Chapter 3:

Du Xinling drove a silver Land Rover, with the passenger door facing the entrance. As soon as Lin Qiao stepped out, he rolled down the window, smiled at her, and said, “Get in.”

Lin Qiao nodded, opened the door, and got in. Du Xinling turned the car and drove away. Once they were on the main road, Lin Qiao asked, “Mr. Du, may I ask where we’re going?”

“To have dinner. Afterward, I’ll send Miss Lin back.”

Lin Qiao nodded again. “I know we’re going to eat, but I was wondering where exactly we’re dining.”

He didn’t hesitate to reply, “At Shiheng’s house.”

Lin Qiao was slightly surprised. She hadn’t expected the seemingly aloof master to host guests at home. Still, she was curious about where he lived. The place she had stayed the previous night had been meticulously decorated and arranged. If it weren’t for urgent matters waiting for her back home, she would have gladly stayed a few more days. Thus, she was eager to see what the home of the feng shui master Shen Qingzhou would be like.

Du Xinling was driving a silver Range Rover. The passenger door faced the entrance, and as Lin Qiao stepped out, he rolled down the window, smiled at her, and said, “Get in.”

Lin Qiao nodded, opened the door, and got in. Du Xinling drove off, turning a corner. Only after they were on the main road did Lin Qiao speak up: “Mr. Du, may I ask where we’re going?”

Du Xinling replied, “To have a meal. Afterward, I’ll bring you back, Miss Lin.”

Lin Qiao nodded slightly. “I know we’re going to eat, but I meant where exactly are we going?”

Without hesitation, he answered frankly, “To Shiheng’s place.”

Lin Qiao was a bit surprised. She hadn’t expected that the seemingly aloof master would entertain guests at his home. Still, she was curious about where he lived. The place she had stayed last night was exquisitely decorated, with every piece of furniture carefully arranged. If she didn’t have matters waiting for her back home, she would have been happy to stay a few more days. So, she was eager to see what the home of a feng shui master like Shen Qingzhou would look like.

As the saying goes, people strive for dignity, just as Buddhas compete for incense. The ancients believed that a person’s long-term residence must not lack qi, for where there is qi, there is life. Du Xinling drove Lin Qiao all the way to the Shaozu Mountain of Ganzhou’s dragon vein. Along the way, he thoughtfully rolled down the window, allowing Lin Qiao to take in the breathtaking views.

The term “Shaozu Mountain” is a feng shui concept referring to the “mountain near the acupuncture point.” There’s a saying: “The mountain near the point is called Shaozu Mountain; its auspiciousness or inauspiciousness is most critical. If it opens its eyes and spreads its wings, it is auspicious; if it is low, small, and isolated, its power is meager.” The so-called Shaozu Mountain of Ganzhou’s dragon vein refers to Yangxian Ridge, renowned in the feng shui and metaphysics circles at home and abroad. It was the primary site of feng shui activities for the feng shui master Yang Yunsong during his 26 years in Ganzhou.

Shen Qingzhou’s residence was here, and he had lived there since birth without ever moving.

The road grew increasingly remote. At first, Lin Qiao remained calm, but as time passed, her curiosity grew. Finally, she couldn’t resist asking, “Mr. Du, doesn’t Master Shen find it inconvenient to live in such a place, traveling to and from the city every day?”

Du Xinling laughed. “He rarely goes out. If he needs anything, I usually deliver it to him.”

“What about the child? Xiao Ning is so young; he must go to school, right?”

“Xiao Ning stays at my place during the school week and comes back to stay with him on weekends.”

“…” So the master was a homebody. Lin Qiao nodded slightly, taking mental notes.

The car turned onto a main road, circled a grove of trees, and entered a narrow path. After driving about five hundred meters, it turned into a fork, and a house with a distinct Republican-era style came into view. Lin Qiao knew they had arrived.

Sure enough, Du Xinling soon said, “This is it.”

Lin Qiao leaned against the window, studying the three-story blue-brick and red-tile Western-style house. It looked historic yet well-preserved, but she couldn’t help feeling surprised.

“Is something wrong?” Du Xinling noticed her puzzlement. After getting out of the car, he led her inside while asking.

