Chapter 284: Fortune Telling

With preparations laid, it was time to strike while the iron was hot. The next day, Xu Fengnian followed the large group to Orange State City. He joined rough men like Feng Shanling, chatting idly and boasting—a completely different experience from discussing moral philosophy with old scholars like Mr. Luo. It was perhaps the difference between guzzling wine and sipping tea. Along the way, Xu Fengnian borrowed Feng Shanling's fine bow. With his arm strength, drawing it to a full moon was certainly no challenge. He tried shooting arrows a few times, his powerful presence evident. Fortunately, having just driven back horse bandits, the escorts weren't too surprised. Furthermore, Xu Fengnian wasn't some scoundrel trying to steal their livelihood, so they were happy to flatter him a bit and warm up relations. Networking, after all, was just about lifting each other up, creating mutual delight. Feng Shanling, by contrast, was more sincere. Now middle-aged, perhaps too much pent-up frustration weighed on his heart, more than wine could wash away. He simply wanted to ramble. When they were alone while picking up arrows, Feng Shanling told Xu Fengnian many old stories about Northern Liang. Seeing that Xu Fengnian showed no impatience, the old man's floodgates of conversation opened completely.

“When I first enlisted in the army, there were actually two choices: go to General Gu Jiantang’s old division, where battles were few and life was stable, but military merits would surely be snatched up by rich young masters. As a poor bachelor with nothing to lose, I figured I’d join the Northern Liang army. I had a small calculation too. Although the Northern Liang border wasn't peaceful, the Nine Kingdoms of the Spring and Autumn Period had fought for decades, and our great general had defeated six of them single-handedly. So, I thought that even if I went to the border, as long as I didn’t become a scout or those forward-charging light cavalry, it wouldn’t be easy to die. And I really did get lucky, becoming a siege crossbowman. Besides that one time the crossbow stand broke, I never really engaged in close combat with the barbarians. At first, after every battle, seeing those cavalrymen and foot soldiers with severed limbs or backs slashed open, my scalp would still tingle. But after fighting for a long time, and being cursed at by corporals and captains, and hearing old veterans talk about their achievements in the Spring and Autumn wars, my brothers would all clamor about how it wasn’t satisfying without killing. I was still afraid of death, of course. What common soldier in this world isn't afraid of death? But I thought that if one day it was truly my turn to rush forward and fight for my life, I wouldn't really be afraid of dying on the battlefield. At least my brothers would collect my body, and besides, I didn't have a wife to miss back then. If it were now, I wouldn't have that courage.”

“I remember clearly, I stayed in the Northern Liang army for three years and nine months. I never saw any big figures. The highest-ranking officer I saw was a sixth-rank young cavalry general. His mount was incredibly tall. But at the time, envy aside, when I thought that everyone used the same Northern Liang sabers, and even the Great General was no exception, there wasn’t anything to be jealous of.”

“Young Master Xu, it’s not that Old Feng is shrewd, but I sincerely advise you to learn some Northern Liang dialect. If one day the Northern Liang Iron Cavalry truly marches north and defeats the Southern Dynasty of Beiman, knowing some Northern Liang language will always be beneficial.”

As Feng Shanling rambled, they gradually neared the border town. Xu Fengnian distanced himself from Luo Changhe and his entourage, squatting by a dried-up river gully for a while, lost in thought. The third war between the two dynasties was the second and final time the Liyang Dynasty held the early advantage. Unfortunately, it failed at the last hurdle near Zidiao Terrace. At that time, under the meticulous planning of the former Grand Secretary and a group of high-ranking officials familiar with border defenses, including Gu Jiantang, the elite border troops of the nine Liaoyang garrisons came out in full force. With lightning speed, they marched a hundred li a day, advancing north from Zhenzhou on the ninth day of the sixth month in the third year of Honghan, arriving at Tunjin Terrace on the sixteenth, and reaching Yibing Town in Beiman's present-day Orange State on the seventeenth, where over six thousand defenders surrendered without a fight. On the nineteenth, they besieged Zhuzhou, then proceeded to the various fortresses of Yehuguan, intending to block Beiman's southern and western routes for troop deployment. However, their attempt to besiege a point to draw out and destroy reinforcements at the open Zidiao Terrace was mocked by later military strategists as conventional rather than ingenious warfare. The young Zhao emperor, personally leading an expedition for the first time, even made a joke of bestowing battle diagrams upon his generals. Had it not been for Gu Jiantang, stationed in Jinliao, defying the previously established orders and leading eight thousand elite troops to relieve the siege, and Northern Liang’s Chen Zhibao leading ninety thousand iron cavalry to charge north almost simultaneously with Gu's forces, like a chisel piercing into Nanjing Prefecture, the empire would not be what it is today.

