Fortune 009: Celestial Elegance

The gates of Qingyun Temple stood wide open, yet only a single elder Daoist with snow-white hair and beard waited within. Upon seeing Chi You and his party approach, he bowed formally and said, “Master Chi, I’ve long awaited your arrival.”

“Mm,” Chi You responded coolly, his demeanor starkly different from the proud, mocking, poised, and gently smiling senior brother Nan Shi was accustomed to. It was as if he were a completely different person. Chi You’s expression was almost cold, his gaze sweeping over the old Daoist without a ripple of emotion, after which he gave the man no further heed, striding directly inside.

The old Daoist seemed not to mind, falling a step behind to walk alongside Nan Shi.

Amidst such lifelessness, there was this living, breathing person—strikingly conspicuous, much like a beacon in the dark. The old Daoist gave Nan Shi a deeply meaningful look, yet refrained from questioning him.

Nan Shi, for his part, had this merit: tact and awareness. Even under such scrutiny, he felt no discomfort. Instead, he merely inclined his head politely to the old Daoist and followed after Chi You with single-minded focus.

Chi You walked through Qingyun Temple as though he’d been there countless times, bypassing the main hall dedicated to the Three Pure Ones and leading them deeper and deeper into ever more remote quarters, until at last, he halted before a dilapidated little courtyard. The old Daoist stepped forward and knocked on the door: “Grand-Uncle, Master Chi has arrived.”

A hoarse, ancient voice answered from within, drifting out from afar: “This humble Daoist is unwell and cannot come to greet you in person. Master Chi, please, enter.”

Only then did the old Daoist open the door and gesture them inside.

Chi You’s expression was unmoved as he stepped within.

Nan Shi meant to follow, but noticed that Qing He and the others had halted outside; as he hesitated, he heard Chi You say, “A Nan, come in with me.”

“Yes,” Nan Shi hurried to catch up.

Once Nan Shi entered, the old Daoist closed the door behind him and took up a post beside it as still as a carved guardian.

The courtyard inside looked even more rundown than it did from outside, with cobwebs hanging in the corners. Still, at least the doors and windows were intact, or it truly would have looked like a haunted house movie set.

As Chi You approached the entry, the door swung open of its own accord. Inside, no lamps had been lit, yet the room did not seem dark at all; moonlight streamed in through the window, casting a crystalline clarity throughout.

Nan Shi peered within and saw an elderly man, gaunt as a skeleton, hunched on a couch. His face was hidden, his clothes ragged, and his hair wild and unkempt.

The sight startled Nan Shi, and he reflexively clenched his fist—though, remembering the voice he’d just heard, he settled himself:

He’s alive! No need to fear! He just looks a bit frightening, that’s all!

Chi You offered no courtesies, seating himself at the other end of the couch. His brows moved faintly as he remarked, “You’re dying.”

The other let out a couple of raspy laughs without lifting his head, still holding that strange pose. “Master Chi, your eyesight is keen… I still live, but not for long.”

“There’s still time for reincarnation.”

“No need.” The old Daoist added, “It was I who asked Master Chi for help—by rights I should have come to you, but instead I trouble you to come in person. My apologies.”

Chi You brushed his sleeve, utterly unhurried. “I don’t trouble myself over the dead.”

He seemed disinclined to waste words with this bizarre old man, so he asked directly, “What is it you seek?”

“I wish to ask after my disciple. How does he fare now?”

Chi You replied with a question, “Do you not already know?”

“Yes,” replied the old Daoist, his head still bowed. “That’s why I beg of Master Chi—change fate for my disciple, even against the order of Heaven.”

“Oh?” Chi You sounded mildly intrigued. “My only debt is to Master Qingyun—a single promise. After this, my account with him is settled. Are you certain you’ll have no regrets?”

Without the slightest hesitation, the old Daoist declared, “None.”

Nan Shi stood by, listening with growing astonishment—was his senior brother truly so formidable? To the point of defying Heaven to alter destiny, and even pausing to check if the client had any regrets?

He grew ever more curious.

But this was hardly the time to speak; later, he’d pepper his senior brother with questions.

“Very well.” Chi You raised a hand, and in the dim room, light suddenly flared. A thread of gold flashed from his fingertip, a countless stream of golden lights filling the chamber, and suddenly a wind rose, catching Nan Shi’s robe and setting it fluttering.

Nan Shi felt a strange sense of foreboding, looked up, and saw golden little fish appearing from thin air, swimming about the room before all seemed irresistibly drawn to Chi You’s fingertip, gradually forming a spinning golden vortex.

That vortex tightened upon itself, compressing into a searing point that burst apart—unfurling into an enormous Bagua disc. It spun slowly: the eight trigrams setting the directions, the ten Heavenly Stems fixing the times, the twelve Earthly Branches ordering the flow of days and nights, and outside all that, the constellations wheeled…

There were yet more things beyond, but Nan Shi could not make them out, as if some veil clouded his sight. All he saw were clusters of blurred radiance.

As the Bagua diagram rotated, these obscure lights constantly collided. Some, upon impact, dissolved into motes of light that faded into the air; others merged into larger halos, or dimmed to near-invisibility.

Nan Shi kept his eyes glued to the Bagua chart, having a hunch that this, perhaps, was the real reason Chi You had brought him here.

Chi You’s face was calm as a still pond, though the winds around him were fierce enough to whip his sleeves. He seemed not to notice in the least, his five fingers spread. Suddenly, the old Daoist intoned: “Seventh day of the first month, the year of Guiyou.”

“Mm,” Chi You replied lowly. The Bagua disc whirled more swiftly, settling suddenly at a particular point, only to swirl into confusion again as innumerable components fought for position.