Lin Qiao scratched her head. “Well, it’s nothing, really. It’s just not what I imagined.”

Du Xinling raised an eyebrow. “What did you imagine?”

Lin Qiao actually gave it some serious thought before stepping inside. “I thought reclusive masters preferred living in ancient-style places. The scenery along the way reinforced that impression, so seeing this Western-style house was quite a surprise.”

Du Xinling chuckled softly and gestured for her to enter first. Lin Qiao hurried inside, her eyes wide as she took in the interior.

The inside of the house matched its exterior, exuding a strong Republican-era atmosphere. Against the inner wall was a bagua-shaped wall-mounted bookshelf filled with thick books and professional tools. The only thing Lin Qiao recognized was the luopan compass.

“Shiheng is probably in his study. I’ll go find him. Please wait here, Miss Lin.”

After instructing Lin Qiao, Du Xinling headed upstairs. With nothing to do, Lin Qiao wandered around the first floor. Her gaze accidentally fell on the southern corner—a blind spot from the entrance—where there was a small pond with a wicker chair beside it. Someone sat sideways in the chair, facing away from her, but the figure looked familiar.

Lin Qiao took a few steps closer for a better look. The person had neat black short hair, fair skin, delicate facial features, a straight nose, thin lips, and an upright posture, suggesting a tall stature.

He wore a white long gown, resembling a Taoist robe, which made his already slender figure appear even more delicate.

Sensing someone’s gaze, he slowly turned around. His eyes, upturned at the corners, were calm and strikingly beautiful—narrow, long, and expressive Phoenix eyes. He set aside the bowl of fish food he was holding and gestured for her to approach. On his fair, slender wrist were two intertwined high-quality jade bracelets. Later, Lin Qiao learned they were called yin-yang rings, symbolizing the cyclical nature of life.

The person sitting by the window feeding the fish, bathed in a soft glow of sunlight, was none other than the master of the house, Shen Qingzhou.

Having seen him in a suit but never in traditional attire, Lin Qiao was momentarily dazed. Shen Qingzhou didn’t seem to mind. He stood up and walked toward her, aloof yet polite. “You’re here.”

Lin Qiao composed herself and nodded. “Yes, I just arrived. Sorry to disturb you, Master Shen.”

Shen Qingzhou walked past her to the sofa, picked up a celadon teapot, and poured tea into two matching cups. He kept one for himself and placed the other in front of a single sofa nearby. Sitting down with his back to her, he said, “Have some tea.”

Lin Qiao glanced toward the staircase, thinking that Du Xinling would likely come down soon after failing to find anyone upstairs. She obediently walked to the sofa, sat down, and took a small sip from the teacup.

The tea was expertly brewed, and the teacup was a renowned piece from the Ru Kiln, the foremost of the Five Great Kilns. The glaze color resembled emerald waves rolling across countless peaks—like jade yet surpassing jade.

So refined, so exquisite. This charlatan is really fucking rich, Lin Qiao thought with a sigh.

As expected, she had only taken a few sips of tea with Shen Qingzhou when Du Xinling came downstairs carrying Xiao Ning. The moment Xiao Ning spotted the female figure on the sofa, he struggled out of Du Xinling’s arms and ran toward her.

Lin Qiao quickly set down her teacup and caught him, feeling slightly awkward as she glanced at Shen Qingzhou. Shen Qingzhou merely watched Xiao Ning’s back quietly, his dark eyes thoughtful and scrutinizing.

What a strange family. Not only were the adults odd, but the child was too, treating her as if she were his mother. Did he act this way with every woman?

Lin Qiao was already puzzled, but her confusion deepened when Du Xinling said to Shen Qingzhou, “See, the child still needs a mother.”

Needs a mother? That made it sound as though Xiao Ning didn’t have one.

Shen Qingzhou curled his lips into a faint smile and said softly, “Alright, since everyone is here, let’s go to the dining room.”

The so-called dining room was on the second floor. The entire house’s decor was consistent, with the dining room also reflecting a modernized Republican-era style.

Lin Qiao sat in the first seat to the left of the head of the table, while Du Xinling sat in the first seat to the right, directly opposite her. Shen Qingzhou naturally took the head of the table, with Xiao Ning sitting on a small chair beside him.