Reining in his scattered thoughts, Xu Fengnian stood up and jogged to catch up with the large group. His Spring Thunder Saber, wrapped in cloth, was in his backpack. This town had a mixed civilian and military presence, and city gate checks were extremely strict. Amidst the sparse crowd, a woman walking slowly with her head bowed handed her travel permit to a spear-wielding city guard. After confirming it, the sturdy, armored young soldier glanced at the woman, frowned, and tapped her large, burdensome cloth bag with the tip of his spear. The woman slowly untied the strap slung across her chest, opened the cloth bag, and revealed a guqin, three chi, six cun, five fen long, a seven-stringed plantain leaf style with snake-belly crack patterns and a burnt tail.

The city guard, of course, was no connoisseur of such elegant objects and couldn't tell their value. Seeing that she appeared to be blind, he didn't make things difficult for her. Over ten thousand Crane Control troops were stationed outside the town, and governance was strict. He had already earned a few hundred copper coins in graft today and didn't dare to fleece her further, so he let her pass.

The woman wore Southern Dynasty attire, with narrow sleeves and a short skirt, and she wasn't wearing the veil hat unique to young ladies of good family. Perhaps practicing the guqin had given her a gentle temperament, for she walked softly and slowly. After entering the city, the market streets grew lively, with many children playing and running about. Several local bullies, who picked on the weak, were squatting by a street well, basking in the sun. Seeing such a frail woman entering the city alone and forlorn, they exchanged knowing glances. Taking advantage of the patrolling city guard not looking their way, one of the rogues feigned drunkenness, staggered over, and solidly bumped her shoulder. The woman carrying the guqin swayed predictably, nearly falling, but kept her head bowed, showing no expression. The man, a bachelor who could only survive by stealing neighborhood women's undergarments, grinned wider. After they brushed past each other, he spun around to grope the delicate woman's backside. He pinched her, sniffed his fingers, and drew uproarious laughter from his cronies on the street. The woman hurried her steps, not daring to reprimand him, which only boosted the rogue's arrogance. He quickened his pace to grab her, spouting nonsense, "Wifey, hurry home with your man to make babies! Why are you just wandering around?"

The woman, whose slender arm was grabbed, said nothing. The rogue was just thinking of opportunistically embracing her and indulging in some affection when a neatly dressed but roguish-looking young man, standing on the other side of the street, saw the scene. He didn’t have the sense to play the hero saving the beauty from injustice; he simply picked his nose and sneered, “Scarface Liu, can even *you* afford a wife? Sleeping with your mom would be more like it. Anyway, your old lady is the type ridden by thousands and laid by tens of thousands, one more won't make a difference.”

The ruffian, addressed as Scarface Liu, immediately turned red with rage. Without letting go of the woman’s soft, smooth arm, he turned and cursed loudly, “Susu, my balls, no matter how idle, are a hundred times better than yours! You’ve been with two old bachelors for over twenty years, has your butt blossomed yet?”

The young man finished picking his nose and started picking his earwax, his face unconcerned as he said, “An hour ago, I climbed your wall and had some intimate talk with your mom. Do you know what ‘six short and three long’ means? You, a greenhorn, definitely wouldn’t understand. Anyway, your old lady was very enthusiastic in bed. Maybe tomorrow I’ll become your cheap dad. Come on, say ‘Dad’ first.”

