Fortune 012: New Guest

“Mountain over Lake, Prime Auspice.” A few copper coins dropped from the tortoiseshell and landed on the table in three heads and three tails, forming a hexagram. According to the changing lines, it was the Mountain over Lake hexagram , and the text read “prime auspice”—the highest possible fortune.

There are only two hexagrams in the I Ching described as “prime auspice”: one is Mountain over Lake (https://www.jamesfengshui.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/04/Hexagram-41-Sun-%E5%B1%B1%E6%B3%BD%E6%8D%9F.jpg), the other is Fire over Wind (https://www.jamesfengshui.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/04/Hexagram-50-Ding-%E7%81%AB%E9%A3%8E%E9%BC%8E.jpg).

In plain terms, these two auguries mean: Everything will go splendidly, whatever you do will succeed, you’re the best—tonight, you’ll win the game! Even if you lose connection halfway through, someone (a friend) will carry you to victory, and you’ll still be the MVP.

Nan Shi refused to take it at face value. He put the coins back in the tortoiseshell and cast again. Sure enough, this time, he drew Fire over Wind.

Nan Shi couldn’t contain a string of curses. If he really believed these two auguries, he’d absolutely think some great fortune was about to descend from the heavens. He’d go home, elated, and his senior brother would grant him some miraculous enlightenment, pass all his cultivation to him in a single moment, fulfill his life’s wishes, bequeath him billions in sect assets, then disappear into reincarnation without a care. That was the magnitude of luck these fortunes implied.

It was clear to him now—his senior brother had just been teasing. What was the meaning of “draw two fortunes before returning, to see if you should go home”?

What an auspicious omen—only to come home to a beating?

There’s a saying among fortune-tellers: “You can read others’ fate, but not your own.”

Which is to say, no matter how accurate Master Meng Guan is with others, he’s rarely right about himself.

Nan Shi heartily agreed. He pushed the tortoiseshell aside in distaste, flopped down on the table, and let out a tremendous sigh.

Since his left hand had already been hit, this time the blow landed on his left arm. Luckily, there hadn’t been many customers during the day, so his last-minute cramming paid off—he answered all the questions and even guessed correctly when he didn’t know. Only the final recitation tripped him up with a wrong character, bringing down a slap.

Qing Lan knocked softly on the door, bringing salve with her. “Young master, let me treat your wound.”

“Thank you.” Nan Shi rolled up his sleeve, left his left arm on the table, buried his head in the crook of his right, and started playing today’s newly released episode on his tablet.

Qing Lan very considerately stood on the other side, keeping herself at a spot where Nan Shi wouldn’t see her unless he turned around on purpose. In a quiet voice, she said, “Young master, this may sting a little.”

“Oh.” He hadn’t finished speaking when he let out a sharp yelp. His left hand jerked away from her jade pick. “What is that stuff? Why does it hurt so much?”

“Replying to the young master, it’s the sect’s secret Linshuang Ointment, most effective for bruises and injuries,” Qing Lan said mildly.

Nan Shi’s eyes went wide. “…Wait, where did you even get that?”

“It was always kept in the sect—but nowadays, many of the ingredients are already extin—”

“Wait, wait—so you mean you brought it from my senior brother’s tomb?” Nan Shi cut her off, shaking his head wildly. “Come on, Qing Lan, I never treated you badly, but you want me to use ointment that’s been sitting in some tomb or room for who knows how long? Don’t medicines expire?”

Qing Lan was just about to explain the preservation method when Nan Shi continued, “I’ll just use Yunnan Baiyao spray! Since it’s so precious, let’s save it!”

The real issue wasn’t whether it was precious or effective—it was that it hurt!

Damn it, if Nan Shi weren’t sure Qing Lan wouldn’t be so deranged as to burn him, he’d have thought she’d set him on fire!

“Yes, young master.” Qing Lan couldn’t quite suppress a laugh. She turned to fetch Nan Shi’s own Yunnan Baiyao and applied it instead—after that dab of Linshuang Ointment, the minor bruise would heal soon enough.

The cool spray of Yunnan Baiyao instantly wiped away the fiery pain. Nan Shi breathed out in relief and poked at his tablet. “By the way, I have a question.”

Qing Lan was packing up to leave, but paused and bowed respectfully. “What would young master like to ask?”

Nan Shi rubbed his fingers together, his voice low. “I don’t mean any offense… I’m just curious, what’s the cost of living down below like nowadays? When I burned my senior brother a whole pack of spirit ingots today, it looked like a lot, but what if there’s inflation and it only buys a bowl of noodles—that’d be pretty embarrassing.”

“My parents and grandfather are down there too, you see. If it isn’t worth much, I’ll burn some more. Would burning spirit-paper villas or servants actually work?” He wasn’t some kind of protagonist; when his parents died, he was still very young. He didn’t remember much of those days—life wasn’t especially hard, but it wasn’t easy either. His parents were always busy with work.

If burning paper people and paper houses really worked, then their prodigal son could at least let his parents enjoy themselves a bit—maybe not high-end clubs, but surely a couple of maids to wash feet and knead shoulders would be fine.

This was the first time Nan Shi had ever asked about ‘down below,’ so Qing Lan answered candidly, “Young master needn’t worry—it’s more than enough. When there’s nothing to do, I keep an eye on prices too. A single silver ingot is about equal to three hundred yuan in the living world.”

