Fortune 030: Meeting

“Master Chi, it’s been a long time.” Judge Cui Jue’s brows knit slightly as he regarded the once world-renowned lord of Zhaoyao Mountain. He and Chi You had not seen each other in a thousand years, but now, looking at him, Chi You’s bearing was as striking as ever. “Master Chi, do you have business to discuss?”

“You’re certainly direct,” Chi You replied, idly turning the teacup in his palm. “Can’t I just be here to see an old friend?”

“I’m busy,” Cui Jue answered bluntly. “Forgive my candor, Chi You, but if there were nothing important, you wouldn’t bother stepping outside your own door, would you? What’s wrong, not comfortable in the mortal world? What brings you down to the Underworld?”

Since the Underworld’s reforms, most affairs had been handed over to intelligent AI, which meant many lower-level staff were no longer needed… In short, anything a robot couldn’t handle was passed up the chain, and with fewer people, those at the top of the pyramid were even busier.

Chi You smiled calmly, showing not a trace of irritation. “I’ve taken on a junior apprentice. Look after him for me—he needs to learn to defy fate within three years. How can he do that without some trials?”

“An apprentice? You’ve taken a disciple?”

“I’m only taking him on behalf of my master.” Thinking of Nan Shi’s ridiculous antics, Chi You actually felt a bit like he’d been tricked, and couldn’t help but frown.

When they first met, Nan Shi hadn’t been like this at all. He’d been calm, bold, and discerning, composed even in the face of a group of fierce ghosts who could have torn him to pieces at any moment. Who would have thought that in less than a month, his true colors would be revealed?

Cui Jue knew about Nan Shi—Chi You bringing someone down to the Underworld naturally meant passing through his hands. But at the time, Chi You had been perfunctory, sending only a letter with not a word of the past, just instructions for him to handle things.

He laughed. “Your apprentice is still young. Teach him patiently—who hasn’t been a bit unruly at that age?”

Chi You nodded. “That’s true.”

“Well, I understand. If there’s nothing else, I’ll excuse myself—I’ve got three more meetings to attend.” Cui Jue reached up to rub his brow.

“Then I’ll take my leave.” Chi You rose, the hem of his black robe trailing elegantly along the marble floor, making a faint rustling sound. Qing He, at his side, lifted the curtain for him. Chi You, hands clasped behind his back, didn’t look back as he said, “Come to my house for a drink after work.”

Cui Jue let his straight-backed posture relax, sinking into his chair. His pale, almost blue-white hand pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, lit one, and took a drag. “Not coming. No time. I’m working overtime.”

“As you wish.” Chi You gave a soft snort, the curtain falling to hide his figure.

Qing He followed Chi You out of the Cui residence before respectfully asking, “Master, the young master is still so young. Is it not too much to ask Judge Cui for help?”

Chi You’s voice came from within the sedan chair. “I have my own judgment.”

“Yes, Master,” Qing He replied softly.

When had all the household servants started siding with Nan Shi? Chi You didn’t bother to ask.

He touched his brow lightly with his forefinger. “No matter. Let Qing Lan look after him.”

“Yes, Master.”

After all, he’d finally taken on a disciple—was it just to see him die young?

Chi You’s party soon returned to the Chi residence. As soon as he stepped out of the sedan, he saw Steward Zhou waiting. As Chi You approached, Steward Zhou stepped forward to report, “Master, the young master is waiting to see you in the front hall.”

“Oh? Why not have him come to the study?” Chi You asked.

Steward Zhou gave a wry smile. “Master, I did ask, but the young master said the front hall was fine… I suppose being left on the street hurt his feelings a bit. He’s still young, after all—a child at heart.”

Chi You made no comment, his tone cool. “You’re all siding with him, I see.”

“I wouldn’t dare,” Steward Zhou replied, falling into step beside Chi You, who was clearly heading for the study in the rear courtyard.

Chi You’s lips curled into a faint, unreadable smile. “Spoiling him, are you? Tell him to come to the study.”

“Yes, Master.” Steward Zhou stepped aside and hurried off to the front hall to fetch Nan Shi.

***

After yesterday, Nan Shi could be said to have made a name for himself. Everyone at the night market now knew about this fortune-teller Nan. Once his blind boxes sold out, he’d start fortune-telling, so the blind box business was booming—he cleared out his stall in less than half an hour.

“Fortune-teller Nan, time to tell some fortunes!” someone called out from the crowd.

“Why are so many people waiting for me to tell their fortunes?” Nan Shi chuckled, switching his sign to ‘Fortune-telling.’

Someone shouted, “Get a reading and you’ll get a partner! How can I miss out on a deal like this?”

“Fortune-teller Nan, give me a chance! I don’t care if it’s a man, woman, dead, or alive! As long as it’s a person! Hermaphrodites are fine too!”

“I’m not like them! I’ll take a demon, too!”

