Secret Fortune-Telling Formulas Never Taught to Outsiders

The greedy will inevitably become poor. The superior man regards this as a great warning. Buddhism also places it first among the five precepts. Therefore, in practicing “A’Bao,” the fault lies not with the “xiang,” but with the “yi.”

—A’Bao Text

This passage comes from the jianghu secret text The A’Bao Text. It means that human nature is greedy, and greed is a great transgression. Therefore, greedy people will inevitably become poor, so practicing “A’Bao”—deceiving those greedy people—is not wrong. In other words, they deserve it!

“A’Bao” is slang, a general term for people who make a living through fortune-telling fraud. “Xiang” refers to the fraudster, and “yi” refers to the victim.

In 1948, I was 20 years old. To make a living, I followed Zu Ye. Zu Ye was the head of the local swindler circle—experienced and ruthless. If you wanted to engage in black market activities in the area, you had to acknowledge him as your master. Otherwise, he would have someone “cut” you (kill you). It was like today’s organized pickpocket rings.

Once you followed Zu Ye, you had protection, but all the money and goods you swindled also had to be “exposed to the sun.” “Exposing to the sun” meant you had to hand over every penny without fail, and then he would give you a “cut.” How much specifically, that was entirely up to Zu Ye to decide.

Some people privately hid their earnings. Zu Ye had methods—otherwise he wouldn’t be called Zu Ye. His psychological warfare was formidable, and he also sent people to “draw circles” (surveil). As soon as it was discovered, one finger would be chopped off. A second offense meant being “cut.”

Once you entered this trade, don’t think about getting out, because you knew too much. Either continue working, or be “cut.”

Usually no one rebelled, because the income was very high. This trade had no off-season.

Having followed Zu Ye, the first thing was to learn yin-yang and the five elements. This was called laying the foundation. Even if you were swindling, you needed some basic knowledge; otherwise, if you stumbled, Zu Ye would also be implicated. After laying the foundation for a month, I began learning “Yingyao”—the psychology of deception. The core formulas of Yingyao remain fresh in my memory to this day:

Upon entering the door, observe their intention; when speaking, show no hesitation

When Heaven comes to ask about Zhui, Zhui seeks desire and nobility; when Zhui comes to ask Heaven, Heaven worries for Heaven

Eight asks Seven; the joyful one desires to rely on Seven’s honor, the resentful one truly suffers Seven’s sorrows

Seven asks Eight; if not Eight having troubles, then certainly difficulties with offspring

When scholars ask about their future, grandsons are regarded as near-ancient

Repeatedly asking about this matter means this matter is certainly lacking; frequently asking the reason means there is definitely a reason within

Monks and Daoists follow lofty ideals, yet do not forget profit and desire

Temple and court worthies have their aspirations in mountains and forests

First Brother requires a ruthless blade, Second Brother requires a thrown blade, Third Date requires a flea

These are all code words that I need to explain slowly.

The first phrase: Upon entering the door, observe their intention; when speaking, show no hesitation.

This means when someone comes for a fortune reading, or when you go to someone’s door to read their fortune, don’t speak first. Let the other party talk. The more they talk, the more information they reveal. When you’ve identified the right moment, suddenly say something—it must hit the vital point. Never hesitate, never be ambiguous, otherwise the other party will think you lack skill! So how do you grasp the vital point? That’s what the following phrases are for.

The second phrase: When Heaven comes to ask about Zhui, Zhui seeks desire and nobility; when Zhui comes to ask Heaven, Heaven worries for Heaven.

“Heaven” refers to the father, “Zhui” refers to the son. This phrase means that whenever a father comes to have his son’s fortune told, it’s basically to ask whether the son will amount to anything, whether he will be wealthy and noble. All parents hope their sons will become dragons and their daughters will become phoenixes, even if they’re just geckos or wild chickens. Since he’s asking these questions, the implication is that currently the son or daughter is not making progress, or shows no signs of wealth and nobility, or is mischievous and troublesome. If you make your prediction along these lines, you definitely won’t be wrong! The second half of the phrase says that whenever children come to have their parents’ fortunes told, it’s absolutely because the father or mother’s health is poor—either they’re ill, or about to pass away. Apart from this, children have no other reason to think of their parents! So directly predict that his father or mother’s health is poor—definitely no problem!

The third phrase: Eight asks Seven; the joyful one desires to rely on Seven’s honor, the resentful one truly suffers Seven’s sorrows.

