Hu Tao Is Monetizing My Existence. [8]

After a long wait, it was finally their turn.

Hu Tao hopped off the bench and strode into the consultation room with Jiang Bai in tow.

Inside, Jiang Bai immediately noticed a man with green hair and gold-rimmed glasses.

He had already seen quite a variety of hair colors in just one day, but green was definitely a first. It made him take an extra glance out of sheer curiosity.

The man had slightly wavy long hair, neatly tied back with a hairpin. Draped over his shoulder was a white snake, its forked tongue flicking in and out.

Ignoring the snake for a moment, the man had the aura of a refined scholar—cultured, elegant, and clearly well-versed in his field.

Upon seeing Hu Tao, he raised an eyebrow in mild surprise.

“Oh? Director Hu, are you feeling unwell?”

Hu Tao was usually bursting with energy, bouncing around like a tireless calf. The idea of her being sick was almost unthinkable.

“It’s not me—it’s one of our people at Wangsheng Funeral Parlor.” Hu Tao gestured to Jiang Bai. “He’s lost his memories. Or to be more precise, he has partial amnesia. I’d like you to take a look at him.”

“Oh?” Baizhu pushed up his glasses, his interest piqued.

Jiang Bai wasn’t particularly optimistic about what a doctor could figure out about his condition.

Why had he appeared to be dead? Why had he suddenly come back to life? What had caused his amnesia?

He doubted there would be any clear answers.

Still, Hu Tao had gone out of her way to bring him here. He didn’t want to turn her down. If they did manage to uncover something useful, that would only work in his favor.

Baizhu studied Jiang Bai’s complexion, then gestured for him to extend his hand. He placed two fingers on Jiang Bai’s wrist, feeling for his pulse.

After a moment, Baizhu’s brows furrowed deeply. “Strange.”

Hearing this, Hu Tao immediately tensed. “What is it? Is there something wrong with him?”

Her concern was understandable—after all, Jiang Bai had already died once. His body was bound to be different from normal people. His complexion was even paler than the ferry attendants at Wangsheng Funeral Parlor who only worked night shifts—clearly unnatural.

He was their future golden soul ferryman. He couldn’t just drop dead here!

Jiang Bai was aware of some of his unusual physical traits—like his abnormally low heart rate—but he never paid much attention to them.

Still, seeing the small funeral director this worried for him gave him a warm feeling inside.

They had barely known each other for half a day, yet Hu Tao already considered him one of her own.

She might be a bit unreliable, but he had to admit—he liked this side of her.

“His body is quite peculiar.” Baizhu observed Jiang Bai with the keen gaze of a doctor who had stumbled upon a rare and fascinating case, an almost surgical curiosity in his eyes.

“His pulse is incredibly slow—only a few beats per minute. Under normal circumstances, such a low heart rate wouldn’t be enough to sustain proper circulation. And yet, his pulse remains strong and steady. On top of that, his body temperature is significantly lower than that of a regular person.”

As he spoke, Baizhu gestured for Jiang Bai to open his mouth, checking his tongue. Then he lifted Jiang Bai’s eyelids, pressed his limbs, and conducted a thorough examination—spending extra time on his head.

Once he was done, he started asking questions.

“Do you feel any discomfort?”

“No.”

“Any headaches? Do you feel groggy? When you try to remember things, do you experience intense pain?”

“No.”

“Have you had any flashes of memory—fragmented images, sudden recollections?”

“…Probably not.” Jiang Bai hesitated slightly. Occasionally, certain words would pop into his head instinctively, but that didn’t seem like a memory fragment to him.

After a full round of examination, Baizhu came to a conclusion.

“Bright eyes, steady breathing—aside from his abnormal pulse and low body temperature, everything else appears normal. Of course, it’s also possible that his condition is beyond my current knowledge.”

With that, he turned to Hu Tao. “Tell me exactly what happened with his amnesia.”

Instead of asking Jiang Bai directly—since someone with amnesia wouldn’t be much help—he relied on Hu Tao to recount the details.

Hu Tao then described in full how Jiang Bai had been found and how he had woken up.

This was the first time Jiang Bai had heard the story himself—he hadn’t known he was fished out of a river.

“I remember it was a clear day. A servant from the Luo family had gone to the riverbank to do laundry. From a distance, she noticed something floating in the water, but it was too far away to make out, so she didn’t pay it much mind.”

“Then, while she wasn’t looking, a piece of clothing got swept away by the current. She waded in to retrieve it, and that’s when she realized—there was someone floating in the river.”

Hu Tao’s storytelling had an almost dramatic rhythm to it, and Baizhu listened as if he were enjoying a suspenseful tale. Even the white snake on his shoulder had a look of idle curiosity.

Jiang Bai, too, found himself intrigued—oddly detached, as if he were hearing about someone else’s story rather than his own.

“The servant’s family used to be in the fishing trade, so she was a strong swimmer. She didn’t hesitate—she jumped in right away and dragged him to shore.”

“She thought it was just a regular case of someone drowning and tried to resuscitate him. But once he was out of the water, she realized—his body was ice-cold. He wasn’t breathing. His pulse had stopped.”

“So she ran back to the Luo estate to get help. I happened to be at the Luo residence at the time, handling a funeral service. When I heard they had pulled a corpse from the river, I went over to check it out.”

Hu Tao continued, while Baizhu listened with amusement, clearly engaged in the story.

Even his snake seemed to be enjoying the tale, its beady eyes glinting with interest.

Jiang Bai found himself entertained as well—though it was strange to be so invested in his own backstory.

“So, you were fished out of a river. How fascinating,” the snake suddenly spoke.

Jiang Bai jolted in surprise.

Hu Tao’s bizarre abilities hadn’t particularly shocked him, but a talking snake? That was pushing the limits of his understanding.

Seeing Jiang Bai’s obvious surprise, the snake—apparently named Changsheng—lifted its small head.

“What, never seen an animal talk before?”

Jiang Bai nodded seriously. “Can’t say I have.”

A talking snake was strange enough, but the fact that it spoke fluent human language? That outright defied common sense.

“Tch, such a sheltered perspective,” Changsheng rolled its beady eyes before slithering back onto Baizhu’s shoulder.

Jiang Bai glanced at the others in the room. No one seemed remotely surprised. That told him enough—talking animals were probably just a thing in this world.

When he’d walked through Liyue earlier, he had seen plenty of cats and dogs basking in the sun. Maybe he should try striking up a conversation with one of them sometime…

Hu Tao wasn’t fazed by the interruption and continued her story.

“Based on my many years of handling corpses at Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, I can say for sure—this guy was dead! Unless, of course, he’s some kind of artificial human or an alchemical construct.”

Baizhu, having already guessed where this was going, raised an eyebrow and adjusted his glasses. “So then, Director Hu, you buried him?”

Hu Tao spread her hands. “What else was I supposed to do? Leave him to rot in the wild?”

“How noble of you,” Baizhu said, stroking the cold scales of the snake on his shoulder. He offered a smile, but there was something deeper in his expression—a hint of something sharp.

“If only you weren’t so fixated on my Qiqi.”

Jiang Bai immediately sensed the shift in atmosphere. The moment the topic of Qiqi came up, the room grew noticeably tense.

Piecing together everything he had learned so far, some of his earlier questions now had answers. But at the same time, even more questions arose.

Hu Tao wanted to bury Qiqi. But why did Qiqi need a burial in the first place?

—

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!