The young man made a thrusting motion with his waist. Scarface Liu, publicly humiliated, no longer cared about the woman. He looked around for something handy to hit with, but found nothing. He strode forward to teach a lesson to this good-for-nothing bastard whom he had beaten countless times without any improvement. The young man actually had rather refined features, but they were hidden by his thuggish demeanor. Seeing the situation was bad, he tried to run but was blocked from both ends by Scarface Liu’s five or six buddies. Cursing inwardly, he skillfully covered his head and face and took a thorough beating. Scarface Liu, especially, rolled up his sleeves and put all his strength into it, delivering a kick to Susu’s buttock. A wail was heard as Susu clutched his butt and fled. Scarface Liu and his gang then gave chase, grabbing benches from street tea houses and pubs and smashing them wildly. The legitimate vendors doing business on the street grumbled. This town wasn't particularly large, and after twenty years of living there, everyone knew these idle and lazy good-for-nothings inside out, knowing who they could curse at and who they should fight back against. Once Scarface Liu and his gang had vented their anger, they carelessly tossed the chairs back. The woman with the backpack was gone. This made Scarface Liu wish he could turn Susu's house upside down, but remembering the old bachelor's strength and arm power, he shrank his neck, feeling a chill. He could only ceaselessly curse Susu, hoping he’d get his asshole beaten off and never be able to defecate again.

The young man named Su, having suffered an unprovoked disaster for no reason, took a roundabout way, walking through several alleys. He squatted by the base of a wall, wiping away blood from the corner of his mouth with his thumb. His face was bruised and swollen, and his whole body ached. He pulled open his collar and saw a bruise on his shoulder, taking a sharp breath. He stood up, stood on tiptoe, and leaned over the top of the mud-brick wall, calling out a few times. In the end, he couldn't see the girl who sold scallion pancakes, nor did he see any women's undergarments or similar personal items on the bamboo pole used for drying clothes. Feeling a bit disappointed, he endured the stinging pain, whistled, and walked on, pretending to be carefree. Along the way, he pilfered a piece of cured meat, tossed it into his mouth, and just aimlessly wandered around the city. Xu Fengnian and the scholars checked into a high-class inn. Old Scholar Luo had already paid the silver, and Xu Fengnian didn't fuss over such trivial matters. He had arranged with Feng Shanling to have dinner at an old established restaurant they had just heard about. Since it wasn't yet dinnertime, he went out for a walk. After walking a few streets, he saw a simple fortune-telling stall under an old willow tree with a hollow trunk. The diviner wore a wrinkled, tattered Daoist robe and had two wisps of goatee. Business was slow, so he sat on a borrowed long bench, dozing off drowsily, his chin occasionally bumping against the cotton-covered tabletop. Xu Fengnian hesitated for a moment, then looked up at a limp flag, soft from the lack of wind. It probably claimed to divine five hundred years into the past and future; fortune tellers, after all, feared understating their abilities.

Xu Fengnian walked over and tapped the stall with his finger. The fortune teller startled awake, quickly wiped his saliva with his sleeve, sat up straight, and tried his best to project an air of esteemed wisdom. He spoke volubly, "This Immortal understands Yin and Yang, the Five Elements, Ziwei Doushu, physiognomy, palmistry, Qimen Dunjia, and geomancy. Whether it's residences for the living or the dead, my predictions are incredibly accurate. May I ask what the young master wishes this Immortal to divine?"

Xu Fengnian, having partnered with Old Huang and Wen Hua, was quite an old hand at scamming people in this line of work. He smiled and said, "Why don't you try to calculate first what I'm here to ask about?"

The old Daoist dared not make up nonsense for a moment. He stood up, made to offer the long bench to this customer who had finally taken the bait, and then plopped down into the hollow of the old willow tree. He took the opportunity to glance out of the corner of his eye at the ordinary-looking young man. Once settled, he extended two fingers, twirled his goatee, and pondered silently.