“Eight” refers to the wife, “Seven” refers to the husband. This means that whenever a wife comes to ask about her husband’s prospects and fortune, if this woman arrives happily, beaming with joy, it indicates her husband may recently be getting an official position or financial windfall—in short, something good is about to happen, but the good fortune hasn’t arrived yet, or has just begun to show signs. She comes to divine about it, so you can directly predict that her husband has blessings and prosperity and will have great fortune. Regardless of the outcome, at that moment she’ll definitely be grinning like a foolish roe deer and will give a generous reward! Conversely, if this woman arrives with a worried expression, then certainly her husband has recently had bad luck—either about to lose his position, or lose money, or dump her, or their relationship is troubled. If you predict toward the ominous direction, you’ll definitely be close to the mark! Then severely admonish her, telling her that if she doesn’t resolve the calamity, she’ll be unlucky for ten years and even have life-threatening concerns. At this point, she’ll obediently take out the silver dollars from her pocket. You’ve deceived her, yet she’ll still kowtow to you!

The fourth phrase: Seven asks Eight; if not Eight having troubles, then certainly difficulties with offspring.

This phrase means that whenever a husband comes to have his wife’s fortune told, there are only two possibilities: either he suspects his wife of infidelity and being cuckolded, or his wife isn’t laying eggs and can’t bear children! Apart from these, a husband will never have his wife’s fortune told!

The fifth phrase: When scholars ask about their future, grandsons are regarded as near-ancient.

There are also two code words here: “grandsons” refers to merchants, wealthy people; “near-ancient”—”near” means alive, “ancient” means dead. Scholars are students. When a scholar comes, he’s definitely asking about his future prospects—whether he can achieve high honors, become an official, bring glory to his ancestors. When a wealthy man comes, he’s definitely asking how long he’ll live, or whether there are major disasters or obstacles on his life’s road, because he has plenty of money, lacks nothing, and only fears not living long. Once you grasp this psychology, everything becomes easy!

The sixth phrase: Repeatedly asking about this matter means this matter is certainly lacking; frequently asking the reason means there is definitely a reason within.

Whenever someone asks about a certain matter over and over again, then this matter is definitely very bad, very unsatisfactory, very imperfect. Whenever someone keeps grabbing onto one question and asking endlessly, then this question is the cause of the matter she’s inquiring about. It’s not that your divination is accurate—it’s that she’s revealed too much!

The seventh phrase: Monks and Daoists follow lofty ideals, yet do not forget profit and desire.

True renunciants won’t go for fortune-telling. If those sanctimonious monks and Daoists come to inquire about matters, it’s a manifestation that their worldly hearts aren’t dead—they’re either asking about profit or desire. If you promise them profit and desire, they’ll certainly be greatly pleased!

The eighth phrase: Temple and court worthies have their aspirations in mountains and forests.

“Temple and court worthies” refers to officials. Those high-ranking officials actually have even greater ambitions and stronger interest in profit. Still promise them profit and desire, and they’ll also be greatly pleased!

The ninth phrase: First Brother requires a ruthless blade, Second Brother requires a thrown blade, Third Date requires a flea.

This is code again. “First Brother” refers to the easiest foolish roe deer to hook—they believe you completely. At this time, the blade must be ruthless. How ruthless? Zu Ye said: “Just don’t make them lose everything!” “Second Brother” refers to someone who has doubts about you or thinks your divination isn’t accurate. At this time, never linger in battle, never be greedy—don’t accept a single penny! “Third Date” refers to someone deliberately looking for trouble. If you can tell at a glance they’re coming to make trouble, immediately slip away. Zu Ye will settle the rest!

Having said this, you must think Zu Ye is a very remarkable person. Yes! Zu Ye was a cultured man. He looked good, very kind-faced. If you didn’t know him, you could never connect him with fraud, bribery, and murder.

Zu Ye rarely got angry. Only when the “Little Feet” stumbled would he lose his temper, but even then not much. It wasn’t the beating and scolding you’d imagine, but as soon as his face darkened, it was enough to scare you half to death!

The biggest temper I ever saw Zu Ye lose was in my second year in the trade. Several Batou wanted to “climb incense”—”Batou” were the second-level managers under Zu Ye, “climb incense” meant rebellion. Zu Ye was thunderously furious at the time and personally “cut” the ringleader.

First Fortune-Telling

The first time I hooked a roe deer was two months after joining the hall. Because I was a novice, I wasn’t allowed to work the city scenes. Zu Ye arranged for me to go to a small village called “Anjia Zhuang.” Zu Ye said I was fat with small eyes and could roll my eyes back to pretend to be blind. This way the other party’s psychological defenses wouldn’t be as strong. Only later did I understand—this job didn’t really count for much, at best it was “testing the waters.” It was far from the big games where Zu Ye could net several hundred silver dollars at once!

