Chapter 3:

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

Lin Qiao nodded, opened the door, and climbed in. After Du Xinling turned the car around and began driving away, Lin Qiao waited until they were on the main road before asking, “Mr. Du, may I ask where we’re headed?”

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

Lin Qiao nodded again. “I figured we were going to eat, but I wanted to know where specifically.”

He didn’t hesitate to answer, “To Shi Heng’s house.”

Lin Qiao was slightly surprised. She hadn’t expected the seemingly unapproachable master to host guests at his home. Still, she was curious about where he lived. The place she had stayed at the previous night had been meticulously decorated and arranged. If she hadn’t had urgent matters to attend to back home, she would have gladly stayed a few more days. Thus, she was quite eager to see what the home of Feng Shui master Shen Qingzhou would look like.

As the saying goes, “A person strives for a breath of air, and a Buddha for a stick of incense.” Ancient beliefs held that one’s residence must not lack qi, for life itself depends on it. Du Xinling drove Lin Qiao toward the Shaizu Mountain—the ancestral hill of Ganzhou’s dragon vein. Along the way, he considerately rolled down the windows so Lin Qiao could fully enjoy the scenery.

The term “Shaizu Mountain” is a Feng Shui concept referring to the hill closest to a burial site. There is a saying in Feng Shui: “The hill nearest the grave is called the Shaizu Mountain; its auspiciousness or ominousness is of utmost importance. If it spreads its wings like a bird in flight, it brings good fortune; if low and small, it weakens the power.” The Shaizu Mountain of Ganzhou’s dragon vein is none other than Yang Xianling Peak, the most important Feng Shui site of the revered master Yang Yunsong, who practiced Feng Shui in Ganzhou for 26 years and is celebrated worldwide in metaphysical circles.

Shen Qingzhou’s home was located here, and had been since the day he was born.

As the road grew increasingly remote, Lin Qiao, initially calm, gradually became more curious. Eventually, she couldn’t help asking, “Mr. Du, doesn’t Master Shen find it inconvenient living so far from the city?”

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

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

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

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

The car turned off the main road, bypassed a grove of trees, and entered a narrow path. After driving about 500 meters down the path, they turned into a side road, and a three-story house with a distinct Republican-era style came into view. Lin Qiao knew they had arrived.

Sure enough, Du Xinling 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 still found it quite unexpected.

“Something wrong?” Du Xinling noticed her surprise. After stepping out of the car, he led her toward the entrance and asked.

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

Du Xinling raised a corner of his lips. “What did you imagine it would look like?”

Lin Qiao actually paused to think. Before stepping inside, she replied seriously, “I thought a hermit-like master would prefer to live in an ancient-style place. The scenery along the way gave me that impression too. Seeing this Western-style villa so suddenly really surprised me.”

Du Xinling chuckled lightly and gestured for her to go in first. Lin Qiao hurried inside, wide-eyed, scanning the interior.

Inside, the villa matched the exterior style—rich with Republican-era charm. Against the inner wall stood a bookshelf shaped like a Bagua (Eight Trigrams), filled with thick books and professional tools. Lin Qiao only recognized the compass.

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

After giving instructions, Du Xinling went upstairs. Lin Qiao idled around the first floor and accidentally noticed a corner in the southern part of the house. It was a blind spot from the entrance, where there was a small pond and beside it, a rattan chair. Sitting on it, facing slightly sideways to her, was a familiar figure.

Lin Qiao stepped forward for a better look. The man had neat black short hair, fair skin, a sharp jawline, a tall nose, thin lips, and a straight back, clearly indicating he was tall.

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

As if sensing someone watching, he slowly turned his head. His upturned eyes were calm yet strikingly beautiful, his almond-shaped eyes long and expressive. He set aside the bowl of fish food and raised his hand slightly, signaling her to come closer. On his pale, slender wrist were two jade bracelets of excellent quality intertwined together. Later, Lin Qiao would learn these were called the Yin Yang Rings, symbolizing the eternal cycle of Yin and Yang.

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.

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 directly, and walked toward her, speaking briefly and distantly, “You’re here.”

