Hu Tao Is Monetizing My Existence. [65]

After easing the soreness in one arm, Qiqi moved to Hu Tao’s other side and gently lifted her other hand.

For once, Hu Tao remained silent, her gaze unfocused.

It wasn’t until Qiqi let go that she snapped out of her daze.

Looking at the little zombie, Hu Tao spoke with a half-serious, half-joking tone:

“You’d better not be too nice to me, or I might not have the heart to send you to the afterlife.”

Qiqi hadn’t expected such a statement. She shook her head and slowly but firmly replied, “You helped Qiqi. Qiqi helps you. Qiqi… doesn’t want to go to the afterlife.”

With that, she put some distance between them and squatted down nearby.

Jiang Bai watched Hu Tao in silence, unusually refraining from his usual teasing.

He could tell—despite her carefree facade, she wasn’t as indifferent as she pretended to be.

He had once heard the funeral parlor attendants mention how Hu Tao used to talk to two stone lion statues, even giving them names. Every day, she would clean them, wipe them down, and chat with them like old friends.

Jiang Bai had a pretty good idea why.

As the heir to Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, she was constantly surrounded by death. On the surface, she seemed unbothered, but the fact that she attached emotions to lifeless objects showed just how much she feared loss.

She had never kept any pets. Even close friendships were rare. No matter how accepting she was of death, losing someone still hurt.

That was why she had always treated Qiqi as just another wandering soul to be laid to rest. She had never interacted with her beyond that purpose—

—because she was afraid of forming an attachment. Afraid she wouldn’t be able to let go.

“Let’s rest a little longer, then we’ll climb one more peak before dinner,” Jiang Bai suggested.

It was still early; they couldn’t just sit around.

Finding a spot to sit, he let the mountain wind wash over him as he studied the peaks ahead, trying to determine which one was most likely to hold the Kongtong Bailing Jade.

Since it was a plant’s root that had turned to jade, it would most likely be found on peaks with dense vegetation—especially those with deep-rooted trees.

He narrowed it down to three likely candidates.

Just then, Qiqi approached, holding her notebook and a pen. She had flipped to a blank page.

She looked at Jiang Bai and asked, “What is… your name?”

Jiang Bai blinked, realizing he had never actually introduced himself.

“I’m Jiang Bai—‘Jiang’ as in ‘river,’ and ‘Bai’ as in ‘white.’”

Qiqi carefully wrote his name in her notebook. She wanted to smile, but her face had been expressionless for so long that she had forgotten how.

“Qiqi has written it down. Qiqi… will remember.”

She wanted to hold onto this simple kindness. To remember this warmth she hadn’t felt in so long.

“If you forget, it’s okay. I’ll just tell you again next time.” Jiang Bai grinned, the picture of an easygoing older brother.

But then a thought struck him.

If zombies had such poor memory that they forgot things within days, how did Qiqi retain the words she wrote?

Were written characters like spoken language—exempt from her memory loss? Or was it because she reinforced them by rereading her notes daily?

And what about himself? He wasn’t from this world, was he?

Then why did this world’s language and script feel so completely natural to him?

“Qiqi, how many characters do you know?”

Qiqi’s expression turned blank.

Most people wouldn’t think to count the number of words they knew.

“Qiqi… doesn’t know.”

“Can you write ‘Kongtong’ from ‘Kongtong Bailing Jade’?”

Qiqi tilted her head, lifted her pen, and tried to write—but she couldn’t.

Before her death, she had been just a young girl with a limited vocabulary. Even if she had relearned some words after awakening, this was beyond her skill level.

Her expression fell slightly, and her hand drooped. “Qiqi… doesn’t know how to write it…”

“That’s okay, I don’t know how to write it either,” Jiang Bai said, flashing a bright smile without the slightest guilt over his lie.

“That word’s pretty complicated—totally normal if you don’t know it.”

“Oh…” Qiqi nodded, half-understanding.

“Jiang Bai… do you want healing?” she asked, looking up at him.

Instead of answering, Jiang Bai posed a different question.

“Does your adeptal energy ever run out?”

If she exhausted it, would she still be considered an adeptus? If it was depleted, would her body stiffen—so much that she wouldn’t even be able to move?

“Don’t know… Qiqi rarely uses it.” Qiqi’s expression was blank. She only used her abilities instinctively and had never thought about whether they had limits.

Jiang Bai glanced at the Cryo Vision on her waist.

The pale blue-white energy she used looked suspiciously similar to the color of her Vision’s power.

Was it truly adeptal energy, or was it simply elemental energy?

“Alright, go ahead and ease the soreness a bit.”

“Okay.”

A soft blue-white glow formed in Qiqi’s palm as a cool sensation spread through Jiang Bai’s arm.

It felt like snowflakes landing on his skin—cold, but refreshing.

As he focused on the sensation, he realized something—

It didn’t feel like adeptal energy at all. It was pure Cryo elemental power.

“That feels a lot better, thanks to you.” Jiang Bai patted her small hat. Qiqi shyly lowered her head, pressing a hand against the talisman on her forehead.

“Qiqi… is happy to help.”

Perhaps it was because she had been alone for so long. Because her poor memory made it difficult to do things right.

She wanted—desperately—to be needed.

Being acknowledged. Being useful.

That was what made her happy.

“I thought it would take at least ten days to find this jade, but with you here, we might cut that time in half! You’re our lucky charm!”

Jiang Bai was an expert at flattery—when he wanted to, he could make anyone feel good.

Qiqi was no exception.

He had noticed how much she cared about being useful, so he made sure to emphasize the help she was providing.

Qiqi was clearly not used to being praised. Flustered, she quickly turned away, hiding her face.

Even though her body could no longer flush with embarrassment, she still felt warmth spreading across her cheeks.

Thanks to Qiqi’s healing and a short break, Hu Tao was back to full energy in no time.

She leapt to her feet, hands on her hips, and let out a triumphant laugh.

“Hu Tao is back in action!”

Even her little ghost popped out of her body to cheer.

“Now that we’re all rested, let’s get moving!”

Jiang Bai pointed toward the three most promising peaks, and the three of them spread their Wind Gliders, soaring toward their next destination.

As the sun slowly dipped toward the horizon, the figures of three travelers clung to the cliffside like tiny geckos, moving skillfully between rocky ledges and winding tree roots.

—

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!