I took a bamboo pole and wobbled into the village. The first few households I visited all chased me out.

Later, one household finally let me sit down and talk. It was an old lady home alone. The old lady was about sixty-some years old, her face full of wrinkles. She invited me into the house, repeatedly saying: “Take it slow, take it slow. I’ll get you a stool.”

At that moment my heart felt terrible, because her eyesight wasn’t as good as mine. The old lady also poured me a cup of water. When I took it, I saw her hands were all cracked, very rough, like tree bark. I suddenly thought of my deceased mother. Mother had died of tuberculosis the year before. Those hands were just like this old lady’s!

I softened a bit, but immediately thought of Zu Ye’s eyes, thought of the task assigned by the Batou.

The old lady asked with concern: “So young and already doing this work?”

I rolled my eyes back: “Auntie, I’ve been blind since childhood. I studied divination with my master. My eyes are blind, but my heart is clear.”

The old lady said: “Right! Right! Right! Good child.”

I said: “Mm, I have no other skills, just know how to divine. Auntie, who are you having me read for? Yourself?”

The old lady said: “No. I’m almost in the ground. No need for a reading. Please look at my son, see how he’ll do these two years. Are there obstacles or disasters?”

This sentence directly revealed that her son definitely hadn’t been doing well these past two years, and when the old lady said this, her voice was trembling.

I said: “Auntie, you need to tell me your son’s birthday—which year, which month, which day, what hour?”

Actually this was just acting. How to interpret it, what to say—I’d already thought it through!

After the old lady reported her son’s birth date and time, I began calculating on my fingers, rolling my eyes back. I saw the old lady waiting anxiously.

“Auntie, your son has a water fate. These past two years he’s been conflicting with Tai Sui, not very smooth.” After speaking, I waited for her to respond, to see how she’d react. According to the pattern, it would basically be an affirmative answer. If it was negative, it didn’t matter. I said “these two years,” which could also include this year. This year just started and hasn’t ended yet. If she denied it, I’d say it would be seen in the second half of the year.

The old lady sighed: “Yes.”

I immediately said: “Auntie, your son is a filial son!”

This sentence hit the mark almost every time, because parents love their children ten-fold, and if children return even one-fold to their parents, the parents feel their child is filial. Moreover, unfilial children are a minority anyway. If her son were a disloyal, unfilial ingrate, she wouldn’t be this sad, much less have his fortune told.

The old lady shed tears: “Yes, my son, he’s so good to me. Tall, strong, filial.”

I saw tears in the old lady’s eyes. I continued: “These past two years he’s been affected by the Running Horse Star!”

The old lady asked: “What star?”

I said loudly: “The Running Horse Star means running east and west, exhausting and bitter.” In that era, to make a living, who wasn’t running east and west!

Tears fell from the old lady’s eyes: “Yes, he was conscripted last year. To this day I don’t know if he’s dead or alive.”

Seeing the old lady cry, I actually cried too. I don’t know if it was for her or for myself.

Seeing me cry, the old lady took a dirty handkerchief, wiping my tears while saying: “Child, don’t cry. Child, don’t cry.”

I said: “Auntie, I feel sad for you.”

The old lady said: “Good child, good child.”

I said: “Auntie, your son is in difficulty now, very dangerous.”

The old lady said in alarm: “What’s wrong? Is he still alive?”

I said: “Alive, he’s alive, just too dangerous. Those bullets on the battlefield don’t have eyes. This calamity must be resolved. If not resolved, he won’t come back!”

The old lady was greatly shocked: “Quickly resolve it, how do we resolve it?”

I said: “Get a piece of red cloth and write your son’s name on it. At midnight tonight, tie it to a large locust tree. Say: ‘Great locust tree, great locust tree, my son acknowledges you as his godmother. Protect my son from harm.’ Then kowtow three times, come back and cover the red cloth over the chicken coop, and that’s it. Auntie, remember clearly.” The more vividly you describe disaster resolution, the more real it seems. This method of acknowledging large trees as godmothers and water dustpans as godfathers were commonly used by fortune-tellers.

The old lady said: “This will protect him from trouble?”

I said: “Auntie, that’s not enough yet. Your son has killed too many people on the battlefield. Those he killed will also demand his life.”

The old lady began worrying again: “Then what do we do?”

I said: “You must do good deeds on his behalf. Do more good deeds—good is rewarded with good!”

The old lady said: “Right! Right! Right! Child, you speak correctly! How do I help him do this?”

I said: “Donate some incense money on his behalf. I’ll help you send it to the temple. I’ve revealed heavenly secrets, so I must also help donate. Once donated, all will be well. At the latest, next spring, your son will return!”