The food was delicious, though it was unclear who had prepared it. Lin Qiao didn’t see any women in the house throughout the meal. Could it be, as she had guessed, that Shen Qingzhou had been married but was now divorced?

Preoccupied with her thoughts, Lin Qiao didn’t initiate conversation. Du Xinling and Shen Qingzhou both adhered to the ancient principle of not speaking during meals, so the dinner proceeded in silence.

Even when Du Xinling took Lin Qiao to leave, Shen Qingzhou didn’t say much to her beyond a simple “goodbye”—aloof and detached, much like the impression he gave.

Before getting into the car, Lin Qiao couldn’t help but glance back at the southern side of the first floor. The glass there was slightly reflective, making it impossible to see inside, yet she inexplicably felt as though someone was watching her.

“Miss Lin?” Du Xinling, noticing her delay, rolled down the window and called out curiously.

Lin Qiao snapped out of her daze, stopped hesitating, got into the car, and left with Du Xinling.

They drove in silence across most of Qiancheng before arriving at Lin Qiao’s current residence.

Before she got out, Du Xinling told her, “The flight is at ten tomorrow morning. I’ll pick you up around eight. Please be ready, Miss Lin.”

Lin Qiao agreed, bid Du Xinling farewell, and went inside. Once in her room, she picked up her phone, opened the messages app, and found Shen Qingzhou’s number. She wanted to send him something but hesitated, unsure why she felt the urge. Frustrated, she stuffed the phone back into her pocket.

A moment later, her phone rang. For some reason, she thought it might be Shen Qingzhou calling, but the screen displayed the name Fang Zheng—the husband of her childhood friend Wang Jiaqi, and the wealthy businessman who had once engaged Shen Qingzhou’s services.

Answering the call, Lin Qiao greeted him politely, “Hello, Mr. Fang.”

It was quiet on Fang Zheng’s end. He seemed somewhat bothered by her formality. “We’re not strangers. You and Jiaqi are so close; let me call you Qiaoqiao like she does. Just call me by my name. Adding ‘Mr.’ feels too distant.”

Considering he had helped her and given her connection with Wang Jiaqi, Lin Qiao thought it over and agreed. “Then I won’t stand on ceremony. What is it, Fang Zheng?”

Fang Zheng replied, “Nothing much. I just wanted to ask if you found Master Shen.”

Lin Qiao said, “Yes, we’re returning to Beijing together tomorrow. Our flight is at ten in the morning, so we’ll be home by noon.”

Fang Zheng paused, sounding surprised. “He agreed?”

“Yes, though it took some effort. But perseverance pays off.”

“…Alright, I see. I’ll talk to you when you get back. Goodbye.”

After hanging up, Lin Qiao couldn’t shake the feeling that Fang Zheng’s tone had been strange. He seemed surprised that she had managed to engage Shen Qingzhou and almost displeased. Was it her imagination?

Well, regardless, she could go home tomorrow. After being away for so long, she missed home dearly.

She slept soundly that night and woke up early the next morning. She had packed her luggage the previous evening, so when Du Xinling came to pick her up, she was already waiting by the door, sitting on her large suitcase and playing on her phone.

Du Xinling got out of the car to help her load the luggage into the trunk. Lin Qiao thanked him and got into the back seat. Only then did she notice that Shen Qingzhou was also in the car, seated in the back as well.

He wore a black shirt, his long, straight legs encased in black suit pants. His distinct, bony fingers held a thick book with dark covers and two gilded characters in bold font: Zhou Yi.

The term “Shaozu Mountain” comes from feng shui terminology, referring to the “mountain closest to the feng shui site.” There’s a saying: “The mountain nearest the site is called the Shaozu Mountain; its auspiciousness or ominousness is of utmost importance. If it spreads its wings like a bird, it brings good fortune; if it is low and isolated, its power is weak.” The Shaozu Mountain of Ganzhou’s dragon vein refers specifically to Yang Xianling, a mountain renowned in the feng shui and metaphysics circles. It was the primary location for the feng shui master Yang Yunsong’s practice during his 26 years in Ganzhou.

Shen Qingzhou’s residence was located here, unchanged since his birth.