Nan Shi suddenly heard, outside, the muffled roll of thunder—like the wrath of Heaven, rumbling warnings overhead.

Chi You remained wholly unfazed, his fingers flexing. The changes upon the Bagua disc accelerated, runes colliding and grinding to glittering dust, falling from the air and vanishing.

There was a sudden flare at the window—a streak of purple lightning split the heavens. Even through the glass it bathed the room and Chi You himself in eerie light, his black robe seemingly sheathed in violet gauze, purple tracing across the golden Bagua.

“Tch.” Chi You shook his sleeve, and the purple aura seemed to shatter, disappearing completely.

At last, the pent-up thunder broke. It crashed with such violence that the sound seemed to explode right beside Nan Shi’s ear, making him want to cover them.

Thunder followed, rolling in ceaseless waves—some near, some distant, flashes lighting the windows.

Suddenly, something outside exploded in bright light. Soon, distant shouts rang out: “The secondary hall is on fire—! Someone—! Fetch water—!”

At this, a trace of mockery—familiar to Nan Shi—finally appeared on Chi You’s otherwise impassive face. The Bagua disc under his hand spun so fast that Nan Shi could no longer make it out.

Nan Shi spared a glance at the old Daoist—he still sat motionless, head down, more like a corpse than a living being.

The Bagua began to slow, the act of fate-changing almost complete—when, abruptly, a bolt of lightning struck down and blasted the window away, tearing off a corner of the room and revealing the heavens.

Rain streamed in from the breach.

The window caught fire.

Despite the heavy downpour, the flames lapped at the window frame and began devouring the house.

The Bagua, its task complete, returned to its original form and idly spun at Chi You’s fingertips. Chi You finally glanced sidelong at the burning window, wearing a wholly contemptuous smile.

As if to say: Go on, strike if you dare. Hit me if you have the guts!

Watching from the side, Nan Shi couldn’t help giving Chi You a silent thumbs-up—for in this trade, fortune-telling was said to be a gift from the heavens, and his senior brother’s manner was the equivalent of hurling the rice bowl back in Heaven’s face, retorting, Take your charity and shove it! I’ll eat by my own hand!

The fire took hold at last, the heat already palpable to Nan Shi. Chi You brushed away the golden brilliance and said to him, “A Nan, let’s go.”

“Yes, Senior Brother.” Nan Shi followed on reflex, then abruptly glanced back at the old Daoist still sitting by the window—the very place where the blaze had first taken hold, flames now nearly upon him. “What about this Daoist…?”

“Leave him be,” said Chi You, about to step out, when Nan Shi suddenly whirled, hoisting the wizened Daoist over his shoulder and dashing for the exit, managing even to free a hand to drag Chi You in tow.

Chi You was half-pulled along, frowning, “What sort of behavior is this?!”

“Senior Brother, the place is on fire! This robe was stitched by hand, such a pity if it got scorched! Come on, let’s go!” Nan Shi, unable to tug Chi You into a run, thought at least hastening his pace would suffice.

The courtyard outside was different from before; now, some ten Daoists crowded within. Heaven knew what they were thinking—sitting in meditation in a thunderstorm. Nan Shi, noting most were quite elderly, thought the city hospital might soon receive a group booking.

He hurriedly called out, “Don’t just stand there, it’s your Grand-Uncle! Quickly, take him—how do you people not have anyone to attend such an old man?!”

Only now did Nan Shi notice the old man on his shoulder emitted a peculiar odor. But the Daoists came running—at least the few younger ones did—to take their elder into their charge.

“Many thanks, sir!”

“A debt beyond words!”

Nan Shi patted his shoulder, then turned to Chi You. “Senior Brother, let’s go home.”

“This rain is coming down hard. I’ll catch a cold if I stay out any longer.”

Chi You gave him a meaningful look.

Aside from those handling the old man, the other Daoists all rose and silently followed to see them off to their carriage.

It was remarkable—when they’d arrived, a single elder had greeted them; now, a host escorted them at departure.

Once aboard, and with the panels closed, Nan Shi shed his now-soaked outer robe in disgust and tossed it onto the seat, its length trailing on the carriage floor—he couldn’t be bothered.

Chi You, dry and composed, leaned lightly to one side and laughed. “What’s this? No longer holding our attire in such esteem?”

“It needs washing anyway; makes no difference,” Nan Shi waved a hand and closed in beside him. “Senior Brother, what were you doing just now?”

“Changing destiny.” Chi You didn’t try to conceal the truth. “How much were you able to see?”

“Once things started moving, I could barely make anything out.” Nan Shi couldn’t help his curiosity. “…You truly can change fate? Those bolts of lightning were unreal!”

Chi You gave a soft, dismissive snort, tossed back his wine and tapped the table, signaling Nan Shi to refill his cup. “What’s so strange about that? With diligent study, once you reach the proper realm, you’ll see this is merely…”

Nan Shi cut in, “A basic move? It gets more impressive still?”

Chi You: “…”

In that instant, any interest in conversation seemed to flee Chi You.

But seeing the light in Nan Shi’s eyes, he knew the trip hadn’t been in vain.

“By the way,” Chi You suddenly said with a sly smile, “When did you get so brave, A Nan?”

“…Huh? I haven’t, really.” Nan Shi was genuinely bewildered. He hadn’t done anything special.

“Is that so? Then why did you carry out someone’s remains from the fire?”

“I didn’t. The fire hadn’t gotten…” Nan Shi broke off, stiffly turning to his senior brother. “…What did you say?”

“Remains?”

Nan Shi’s head lolled sideways and, following Chi You’s words, he slumped weakly to the side.

Chi You started in surprise, then reached out to catch him before he could hit the floor, murmuring under his breath, “…How did I end up with such a useless disciple?”