“Where’s your shame?”

“If I can get out of being single, who needs shame!”

Nan Shi laughed and cupped his hands to the crowd, signaling them to quiet down. He brought up a ticketing interface on his sign and announced, “Still a hundred per reading. If you want a fortune, take a number and come over.”

The crowd, well-behaved, came up to take their numbers, then waited nearby.

The first customer was a burly man in his thirties, left arm tattooed with a green dragon, right with a white tiger, and an ox in the middle. His tight white tank top did nothing to hide his tattoos—he looked every bit the street’s top boss, just hand him a watermelon knife.

The man flashed a set of gleaming white teeth. “Mr. Nan, could you tell me how my wife’s doing up above? Did she remarry? Did my son get into a good primary school? I died unexpectedly, never got to settle things. I don’t know how to do this dream-sending stuff, and I’m still worried.”

That one was easy.

Nan Shi asked for his birth date and time, and for once didn’t take a shortcut with character readings—he honestly drew up a natal chart.

A natal chart arranges a person’s birth data into the twelve palaces of Purple Star Astrology, calculating life palace, career, travel, wealth, and so on, with hundreds of stars mapped into the palaces, reflecting a person’s entire life.

As he worked, Nan Shi said, “You’re my first customer today, so I won’t charge extra. Please give me your wife’s and child’s birth dates and times, and I’ll check them too.”

Who doesn’t love a bargain? The man grinned and rattled off the numbers. Nan Shi was a little surprised—plenty of people remember their partner’s birthday, but knowing the exact birth hour was rare.

He quickly drew up three charts and began explaining: “With Ju Men (giant gate) in your life palace, you’re bold and straightforward, but sometimes too blunt, which can lead to trouble. Still, you have strong leadership…”

He realized the man only wanted to know about his wife and son, so he cut to the chase. The man had Taiyang (sun) in his marriage palace, with malefic stars—signifying separation by death.

If you were here asking Nan Shi for a fortune, you were already a ghost—no point sugarcoating.

He checked the wife’s chart. Hers had Zi Wei (imperial star) in the life palace—beautiful, and in the marriage palace, Tian Xiang (celestial minister) with six auspicious stars, indicating a second marriage, and a happy one at that. The marriage palace’s luck would turn next year, so that was probably when she’d remarry.

Nan Shi watched the man’s expression carefully, worried that the truth might get him punched into the hospital. “Your wife’s doing well. Starting next year, she’ll enter a decade of good fortune, especially in finances. Her marriage palace’s luck also turns next year—she may remarry then.”

The man’s son had an interesting fate: San Qi Gui Ren (three auspicious qi configuration).

San Qi Gui Ren is a special combination in the chart, involving three specific heavenly stems and earthly branches. Those with this fate are destined for greatness—prime ministers or pillars of the nation.

“Your son’s chart is excellent—San Qi (three marvels) with lucky stars. He’ll be rich and successful! In ancient times, he’d be a prince or a minister—maybe not quite emperor level, but definitely a great talent. You should send him a dream, tell him to go into civil service—he’ll do great things.”

The man’s face went from pale to flushed at the news of his wife remarrying, but when he heard about his son’s bright future, he perked up. “…Mr. Nan, will my wife be happy if she remarries?”

“They’ll be happy together,” Nan Shi replied.

“That’s good.” The man sighed in relief, waving his hand. “It’s my own fault for dying young—I can’t blame her for remarrying! If my boy does well, it’s all thanks to her raising him right. Now I can rest in peace!”

He sent Nan Shi a thousand yuan on the spot. “Thank you, Mr. Nan! I’ll be off now!”

Nan Shi didn’t check how much he’d received—no one would dare try to cheat the main system anyway. He smiled and saw the man off. As soon as the man left, the girl with number two hurried over. “Fortune-teller Nan, I’m about to be reincarnated—can you tell me what my next life will be like?”

Nan Shi: “Huh? You know when you’ll be reincarnated?”

“I do!” She scribbled a string of numbers and handed them over, whispering, “Just three days left—no need to keep it secret… Please check. If it’s not good, I’ll pull some strings to get my birth time moved up.”

“You can do that?”

She winked, looking mischievous. “Why not? For my future, my mom would wait an extra two hours. If I want to be born earlier, just schedule a C-section.”

Nan Shi felt his worldview expanding. A C-section was one thing, but if her mom had to endure two extra hours of pain, she’d probably want to strangle her daughter and her husband for good measure. He reminded her, “I’ve never done this kind of reading before—it might not be accurate.”

“No problem, I just want peace of mind.” The girl was very understanding, promising not to hold him responsible.

Nan Shi nodded, drew up a chart, and the girl asked eagerly, “Well, sir? What’s my fate next life?”

Drawing up a chart was simple, just tedious, and there were rules for every step. Times changed, and so did the tools—modern fortune-tellers used free online calculators.