The road grew increasingly remote. Lin Qiao had initially remained calm, but as time passed, curiosity overtook her. Finally, she couldn’t help but ask, “Mr. Du, doesn’t Master Shen find it inconvenient living so far from the city?”

Du Xinling smiled. “He rarely goes out. I usually bring him whatever he needs.”

“What about the child? Xiao Ning is so young; he must go to school.”

“Xiao Ning stays at my house during school days and comes back with me on weekends.”

“…” So the master was a homebody after all. Lin Qiao nodded slightly, enlightened.

The car turned off the main road, bypassed a grove, and entered a narrow path. After driving about five hundred meters along the path, it turned into a fork, revealing a three-story house with a distinct Republican-era style. Lin Qiao knew they had arrived.

Sure enough, Du Xinling soon said, “Here we are.”

Lin Qiao leaned against the window, staring at the three-story brick house with red tiles. It looked historic yet dignified, but she found it quite unexpected.

“Something wrong?” Du Xinling noticed her confusion. As he led her inside, he asked.

Lin Qiao scratched her head. “Not really, it’s just different from what I imagined.”

Du Xinling raised an eyebrow. “What did you imagine it would look like?”

Lin Qiao thought for a moment seriously before solemnly saying as she stepped through the door, “I thought a hermit master would prefer an ancient, rustic place. The scenery along the way gave me that impression. Suddenly seeing this Western-style villa surprised me.”

Du Xinling chuckled softly and gestured for her to enter first. Lin Qiao hurried inside, eyes wide as she took in the interior.

Inside, the house matched its exterior style—rich in Republican-era charm. On the inner wall stood a bagua-shaped wall-mounted bookshelf filled with thick books and professional tools. Lin Qiao only recognized the compass.

“Shiheng should be in the study. I’ll go find him. Miss Lin, please wait here for a moment.”

After giving instructions, Du Xinling headed upstairs. Lin Qiao idly wandered around the first floor and accidentally noticed a small pond in the south corner, a blind spot from the main entrance. Beside it sat a person on a rattan chair, facing sideways, very familiar.

Lin Qiao stepped closer. The man had neat black short hair, fair skin, a sharp jawline, a tall nose bridge, thin lips, and a straight back—clearly tall.

He wore a white robe, styled like Taoist attire, making his already slim frame appear even more delicate.

As if sensing her gaze, he slowly turned his head. His upturned eyes were calm, his almond-shaped eyes long and expressive. He placed the bowl of fish food aside and slightly lifted his hand, signaling her to come over. On his pale, slender wrist were two high-quality jade bracelets intertwined together. Later, Lin Qiao learned they were called the Yin-Yang Rings, symbolizing the eternal cycle of yin and yang.

This man, seated by the window feeding fish, bathed in a soft halo of sunlight, was none other than the homeowner himself—Shen Qingzhou.

She had seen him in a suit before, but never in a robe. Lin Qiao was momentarily stunned. Shen Qingzhou didn’t mind, stood up, and walked toward her, saying indifferently, “You’re here.”

Lin Qiao composed herself and nodded. “Yes, just arrived. Sorry to disturb you, Master Shen.”

Shen Qingzhou walked past her to the sofa, picked up a celadon teapot, and poured tea into two matching cups. He placed one cup beside himself and set the other in front of a single sofa nearby. Sitting with his back to her, he said, “Drink.”

Lin Qiao glanced toward the staircase upstairs, thinking that Du Xinling, who had gone to find Shen, would probably come down soon. She obediently walked to the sofa, sat down, and took a small sip of tea.

The tea was of excellent quality, and the teacup was a rare Ru Kiln masterpiece, one of the Five Great Kilns of ancient China. Its glaze color was like emerald peaks and green waves, resembling jade yet surpassing it.

So refined—too refined. This fraud must be damn rich, Lin Qiao lamented.

As expected, just after Lin Qiao sat down and took a few sips, Du Xinling came downstairs with Xiao Ning in his arms, unable to find Shen upstairs. Upon seeing Lin Qiao, Xiao Ning immediately struggled out of Du Xinling’s arms and ran toward her.

Lin Qiao quickly set down her teacup and caught him, slightly embarrassed as she glanced at Shen Qingzhou. He simply gazed at Xiao Ning’s back, his dark eyes filled with contemplation and scrutiny.

