Chapter Thirteen: Wandering the Four Seas, Home Nowhere to Be Found

It had been over four months since they left Li Family Village. Ever since their departure, Little Peach Blossom—no, now the illustrious Immortal Yunhua—had been sullen and morose, scarcely exchanging a word with Liachen. She was evidently still angry, much to Liachen’s distress and guilt. Trying to make amends, he’d indulged her every whim along their meandering journey through mountains and streams, until at last they arrived at the prefectural seat of Anlu in Hubei.

Anlu, nestled in Hubei, had long been a bastion of Daoism, with the local folk devout in their faith. Temples rose thick as trees throughout the land, so it was little wonder that a later emperor, Jiajing, would become a ruler devoted to cultivation and the Dao. Liachen had made his way to Anlu with a particular purpose: to leave a mark, a few years before the birth of that legendary sovereign, the Ming Emperor Shizong, known to history as the Jiajing Emperor.

Among the ranks of wandering fortune-tellers, there were myriad schemes—the front tent, the back tent, the hanging pipe, the painted dot, and the fixed door, as the saying went. Yet Liachen would have nothing to do with such trickery. His aim today was simply to, as the people of the rivers and lakes would say, “set up the front tent”—to make a deep impression on the future emperor’s parents. Only then could he hope for a chance to appear before Jiajing in years to come. After all, to fulfill his master’s dying wish was not a feat one could accomplish alone, not even for an immortal. For a sect to flourish, even to survive, it needed the patronage of authority. In antiquity, Shaolin and Dragon Tiger Mountain; in the present, Wudang—none could have endured for centuries without imperial support.

Yunhua, not yet fully initiated nor possessing the necessary monastic credentials, could not simply take shelter in a temple and live off the offerings. Liachen had no choice but to settle her in an inn, sternly instructing her not to wander, warning her that the streets swarmed with swindlers preying on children. After all his muttered cautions, Yunhua answered with a single roll of her eyes—a sign that the girl was growing ever more unruly. If this continued, where was the dignity of the master to be found? Before he left, Yunhua paused, then drew out a sheet of white paper and folded it into a paper crane. “If I let the crane fly out, I’ll know when you come back,” she said, and with that, she stepped out, heading straight for the Prince of Xing’s residence.

It was hardly possible to walk into a prince’s mansion uninvited. Burst in by force? That was out of the question—he was not here to make enemies. Liachen, therefore, found a spot on a street not far from the mansion, rented a table and chairs from a tavernkeeper for a handful of coins, and set up a fortune-telling stall, an occupation he had not practiced in some time.

The banner reading “Iron Mouth Divination—Payment According to Face” drew the curious eyes of the city’s townsfolk, who were braver and more eager to try their luck than country folk. Before long, his first client appeared—a young lordling, richly clad, his face bearing the arrogance of idle youth.

As soon as the young man sat down, Liachen spoke: “Is your surname Zheng? Shall I call you Young Master Zheng?”

Young Master Zheng started, surprised. Had they met before? Was he so famous as all that?

“What you seek is marriage,” Liachen continued, “but your Red Luan star has yet to move. Best wait a while. Perhaps you should tidy your chambers first—make sure the powder boxes are swept clean before inviting a beauty in.” His words, delivered without warning, left Young Master Zheng utterly crestfallen. Dejected, he could not help but ask, “Is that really the reason she refuses me?” He gazed at Liachen as if hoping for a miracle.

“Falling petals have meaning, yet the flowing water is indifferent. Let it go, young master. Destiny arranges all things; what will be, will be,” Liachen advised.

“Oh,” Zheng replied without much conviction, mulling things over. After a moment, he drew out a silver ingot from his purse, worth a solid five taels, and placed it on the table before walking away without another word. Liachen did not stand on ceremony and pocketed the silver, waiting for his next client.

The onlookers had no trouble recognizing a genuine prediction when they saw one, and their interest grew. Another young gentleman took a seat, waiting silently to see if Liachen could guess his troubles.

“Judging by your complexion, you wake most nights from nightmares, drenched in sweat, your limbs weak—am I right?” Liachen inquired.

“Ah! How did you know?” the young man exclaimed, thoroughly impressed. “Is there something wrong with me?”

“Not at all,” Liachen replied, waving his hand. He drew a piece of paper from under the table, wrote a few lines, and handed it over. “Young Master Liu, with my compliments,” he said with a smile.

Young Master Liu blushed fiercely upon reading the note, hastily produced a handful of broken silver—no less than the first client, perhaps more—and fled in embarrassment.

In truth, when it comes to medicine and divination, one need never seek customers; when efficacy is proven, clients will come bearing money of their own accord. So it was for Liachen now.

“Congratulations, your father’s promotion is at hand.”

“Oh, and my mother and child—will they be safe? Thank you, thank you.”

“I see a shadow on your brow—there’s trouble ahead, you’ll suffer some pain.”

“Can you help me avoid it?”

“Kneel in repentance when you return home, and the pain will be greatly lessened. To escape it entirely is another matter.”

“The tree wishes to be still, but the wind will not cease. Go home and spend more time with your mother. No payment is needed for this reading.”

“Go home early and stay in for half a month—remember that above all.”

One after another, the young lords departed, some embarrassed, some elated. Having accumulated a tidy pile of silver, Liachen could see why so many so-called masters catered exclusively to the wealthy—the rewards were indeed generous.

“I’ll go next!” “Me! Me!” The clamor for his services grew, the crowd surging forward; in times like these, a man with true skill was a rare find.

By the end of the afternoon, Liachen’s voice was hoarse, and the silver so abundant it could not all fit in his sleeves—he had to borrow a sack from the tavernkeeper in exchange for a free reading to carry it all away.

Glancing at the sky, Liachen sensed that the moment he had been waiting for was at hand. He began to pack up his stall, announcing, “The day grows late. That’s all for now—thank you for your patronage.”

He had not gone more than a few steps when a carriage pulled up beside him.

“Please, Daoist Master, wait a moment. My lord wishes to invite you to his residence for a reading, and is willing to reward you handsomely.”