Chapter 16: Fortune Telling
It is said that friends are found all over the world. As the sun dipped westward, the peculiar fortune teller and three unlucky souls found themselves sharing a meal at the very tavern where Xie Yuzhu was having lunch.
Xie Yuzhu’s gaze flitted repeatedly between Ye Minwei and Wen Ci, thinking to herself how astonishing it was—who would have imagined that the Patriarch of All Phenomena and the Master of the Dream Abyss would sit at the same table?
Observing strange things is said to prolong one’s life. After a day spent chasing dogs across the streets, her lost years could now all be regained.
Wen Ci did not consider himself an outsider in the slightest. He appraised the fortune teller and, taking the lead, said, “Miss Xie, shouldn’t you introduce your friend?”
Xie Yuzhu immediately snapped back to attention, cleared her throat, and introduced her great benefactor—Master Cangshu.
Not long ago, as Xie Yuzhu struggled in a stalemate with a wild dog, this fortune teller named Cangshu appeared like a divine warrior descending from the heavens. He lured the dog away with a steamed bun, allowing Xie Yuzhu to snatch back her bracelet from the beast’s jaws.
Her joy was brief, however, as she remembered that while she had recovered the bracelet, she had lost the master she had just acknowledged that very day. Seeing her at a loss, the fortune teller cast a divination for her, and within the span of a single cup of tea, he led her to meet Ye Minwei.
Xie Yuzhu recounted this story vividly. The fortune teller then continued with a sigh, “Unlucky, so unlucky. You all have been unlucky before, unlucky today, and will continue to be unlucky henceforth.”
Xie Yuzhu grew anxious. After all, in the past half month, she had been caught and dragged home whenever she tried to run away, fallen into nightmares when seeking nightmare arts, and lost her master right after accepting him. The fortune teller’s words on misfortune matched her experience to the letter.
She asked, “Master Cangshu, what is going on? Is there any way to break this curse?”
The fortune teller extended his bandaged hand, deftly manipulating his fingers before exhaling a long breath. “For now, you must travel with someone born in a Yang year, Yin month, Yang day, and Yin hour to dispel this misfortune.”
“There happens to be such a person here,” Wen Ci said, pointing to Ye Minwei.
The fortune teller turned and declared confidently, “To reverse Miss Xie’s fate alone, one person of such birth is sufficient. But to change the fortunes of all three present, two such individuals are required.”
“Then the other must be—”
“Exactly. I myself was born in a Yang year, Yin month, Yang day, and Yin hour. If you travel with me, the evil will be dispelled, and disasters avoided. I only take on this number per day. It’s a bargain.” The fortune teller held up three fingers.
Wen Ci snorted coldly, his gaze on the fortune teller like one sizing up a fraud.
The fortune teller proceeded to tell of his childhood, how he was grievously burned by fire yet survived and gained supernatural power. Though his body was wrapped in bandages, his mind was as clear as a mirror, and his predictions always hit the mark.
Ye Minwei interrupted, curious as if hearing such claims for the first time. “You can foresee fate?”
“Of course,” the fortune teller replied without hesitation.
“How can you foresee it?”
“Have you heard of the Book of Changes?”
With practiced ease, the fortune teller drew three copper coins from his pocket and tossed them on the table. The coins spun and settled, and he pointed at them, saying, “Observe, the coins fall as Yin and Yang, this forms a line. Six lines make a hexagram, which reveals the past and future, fortune and misfortune.”
Ye Minwei looked down at the three coins and gently turned each over with her fingers. “But how can a person’s fate depend on these three coins?”
***
How could three copper coins be linked to fate? The fortune teller recalled, “The Book of Changes says…”
“The Book of Changes speaks of Heaven, Earth, and Man as the three powers. Combining them yields six lines, forming sixty-four hexagrams, each line and hexagram bearing a revelation. But why is this so?”
“Why? You ask why? Do you mean—”
Ye Minwei considered for a moment, pointing toward the dishes on the table. “Take this dish, for example. You know it contains chicken and mushrooms, you’ve tasted it, but do you know how it was prepared? The Book of Changes is the same. Knowing the hexagrams and their meanings is one thing, but how these meanings are derived is another. The concepts of Yin and Yang, Qian, Dui, Li, Ze, Xun, Kan, Kun, Zhen—they are vague. If these require human interpretation, errors are inevitable. It should be precise, measurable entirely by numbers and graphics. Then all paths of fate would be clear and fixed.”
The fortune teller opened his eyes wide, watching Ye Minwei. She summarized, “So, how exactly does fate connect with hexagrams? There must be a thorough, step-by-step calculation of cause and effect, each link connected.”
“I don’t understand what you’re saying… How can the human heart be measured by numbers?”
“If the human heart cannot be measured by numbers, then what are these three coins, these six lines, these sixty-four hexagrams?”
“That can only be a rough approximation. Nothing so precise exists…”
“Why can’t it be precise? Since these numbers exist, isn’t it to resolve possibilities from chaos? If so, even the smallest chaos within the known can be determined layer by layer.”
“Secrets of Heaven cannot be revealed; the gods decide. Such detailed precision is beyond human effort!”