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

Shen Qingzhou walked past her toward 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, “Have some tea.”

Lin Qiao glanced toward the staircase upstairs, thinking that Du Xinling, who had gone looking for Shen, would probably come down soon after failing to find him. She obediently walked to the sofa and sat down, taking a small sip from the cup.

The tea was of excellent quality, and the teacup was a rare Ru Kiln porcelain—renowned as the finest of the Five Great Kilns of ancient China. Its glaze shimmered like green waves across a thousand peaks, resembling jade yet surpassing it.

Everything was so meticulously arranged. This fraud was seriously loaded, Lin Qiao mused with a sigh.

As expected, just after Lin Qiao sat down and sipped a few mouthfuls of tea, Du Xinling came downstairs carrying Xiao Ning, who had not been found upstairs.

Upon seeing the female figure on the sofa, 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 merely gazed silently at Xiao Ning’s back, his dark eyes filled with contemplation and scrutiny.

What a strange family—both adults and child were odd. The boy acted like she was his mother. Was he like this with every woman?

Lin Qiao was already puzzled when Du Xinling’s words to Shen Qingzhou deepened her confusion.

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

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

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

The dining room was on the second floor, maintaining the house’s consistent style—modern with a touch of Republican-era charm.

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

The food was delicious, though Lin Qiao never saw who prepared it. She hadn’t seen any woman in the house the entire time, which led her to suspect that perhaps, as she had guessed, Shen Qingzhou had been married before but was now divorced.

Lost in thought, she didn’t speak first. Neither did Du Xinling or Shen Qingzhou, both adhering to the old saying: “Don’t speak while eating, don’t talk while lying down.” Thus, the meal was unusually quiet.

Even after Du Xinling and Lin Qiao left, Shen Qingzhou didn’t say anything else to her besides a simple “Goodbye,” maintaining his usual quiet and aloof demeanor.

Before getting into the car, Lin Qiao couldn’t help glancing back at the southern side of the first floor. The glass there was slightly reflective, obscuring what was inside, yet she inexplicably felt someone watching her.

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

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

They crossed half of Qiancheng in silence, 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 in advance, Miss Lin.”

Lin Qiao nodded in agreement, said goodbye to Du Xinling, and returned to her apartment. She took out her phone, opened the message interface, and scrolled to Shen Qingzhou’s number, wanting to send something, but after hesitating for a while, she couldn’t figure out why she wanted to send anything at all. With a sigh, she put the phone back into her pocket.

Soon after, her phone rang. For some reason, she thought it might be a call from Shen Qingzhou, but the caller ID showed “Fang Zheng”—her childhood friend Wang Jiaqi’s husband, the wealthy businessman who had once invited Shen Qingzhou.

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

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

After all, he had helped her before, and considering her relationship with Wang Jiaqi, Lin Qiao thought for a moment and agreed, “Alright, then I won’t be formal. Fang Zheng, did you need something?”

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

Lin Qiao answered, “Yes. We’re flying back to Beijing tomorrow. Flight’s at ten in the morning, and we’ll be home by noon.”

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

“Mm. It took some effort, but as they say, heaven rewards persistence.”

“…Alright, I see. Then I’ll wait for your return. Talk later.”

After saying goodbye, Lin Qiao hung up, feeling something odd about Fang Zheng’s tone. He seemed surprised that she had managed to convince Shen Qingzhou, almost as if he wasn’t particularly happy about it. Was it just her imagination?

Well, regardless, she was going home tomorrow. After being away for so long, she had missed home for quite some time.

She had a good night’s sleep and woke up early the next day. She had already packed the night before, and when Du Xinling arrived to pick her up, she was waiting by the door, sitting on her large suitcase playing on her phone.

Du Xinling got out to help put her luggage in the trunk. Lin Qiao thanked him and directly went to the back seat. Only after entering the car did she realize that Shen Qingzhou was already inside, also sitting in the back.

He wore a black shirt, his tall, straight legs covered in black trousers, and his slender fingers held a thick book. The dark cover bore two golden block characters—Zhou Yi (The Book of Changes).