Of course, the real skill was in interpreting the chart. “In your next life, you’ll have a short lifespan—major disasters at ages two, eight, and eighteen. After eighteen, things smooth out, but at forty, there are three more calamities, all involving separation or death. Be careful.”

“You’ll be pretty, clever, and eloquent, but naturally suspicious. Watch out for arguments—this will cause early career setbacks, but things improve later. Your marriage palace shows troubled romance—don’t rush into marriage. Best to live together first. You’ll have a daughter.”

Nan Shi finished in one breath. The girl’s smile faded. “Seriously? Six disasters? Heaven doesn’t want me to live, huh?!”

“Can you check the hours before and after? If not, I’ll move my birth up a day or two. Sorry, future mom!—One chart, one hundred, I know the rules!”

Nan Shi agreed, and checked the hours before and after, but whether it was her fate or not, after more than twenty charts—going back two or three days—there still wasn’t a very good fate.

The girl’s face grew gloomier. “Sir, can you pick one for me?”

Nan Shi thought it over and pointed to one. “Don’t worry too much. Fate is shaped by circumstance, and stars can change. There may be a turnaround… This one’s not bad—only two disasters. Get through those, and it’ll be smooth sailing.”

“Alright!” She paid quickly and hurried off with her chart.

Then came number three, number four…

When the clock struck midnight, Nan Shi finally breathed a sigh of relief. There were still plenty of people in line, but he didn’t want to keep going, telling them to come back tomorrow. Most of the questions were trivial—finding people or things, romance, compatibility, and naming.

This was a far cry from defying fate.

Old Li had said he could take Nan Shi to the mortal world. At first, Nan Shi was excited, thinking if he could get a visa and stay up there, being dead or alive wasn’t much different—except people couldn’t see him. But then he realized, wait, would his master let him get away with that?

Definitely not.

And who wouldn’t want to live, if they could? His grandmother still didn’t know—how long could he keep it hidden?

He still had to think of a way.

The real issue was, Nan Shi had no idea how to actually defy fate.

It was a completely different kind of operation.

Fortune-telling could be divided into three levels.

The first level: using birth data and other methods to know what is about to happen, or what has already happened. Most street fortune-tellers are at this level.

The second level: using the same methods to foresee what’s coming, and then correct the course of events so things go as desired.

This is what you see in TV dramas—“I see your brow is dark, a disaster is coming. Here’s a talisman—burn it and drink the ashes, and you’ll be safe.” They can help others avoid calamity and change the future.

Like when Zhuge Liang lit the seven-star lamps at Wuzhang Plains to extend his life—this is also a form of correction, and can count as defying fate.

The third level is overturning events that have already happened, rewriting established facts. This is the true defiance of fate, like a game cheat.

In theory, defying fate could go as far as: say your parents died when you were young. After a fortune-teller defies fate for you, you discover your parents never died—you were switched at birth, and it was your foster parents who died. Or your parents suddenly return, saying their “death” was a misunderstanding, and they’ve been alive all along but couldn’t come back for various reasons.

Or, even more extreme, your memory is changed—go home, and your parents are alive and well.

Nan Shi cursed to himself. Are levels one, two, and three even in the same category? It’s like comparing one meter, a hundred meters, and the diameter of the Milky Way.

As the saying goes, “Immortal pills are easy to find, but medicine for regret is hard to come by.” The third level is the ultimate medicine for regret!

How could it be so easy? Three years? Even thirty years might not be enough.

He’d only seen Chi You do it once—at Qingyun Temple. He’d heard later that there was a particularly talented disciple there, but with a terrible fate. When Chi You arrived, the disciple was at death’s door, and the temple’s granduncle begged Chi You to defy fate so the disciple could live in peace.

That person wasn’t even dead, and Chi You had nearly been struck by lightning. Strictly speaking, what Chi You did was only second level—he corrected an outcome that hadn’t happened yet.

But Nan Shi himself was dead as could be! His body already had livor mortis! That had to be the third level, right?

Nan Shi tapped his brow, realizing he couldn’t just charge ahead blindly. Clearly, this wasn’t something you could just muddle through.

He immediately cast a divination for himself. The omen showed his benefactor was in the south, and that if he entered a golden hall (meaning a grand, imposing residence, or the home of someone in power), he’d get the answer he sought.

Nan Shi followed the omen for a while, looked up, and—there it was: the Chi residence.

Perfectly matching the omen.

What else could he do?

Go in, of course!

Nan Shi was smarter now—when in doubt, cast a divination first. He asked the same question from three different angles, and each time the omen was very auspicious. Only then did he go in, find Steward Zhou, and wait in the front hall for his master to return.

Steward Zhou told him to go to the study, but Nan Shi thought the front hall would be easier for a quick escape.

If only he hadn’t made faces at his master at dusk!

Why had he been so stupid?

Why couldn’t he control himself?!