Hu Tao Is Monetizing My Existence. [170]

Internally, Xingqiu groaned:

Why didn’t I tell them? Because I didn’t want them to know, obviously!

Having your own unfinished novel discovered by friends—it was no different than being caught streaking through the streets.

He was pretty sure his toes were curling hard enough to dig out a three-room apartment.

“Next time… I’ll definitely tell you next time,” he said, smiling stiffly.

Guess I can’t use the pen name “Zhenyu” anymore…

Shame his book wasn’t even finished.

Well, at least no one was reading it. He could keep writing in secret—just… not publish it.

“How did you even find out I was writing a novel?” Xingqiu asked, genuinely baffled. He couldn’t recall leaking it anywhere.

“Oh, that?” Hu Tao put her hands on her hips. “Albedo told me.”

Then, huffing like she’d been wronged, she added, “I’m your poetry partner and your confidant, and you didn’t even tell me you were writing a book? If not for Albedo, I’d still be in the dark!”

Xingqiu felt his soul leave his body.

Why the heck does Hu Tao know Albedo?!

Of all the people in Mondstadt and Liyue, how did those two end up acquainted?

If he’d known, he would’ve warned Albedo not to say a word about him being “Zhenyu.”

Also… confidant? Since when?!

He gave a strained laugh and forced out an excuse: “It’s just… an immature draft. Nothing worth mentioning…”

“That’s where you’re wrong!” Chongyun chimed in, hands on his hips like he was scolding a child.

He’d originally thought Xingqiu just felt shy, but now it was obvious—he’d deliberately kept it secret.

“Writing a novel is a good thing! You really think we’d stop you or something?”

Xingqiu waved his hands, flustered. “No, that’s not what I meant…”

Usually, Xingqiu was the one teasing others. It was rare to see him this awkward.

The truth was, he wasn’t afraid they’d oppose it.

He was just… embarrassed. It was hard to cross that mental threshold.

Chongyun never quite gets the point…

“Hmm~” Hu Tao folded her arms, smirking knowingly but said nothing.

She wasn’t about to tell him she’d already bought Chronicles of Autumn’s Sword. Saying she hadn’t picked it up yet was just a little trick—to stop him from running off.

“Alright, let’s find a teahouse and talk this novel business through properly,” she said, patting Xingqiu on the shoulder. “I’ve already written the main outline. Albedo’s in charge of the illustrations. All that’s left is to start writing.”

Before he could flee, she hooked an arm around him and dragged him along.

“Master author, you better not hold anything back!”

Jiang Bai’s gaze flicked to the arm Hu Tao had slung over Xingqiu’s shoulder—and in the next moment, he darted to the other side, smoothly prying her hand away and putting his own arm around Xingqiu instead.

“Yes, this is very important to us. No cutting corners!”

Being flanked from both sides, Xingqiu could only move forward with a frozen smile.

Now that the shame had already sunk in and escape was impossible, he had no choice but to accept his fate.

“So… what are you two planning to write?” Chongyun asked curiously, licking his popsicle as he walked.

“Yeah,” Xingqiu echoed, finally recovering a bit. “What made you suddenly want to write a novel?”

“Well, it’s actually related to a service we offer at Wangsheng Funeral Parlor,” Hu Tao explained.

“We had a client who asked us to help him write a book—to preserve the stories buried beneath the snow of Dragonspine, so they wouldn’t be lost to time.”

In a private room at the teahouse, Hu Tao laid out the whole story.

“I see… In that case, it definitely deserves to be done well,” Xingqiu nodded thoughtfully, resting his chin in one hand.

If Hu Tao had just wanted to write a random story on a whim, he could’ve tossed something together without much care.

But if it was a dying adventurer’s last wish, something tied to Liyue’s history, then it demanded respect.

“To make it more readable and accessible, I already talked it over with the client—we’ll frame it as a novel, using third-person narration. The protagonist will share his name: Cartis.”

“For the opening, I was thinking—Cartis is packing up his home when he finds an old notebook left behind by his grandfather, a famous adventurer. Inside the notebook are clues to a hidden treasure. Cartis follows the notes and sets out for Dragonspine.”

Xingqiu nodded in approval. “Starting with a ‘treasure’ hook is a solid way to pull readers in. And treasure is a theme that really resonates with audiences.”

“Once he reaches the mountain,” Hu Tao continued, “he begins his search following the notebook. But instead of treasure, he finds strange ruins, ancient murals, snow-covered stone tablets… and a beautiful, melancholic ghost girl.”

“She’s a soul only the protagonist can see. They journey through countless dangers together, and somewhere along the way… he falls in love with her.”

“But later, the girl vanishes. As Cartis searches for her, he uncovers the truth—she was a princess from an ancient nation, sealed in this place for thousands of years, waiting for her lover and for the snow to stop falling.”

Though Hu Tao described it in simple terms, the story’s depth was undeniable.

Even Xingqiu, who had read countless novels, found himself drawn in, eager to hear more.

When she paused, Chongyun leaned forward. “And then?”

Jiang Bai already knew the real tale behind Dragonspine’s “Fennel,” but even so, he found himself curious about how Hu Tao would end the fictional version.

“Then, the protagonist climbs to the summit. There, he discovers the true cause of the eternal snowstorm. He finds the princess’s frozen corpse—she had died long ago, sealed in the ice.”

“For some reason, he regains the memories of his past life… but even then, he’s powerless to stop the force behind the storm. In despair, he digs the princess from the ice and holds her close—choosing to die with her in the cold.”

“The princess had waited all this time for her hero to return… but never again saw the spring.”

“Couldn’t you give it a happy ending?” Chongyun murmured, looking a little upset.

“You don’t get it. Tragedy leaves a deeper impression,” Xingqiu replied knowingly.

Hu Tao sipped her tea, soothing her throat after all that talking, and nodded in agreement.

“Exactly! Dragonspine is a place of sorrow to begin with—there’s no need to force a happy ending. Only an imperfect one lingers in the heart, makes it unforgettable. That’s what gives the story real power.”

Xingqiu slapped the table, his eyes practically glowing.

“I’m in!”

The style was totally different from his own Chronicles of Autumn’s Sword, but how could he not help with such a captivating project?

—

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!