlian.

“But I bet the Akademiya in Sumeru has research on it. If I run into someone relevant, I’ll ask around for you.”

As they walked, Jiang Bai took time to admire the local flora.

The wilds of Mondstadt were dotted with unfamiliar plants—some of them quite striking.

Like windwheel asters, whose petals spun like little turbines when the wind blew; or small lamp grass, which glowed like tiny lanterns in the dark.

Jiang Bai realized that the continent of Teyvat had lots of light-producing life forms.

Whether it was plants, ores, or crafted items, many things could emit light.

They might not be bright enough to make the night feel like day, but they were enough to keep people from groping around in total darkness.

As he observed, he casually picked a few.

He didn’t know what they were good for—but better to grab first and figure it out later.

“Hey, there are some dandelions over there!” Hu Tao pointed to a small clump growing on a nearby hilltop.

These dandelions were bluish in color, soft and fluffy like little clouds.

“Mondstadt has this really famous dandelion wine. It’s made from the seeds of these flowers. They say it carries the taste of the wind. Every time I come to Mondstadt, old man Zhongli always asks me to bring a bottle back for him…”

“They say it has the taste of the wind? You haven’t tried it yourself?” Jiang Bai asked curiously as he walked over, took a deep breath, then blew hard at the flowers.

The puffball seeds floated away gently in the breeze, like tiny umbrellas drifting into the distance—leaving behind a few seed heads for picking.

Hu Tao gathered them into a small box.

“I’m not old enough to drink yet,” she replied. “And besides, what’s so great about alcohol?”

She had snuck a sip once out of curiosity, but all she tasted was the sharp burn—none of the pleasure.

“Fair enough…” Jiang Bai had never tasted dandelion wine himself, so he couldn’t comment.

But since Mr. Zhongli liked it, Jiang Bai couldn’t show up empty-handed next time.

“How about we bring back a bunch of seeds and let Mr. Zhongli brew a batch himself?” Jiang Bai suggested.

He didn’t have the money to buy wine, but he could pick dandelion seeds.

Close enough—round it up, and that was basically a whole vat of wine!

“Great idea!”

And so the two of them began their quest—searching for and collecting as many dandelion seeds as they could.

By the time they’d stripped every dandelion from the nearby hills, Hu Tao’s little box was filled to the brim.

Satisfied, she closed the lid with a snap.

With this many seeds, Mr. Zhongli could probably brew a dozen pots of wine!

No need for any other souvenirs—nothing said “Mondstadt” quite like a full box of dandelion seeds.

“With this much care put into a gift, Mr. Zhongli is definitely going to be touched,” Jiang Bai grinned smugly.

Their present would satisfy his craving for dandelion wine and give him the chance to test his winemaking skills.

Sure, it would take time to ferment—but eventually, it would be drinkable, right?

Hu Tao gave him a thumbs up.

“Next time I bring you a souvenir, I’ll go all out like this too.”

Sure, it had taken some effort—but hey, it didn’t cost a thing.

“Please don’t, Director! I don’t even drink. Dandelion seeds are wasted on me… But if it were Glaze Lilies, I wouldn’t say no…”

“Dream on!”

They wandered at a leisurely pace, stopping and going, until nightfall found them at the edge of a canyon.

The gorge cut through the land like a giant scar, winding and twisting through the terrain.

Steep stone walls rose high on either side, and from within, only a narrow strip of sky could be seen above.

Aside from the potential for monsters, it wasn’t a bad spot to camp.

They pitched their tent, set up a table, and lit a fire.

Having a storage device really did make life better.

Even camping in the wild, they lacked for nothing—tables, stools, pots, pans, everything was there.

Jiang Bai sliced up some sunsettias and sweet flowers into a fruit platter, snacking while boiling a pot of soup.

“I want soup~ put in some pepper~ and a little radish~ ooh, some ginger too~ la la la~”

He hummed a tune he’d made up on the spot—tuneless and offbeat.

Not to be outdone, Hu Tao broke into her signature song “Qiuqiu Ballad”:

“Eldest hilichurl got sick.”

“The second one took care.”

“The third one brought the medicine.”

“Fourth hilichurl prepared~”

The two of them took turns belting out their bizarre tunes into the canyon air, each louder and more off-key than the last—like they were having some kind of musical duel.

But alas—joy often invites disaster.

Their excessive noise drew the attention of a nearby group of hilichurls.

—

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!