“Of course, the value of a silver ingot depends on its quality—it’s best if given with sincerity. But for young master, that’s not easy to judge. With time, you’ll understand.”

“As for paper servants, these are unsanctioned and tend to be taken over by wandering spirits and lonely ghosts, which can cause trouble. If young master truly wishes to help, it’s best to consult the mountain master.”

“I see.” Nan Shi said with some regret, “Thank you—go ahead and do what you need.”

He’d ask Chi You about it another time—no sense poking the tiger’s whiskers for now.

Qing Lan bent her knees in a little curtsy and withdrew with her things. The room fell silent, except for the chirping tablet playing a colorful spider’s comedic food review.

Nan Shi lay on the table watching. His eyelids drooped lower and lower, and he drifted into a sweet sleep.

Who knew how long he slept? By the time the episode finished, the tablet auto-played the next video. Whatever it was, the music was eerie. The fluorescent lights in the room flickered, then popped out altogether.

On the small screen, a bride in red appeared. Behind her hung a blood-red ‘double happiness’ character. The surroundings were stiflingly dark—the two dragon-and-phoenix candles barely holding back the gloom, their flames trembling in every faint draft. Just looking at it sent shivers down the spine.

She stood there very still, saying nothing.

The sound of the lights going out roused Nan Shi from his sleep. With a muffled groan, he gazed at the strange image on his tablet. Disgusted, he slapped the tablet face-down on the table and stretched.

Halfway through his stretch, a veiled bride appeared before him.

Nan Shi was a little shaken, but rolled his eyes. “Qing Lan, quit trying to scare me, would you? I’m immune to your tricks by now…”

“Young master, did you call for me?” Qing Lan’s voice came from the doorway.

Nan Shi froze. He looked at Qing Lan in her gentle blue dress, then at the red-clad bride standing nearby. “…Uh? Then that must be—”

He hadn’t even finished the word “ghost” when the bride cut him off with a hasty apology: “Sorry, I’ve entered the wrong door. Pretend I was never here.”

The ghost bride glanced at the calmly poised old ghost lurking nearby, then at the seemingly ordinary youth before her. She’d thought this was just a regular person, and recognizing a familiar aura, had popped in to take a look—she never expected to blunder into a big shot!

Nan Shi: “……”

Thanks for the invite—I’ve been scared senseless.

Truthfully, proximity changes people; spending so much time with Chi You, Nan Shi’s bearing had grown more refined. The way he gazed back, silent and composed, could really be intimidating.

Qing Lan stepped behind Nan Shi, giving the ghost bride a barely perceptible smile, as if to say: “I could handle you right now.”

Whether from fear or weak knees, the ghost bride collapsed in a heap, her veil tumbling off. She raised her hand to swear: “Really, this is my first time—I’m sorry, I won’t scare people for fun ever again!”

Nan Shi: “…?”

The ghost bride was quite a pretty girl, a little plump, with black-rimmed glasses. If not for the red wedding dress and bright lipstick, no one would have guessed she was a menacing ghost.

Seemingly struck by inspiration, she whipped out a dark-red document embossed with three big characters: “Vengeance Permit.”

“I have a vengeance permit! I’m legally avenging myself! I only thought my target might have met you, so I just wanted to sca—ask about their whereabouts!”

At this, Nan Shi felt a surge of delight—all fear vanished.

At last, someone was coming to consult him about an actual enemy!

Finally, it wasn’t someone searching for a cat or dog, money, or missing things!

This was truly wonderful!

Nan Shi coughed lightly and centered himself. It was time to put on a show.

He lifted a hand with a gentle smile. “Fate has brought us together. Miss, you need not be afraid. Qing Lan, prepare tea.”

Qing Lan glanced at Nan Shi in some surprise, but lowered her eyes and replied, “At once, sir.”

She withdrew, thoughtfully flicking the lights back on as she went—because if the lights were out, her young master would definitely get scared.

“Sir…?” The ghost bride smoothed her dress and asked cautiously, “You are…?”

“I’m just an ordinary man,” Nan Shi replied serenely, but his hand slowly gathered up the fallen copper coins, stacking each like a mountain peak, pouring them into the tortoiseshell with a clear, ringing sound.

He couldn’t have hinted more clearly!

Come, Miss! Let me divine your enemy’s whereabouts! Take your rightful revenge!

He wouldn’t charge her either!

Today, all consultations for guests were free!—Those looking for cats or dogs before didn’t count!

Propping herself up on the doorframe, the ghost bride took her seat at Nan Shi’s gesture. She hesitated, then sat down opposite him.

The ghost bride thought picking a seat near the door was very clever—if anything went wrong, she could bolt.

Really, she shouldn’t have let her mad whim lead her to try haunting everyone connected to her target!

And hadn’t she chosen the wrong mark?

Looking across at the calm, mild-mannered youth with an unremarkable tortoiseshell that might have been bought at a market, she felt as if the thing pulsed with mystical energy. For the first time, she wanted to bang her head into a wall.

So this was the legendary ghost-hunter’s tool!

Please, what’s the most sincere way to apologize so that a big shot won’t destroy you?

Urgent—answers needed!