“Heaven’s secrets? Gods?” Ye Minwei looked into the fortune teller’s eyes and asked doubtfully, “Why hand over the unknown to gods who understand even less? You hold these three coins and have touched fate, grasping such powerful laws. Isn’t it a pity not to know what these laws truly are? Is mere acceptance enough? Even if divine secrets were ten parts, one must calculate nine parts, leaving only one part to revere as divine, isn’t that right?”
The fortune teller was momentarily stunned.
Ye Minwei was like a newly born innocent child, asking questions of someone who had long since walked far along life’s path. Yet no matter how far he went, he could not answer her. Perhaps the farther one journeyed, the less one could answer.
Meanwhile, Wen Ci’s expression relaxed, clearly in good spirits.
He even leisurely picked up his chopsticks, eating between Ye Minwei’s continuous questions, and casually remarked to Xie Yuzhu, who was watching the spectacle, “The braised prawns aren’t bad.”
The verbal duel had reached its final round. The fortune teller, sounding weary, said, “So… so you simply don’t believe me.”
Ye Minwei frowned, answering sincerely, “I don’t know what to believe.”
After a pause, she asked, “Are you trying to persuade me?”
The fortune teller was left speechless, while Wen Ci laughed outright, covering his mouth with his chopsticks to suppress it, and said to Xie Yuzhu with ease, “The roasted goose isn’t bad either.”
The fortune teller’s meal was probably one of frustration, neither satisfying nor bearable, so he fled halfway through. After he left, Xie Yuzhu at last asked, “Do you think Master Cangshu is a fraud? But he did predict where my master was.”
Wen Ci replied leisurely, “I was tangled up with her during the procession; people for several blocks around came to watch, so the news spread far. This fortune teller led you to us within a cup of tea’s time, meaning you weren’t far apart. He likely saw us just after the procession and then met you. You were looking for someone with white hair and rosy cheeks—who else but the procession’s leader?”
After a pause, he sneered, “But… a master? Ha… Ye Minwei taking on apprentices too—truly a rare thing.”
***
Perhaps due to his good mood, Wen Ci’s tone was much gentler than the night before.
He picked at his food, indifferent. “Miss Xie, you’re brave. Don’t you know what kind of reputation she has?”
“I believe my master is a good person. There must be some misunderstanding,” Xie Yuzhu answered earnestly.
Wen Ci’s chopsticks paused; he looked at Xie Yuzhu, seemingly surprised. “Why do you think Ye Minwei is good?”
“My master saved me from fire and water many times in nightmares. And when I was scared and babbling, my master listened carefully and remembered every word. Such care must come from a kind heart.”
Wen Ci raised an eyebrow, his eyes suddenly filled with pity.
He turned to Ye Minwei and abruptly asked, “When we went upstairs just now, how many steps were there?”
Ye Minwei answered instantly, “Eleven.”
“What was the first sentence the fortune teller said to us?”
“‘Those who see the abyssal fish are ill-fated, aging before their time; those who repent without remedy are unfortunate, persistent pursuit brings harm; those who are blind and unaware do not know, acting recklessly lose their way.’”
She recited it word for word. Not only that, Wen Ci then asked about the order of the Nightmare Master Alliance’s groups. Ye Minwei recited the entire sequence from the long wooden nameplate as if it stood right before her.
As Wen Ci and Ye Minwei exchanged words, Xie Yuzhu’s eyes grew wider and wider. Wen Ci then turned to her and said, “See? She’s got a problem. Everything she sees and hears, no matter how trivial, she remembers. She can’t even forget if she wanted to. Do you know why she gets dizzy and nauseous when around many people? Because people carry the most complex information, and she absorbs so much at once it overflows like a flood filling a bottle.”
“Do you think she wants to remember you? Do you think she cares about you? Do you think she truly values you? It’s just her illness!”
Xie Yuzhu was left stunned and speechless.
Wen Ci wasn’t finished. His tone grew colder, almost like a blade: “Looks like you haven’t figured it out yet. When dealing with Ye Minwei, the greatest taboo is self-delusion.”
Ye Minwei paid no mind to Wen Ci’s mockery. She simply found it fascinating, as if discovering for the first time that aside from nightmare masters’ memory loss, people can naturally forget.
She asked, “Am I the only one who remembers everything? Don’t you remember?”
Xie Yuzhu felt these two were talking at cross purposes, making it hard to imagine if their past conversations had always been such a tangled mess.
While the meal was lively here, the “fraud” Master Cangshu sat quietly in his room on the second floor of the inn, fingering the copper coins.
Xie Yuzhu had generously paid for his room for the night, so after days of hardship, he finally had shelter for one night.
He failed to secure a travel companion’s protection, but before leaving, he shamelessly asked the three striking strangers for three copper coins each, claiming they were for warding off evil and disasters. They probably didn’t believe him but paid up to avoid his pestering.
Now, those nine copper coins clinked softly in Cangshu’s gaunt, bandaged hands, striking each other as he sat upright, deep in thought.
The candlelight cast his shadow on the paper window, motionless as if painted there. After a long time, the shadow slowly bowed its head. Cangshu stared at the coins in his hand; the flickering candlelight reflected in his one intact right eye, as if the flame danced not on the candle but deep within his gaze.