Xu Fengnian suppressed his smile and was not in a hurry to speak. Indeed, this profession, which relied heavily on acting, was nothing more than four interlocking stages: wild guesses, extracting information, resolving misfortune, and demanding money. If done without error, one could usually earn copper coins. Back then, it was harder for him as a diviner; after all, he was too young and inexperienced, and even with a borrowed Daoist robe, it was difficult to fool people.

The old Daoist's eyes darted about. He said softly, "Young master, you're here to inquire about your official career."

Xu Fengnian shook his head.

The old man said, "Oh," then, "To divine your fortune in wealth."

Xu Fengnian still shook his head.

The old man finally couldn't sit still. If he couldn't guess correctly again, wouldn't the fat meat fly out of his mouth? Xu Fengnian didn't continue to make things difficult for this fortune teller, whose life was evidently quite frugal. He smiled and said, "Actually, old Immortal, you've guessed correctly. I'm here to inquire both whether my official career will be smooth and whether my financial fortune will be prosperous."

The old man looked relieved and nodded gently, saying, "This Immortal has always been infallible in his predictions."

With a not-so-awkward start, what followed was a torrent of flowery nonsense. Xu Fengnian didn't expose him, occasionally nodding in agreement and chiming in a few times. The old Daoist's spittle flew as he spoke with vigor. Xu Fengnian had exchanged some silver pieces at the inn. After hearing good words about a bright future that might await him, he pulled out a piece of silver, ready to conclude their business and return. The old Daoist, who hadn't touched silver for half a year, instantly brightened. As the silver piece was placed on the table, he snatched it up with lightning speed and tucked it into his sleeve. Then, twirling his beard, he smiled and said, "Young master, at what hour were you born? This Immortal can perform another divination for you, this one's free."

Xu Fengnian had already risen from the long bench. He sat back down and softly chuckled, "Never mind mine for now. Can you tell me my father's fortune? He was born in the Shenshi hour."

The old Daoist pretended to ponder, then asked for the specific minute within the hundred-ke (a traditional time unit) of the day before slowly saying, "This is not a very good hour. It's a destiny of leaving home at a young age, and siblings also dying young. If his fate were a bit thinner, husband and wife might not grow old together. However, a wife's passing would lead to the man's fortune gradually improving in old age."

The old Daoist saw the stunned expression on the generous young master's face and thought he had said something wrong. He was about to change his words, fearing the silver in his sleeve would be demanded back. Unexpectedly, the young man then asked about the fate and fortune of his elder and second sisters. Knowing the specific hours, the old Daoist acted mysterious, calculating repeatedly with his fingers. He stiffly said a few words, not daring to say much, adhering to the principle of less said, less wrong. He cautiously glanced at the young master, whose lips trembled. He forced a smile and stated his own birth hour. The old Daoist quietly wiped away sweat and said, pretending to be calm, "Excellent, excellent. Young master, you have an elegant and handsome appearance, intelligent and clever from a young age, and a life full of blessings. Your parents' blessings have all been passed to you. Your early life may have some struggles, and your middle age will be laborious, but your old age will be excellent. Therefore, young master, you need not worry much."

The elderly fortune teller hesitated for a moment, then said, "Young master, if I may offer a word of unsolicited advice, your family members have, more or less, lost some good fortune because of you."

He then quickly added, "However, your family members' good fortune was not bad to begin with, so they wouldn't mind a small amount."

Under the old willow, the young master and the old fortune teller looked at each other.

Susu, who happened to be wandering by, was thinking, "There's actually still an idiot getting his fortune told by this old swindler." Then he saw the guy, whose head must have been kicked by a donkey, scatter a handful of silver pieces. What happened next made him feel even more bewildered.

Susu turned around, intending to go back to his own shop to get scolded, and rolled his eyes, muttering, "This guy is really sick!"

A young man from another place sat under a withered old tree. He did not cry out loud, he simply shed tears.