I ended up taking the money. It felt right—Xiong Jiu had approached me as a true seeker. This way, I might avoid the fallout of meddling with fate.
Breakfast passed without mention of fortunes. Afterward, Xiong Jiu left first. Ning Haoyu and I tidied up before heading to the antique furniture shop where he worked.
As Ning Haoyu explained, his uncle owned several such shops in the city. Ours was an independent storefront on Guangji Street, in the southwest part of town.
Guangji Street was a faux-historic district. Most shops dealt in jade or antiques. Street vendors lined the sidewalks too.
Ning Haoyu warned me: "Most of those stalls sell fakes. Some aren't even worth calling fakes."
When I asked about the real shops, he shook his head. "Uncle says not everything in them is genuine either. Fakes are everywhere."
We took a taxi but had to walk the last stretch—no vehicles allowed on the pedestrian street. As we strolled and chatted, a two-story shop near the center caught my eye.
It was the street's grandest store. A plaque above the door read: Violet Qiong Pavilion.
Ning Haoyu pointed. "Biggest antique shop here. Most authentic pieces too. First floor: jade. Second: antiques. Stuff there costs tens of thousands."
I peered inside. Polished wood floors gleamed. Staff were women in thigh-high qipaos—slits nearly reaching their waists. The sight sparked fantasies.
If only my future wife had a figure like that…
We lingered outside, chuckling foolishly before moving on. This wasn't our world.
Xiong Jiu had money, but not this kind. His shop stood three doors down from Violet Qiong Pavilion—half its size but still above average for the street.
Ten Thousand Woods Pavilion. Staff: five. Two women downstairs handled furniture sales. Upstairs, the accountant—Mr. Jiang, fifties, a veteran in the trade. Ning Haoyu said he'd been with Xiong Jiu nearly a decade, respected as an expert even by the boss.
After introductions, Ning Haoyu outlined our roles. With some antique knowledge, he'd assist Mr. Jiang upstairs—really, Xiong Jiu's way of training him.
I'd stay downstairs, learning from the two women. Price tags covered the basics. My job: memorize discount limits and sales pitches.
By midday, I'd settled in.
The two women were in their early twenties—a couple years older than me. The prettier one, long hair, was Jin Xiaoying. I called her Sister Ying.
The other had short hair, a round face, and soft cheeks: Zuo Fei. "Sister Fei" worked, or sometimes "Sister Chubby"—she didn't mind, laughing it off.
Business was slow that morning. A few browsers asked prices but left without buying. Easy work.
Near lunchtime, Xiong Jiu strode in, beaming. Sister Ying, Sister Fei, and I were mid-laugh.
The women snapped straight. "Boss!" Their nervousness suggested strict management.
I straightened too. "Uncle Xiong!"
His smile widened at me. Clapping my shoulder, he said, "Li Chu Yi! You nailed it! Scattering wealth worked—the deal's done!" He turned to the room. "Get Xiaoyu and Old Jiang! Lunch is on me!"
Sister Ying and Sister Fei exchanged confused glances.
Ning Haoyu and Mr. Jiang descended at the commotion. Riding high, Xiong Jiu glanced at the women. "Oh, and—both of you get a five-hundred-yuan raise starting this month."
They thanked him profusely. Sister Ying shot me a look heavy with implication—she guessed my role in their windfall.
We didn't linger. Xiong Jiu herded us to an upscale restaurant nearby. Over food, he recounted my reading to Mr. Jiang, who praised me as a "young talent."
Somehow, talk turned to my haunted home. I could only sigh. Xiong Jiu again recommended "Master Wang."
"Already contacted him," I admitted. "He's out of town. Back tomorrow. Then we head to my county town. Can't abandon home, right?"
Xiong Jiu asked about my plans post-ghost. "Open a fortune-telling shop," I said. "It's all I know."
"Smart," he nodded. "With your skills, you'll go far."
"Hope so." My last attempt had stalled—zero paying customers. Survival wasn't guaranteed.
Mr. Jiang asked for his own reading. At fifty, his fate lines were steady. No dramatic rises ahead, but no falls either. His health and longevity signs were strong—no disease, no disaster. A long life awaited.
I smiled. "Smooth sailing, Mr. Jiang. No storms, no illness. Just years."
Fortune-telling rule: When no doom looms, spotlight the good. Mr. Jiang's ordinary luck needed dressing up. Longevity always pleased.
It worked. He chuckled. "I'll take that."
Ning Haoyu demanded his turn. I studied him. Still the "meeting mentors" aura. Mr. Jiang was that mentor now.
"Stick close to Mr. Jiang," I said. "Prosperity follows."
Ning Haoyu rolled his eyes—too vague for him. Mr. Jiang beamed. My words had flattered him too.
After lunch, Xiong Jiu gave us the afternoon off. Ning Haoyu and I wandered aimlessly before circling back to the shop. Passing Violet Qiong Pavilion, we spotted Xiong Jiu and his wife inside, examining jade. A young man in an impeccably tailored Zhongshan suit hovered nearby, recommending pieces.
Ning Haoyu called out, pulling me in. Xiong Jiu grinned. "Done exploring?"
He gestured to the suited man. "Zhou Rui, this is Li Chu Yi—the young master fortune teller I mentioned. Since your father's luck's been poor…"
Zhou Rui glanced at me. "Appreciate the thought, Mr. Xiong."
I studied him. Clear complexion, refined features—a privileged face. His "servant palace" energy pulsed strongly here, marking him as owner, heir, or major stakeholder.
But his Tai Cang phase gate (migration palace) showed restless energy. Upheaval coming—a move, perhaps home or business. Likely the latter: the energy threads linked tightly to this shop.
No deeper insights surfaced. His expression revealed little.
He eyed me too—my age, my clothes probably screamed "amateur." He didn't speak to me.
Xiong Jiu didn't linger. He bought his wife a jade bracelet (price tag: five figures) before we left.
Outside, Xiong Jiu sighed. "If only I'd had the money back then to rent that Violet Qiong Pavilion spot. Now I do, but it's taken."
Instinctively, I said, "They might relocate soon, Uncle. Ask discreetly. If they move, you could grab it."
He stared, astonished. "How do you know? I've heard nothing."
I nodded toward the receding shop. "It's written all over Zhou Rui's face."