What a strange family—both the adults and the child were odd. Xiao Ning acted like she was his mother. Did he react this way to every woman?

Before Lin Qiao could fully process her thoughts, Du Xinling said something to Shen Qingzhou that puzzled her even more.

He said, “See, the child still needs a mother.”

A mother? It sounded like Xiao Ning didn’t have one.

Shen Qingzhou’s lips curled slightly, his voice soft. “Alright, since everyone is here, let’s go to the dining room.”

The dining room was on the second floor, maintaining the house’s consistent style—modern yet subtly influenced by the Republican era.

Lin Qiao sat at the first seat to the left of the host position, while Du Xinling sat at the first seat to the right, directly across from her. Naturally, Shen Qingzhou sat at the main seat, with Xiao Ning beside him on a small chair.

The food was delicious, though Lin Qiao never saw any woman in the house. Could it be, as she suspected, that Shen Qingzhou had been married and divorced?

Preoccupied with her thoughts, Lin Qiao didn’t speak much. Du Xinling and Shen Qingzhou, adhering to the ancient rule of “no talking while eating, no speaking while lying down,” also remained silent. Thus, the meal was unusually quiet.

Even after Du Xinling and Lin Qiao left, Shen Qingzhou didn’t say much else to her—just a quiet “Goodbye,” as calm and detached as ever.

Before getting into the car, Lin Qiao couldn’t help but glance back at the south side of the first floor. The glass there reflected light, obscuring whatever was inside, yet she felt an inexplicable sense of being watched.

“Miss Lin?” Seeing her hesitate to get in, Du Xinling opened the window and asked in confusion.

Lin Qiao snapped out of her thoughts, stopped dawdling, and got into the car with Du Xinling.

They drove in silence across most of the city, returning Lin Qiao to her current residence.

Before getting out, Du Xinling told her, “Your flight is at ten tomorrow morning. I’ll pick you up around eight. Please be ready, Miss Lin.”

Lin Qiao agreed, bid farewell to Du Xinling, and returned to her apartment. She took out her phone, opened the messages app, and scrolled to Shen Qingzhou’s number, wanting to send something, but hesitated, unsure why she even wanted to. Eventually, she sighed and put the phone back into her pocket.

Soon after, her phone rang. For some reason, she thought it might be Shen Qingzhou calling. But the caller ID read Fang Zheng—the husband of her childhood friend Wang Jiaqi, the wealthy businessman who had previously invited Shen Qingzhou.

She answered politely, “Hello, Mr. Fang.”

Fang Zheng’s tone was quiet. He seemed slightly bothered by her formality. “We’re not strangers. You and Jiaqi are so close. I’ll call you Qiaoqiao, and you can just call me Fang Zheng. Using ‘Mr.’ feels too formal.”

After all, he had helped her before, and with their mutual connection through Jiaqi, Lin Qiao agreed slightly. “Alright then. Fang Zheng, what’s up?”

Fang Zheng replied, “Nothing much. I just wanted to ask if you found Master Shen.”

Lin Qiao said, “I did. We’re flying back to Beijing tomorrow morning at ten. We’ll be home by noon.”

Fang Zheng paused, his tone slightly surprised. “He agreed?”

“Yeah. It took some effort, but as the saying goes, heaven rewards those who work hard.”

“…Okay, I see. Then I’ll wait for your return. Goodbye.”

After ending the call, Lin Qiao felt something odd about Fang Zheng’s tone. He seemed surprised that she had convinced Shen Qingzhou, almost as if he weren’t happy about it. Was it just her imagination?

Well, regardless, she would be going home tomorrow. After staying away for so long, she had missed home.

She had a good night’s sleep and woke up early the next morning. She had already packed her luggage the previous night. When Du Xinling came to pick her up, she was already waiting by the door, sitting on her large suitcase playing with her phone.

Du Xinling got out and placed her luggage in the trunk. After thanking him, Lin Qiao got into the back seat of the car. Only then did she realize Shen Qingzhou was already inside, also seated in the back.

He wore a black shirt, his tall, straight legs clad in black trousers. His slender fingers held a thick book, its dark cover embossed with two golden Chinese characters—Zhou Yi (The Book of Changes).