The old lady smiled, lips pressed together, happily went back to her room. After a long while she brought out two “big white strips.” Big white strips were a term for fiat currency. Because of hyperinflation, they were nearly worthless!

I said: “Auntie, this money can’t be spent outside now. Many places don’t accept it. I can’t use it for incense money. We can’t deceive the Buddha.”

The old lady said awkwardly: “Oh, I still have a few copper coins.”

Following Zu Ye’s teaching, silver dollars and copper coins were all accepted. With this hard currency in hand, it didn’t matter how the Nationalist government reformed.

I took the copper coins. Looking, there were only three. I said: “Auntie, if you really don’t have any, forget it. I’ll contribute for you.”

The old lady hurriedly said: “That won’t do, that won’t do. Child, wait. I still have some new cloth that hasn’t been cut.” The old lady rummaged in her room for quite a while, then brought out a roll of blue cloth from the bottom of her trunk—the kind of dyed blue coarse cloth rural people used for quilt covers.

I said: “This will do, Auntie. I’ll donate it all for you.”

The old lady was so happy she couldn’t close her mouth: “What luck to meet you, child! What luck!”

After speaking, she led me out the door, then slowly said: “Child, be careful on the road. There’s a well at the village entrance.”

I said: “I know, Auntie.”

I walked out of the village with my bamboo pole, pretending. All the way I ran, all the way I cried.

The first time working a scene yielded very little. Apart from those two “big white strips” that could be ignored, it was just a few feet of coarse cloth and three copper coins.

But it was still more than the other two new hands hooked. Of those two, one got nothing and was even cursed at. The other, fearing blame from Zu Ye and the Batou, actually stole an iron sledgehammer used for stakes in someone’s apricot orchard at the village entrance to deliver something.

Zu Ye said: “We are ‘xiang,’ not thieves! If you work an empty scene, come back empty. Thieving is not to be done!”

That frightened Little Foot quickly knelt down, repeatedly admitting his error.

Zu Ye said: “It’s not your fault. Er Batou!”

Er Batou immediately stepped forward and knelt: “Zu Ye!”

Zu Ye said: “Your foot—you must lead them well!” He roared until Er Batou’s head was covered in sweat.

Every time we returned from working scenes, we had to report in detail. First, to count the roe deer; second, to avoid collision scenes next time. Each Batou kept accounts, but none could out-calculate the account in Zu Ye’s heart.

Zu Ye’s mind was too meticulous. After the hall meeting ended, he kept me back alone.

Zu Ye said: “You softened.”

I thought: How does he know?

Zu Ye said: “You cried.”

I said: “Yes, because she was too pitiful.”

Zu Ye said: “Pitiful? Do you think I’m pitiful?”

I stared at Zu Ye stupidly, not understanding what he meant.

Zu Ye said: “I’m even more pitiful! Every day dozens of guns pointed at my head. Step on any wrong line and people die!”

Zu Ye wasn’t wrong. To be able to run A’Bao operations in an area, first you had to settle the key figures on both the black and white paths. Monthly tributes couldn’t be reduced, and during transitions of power, double portions had to be sent.

Because these people could not only keep you safe, but when necessary could also help you set up games. As long as benefits were properly distributed, they would betray even their own fathers. They dared to target Nationalist Party high officials, Shanghai tycoons, even Soong Mei-ling herself. Small games could be done immediately. Big games might need to be laid for months or even years, but the harvest from big games was also very tempting. One big game completed could often cover the entire hall’s expenses for several years.

Hall Legends

Setting up games yielded high returns but also high risk, because these people weren’t ordinary roe deer—they were all cunning foxes, one more clever than the next. Getting them to be “yi” wasn’t easy. Sometimes games would have holes—someone would “flip sides,” or a big “yi” would become a big “date.”

At such times, people generally had to die. As for who died—that depended on the specific situation.

Following Zu Ye meant entrusting your life and death to him. Afraid of death? In Zu Ye’s words: “If you’re afraid of death, you might as well go home and raise pigs!” The A’Bao trade was high risk, high reward. Look at the Batou around Zu Ye—which one hadn’t been through hundreds of battles, escaped death to get here!

Let’s talk about Da Batou first. He was the hall’s gold medal killer. Killing people, slaughtering dogs, butchering pigs—these were all his jobs. Da Batou was the one among the current Batou who had followed Zu Ye the longest. He looked extremely fierce, chubby, with a shaved bald head. He had scalp sores on his head, and when his hair grew it would itch, so he never kept hair. Every few days he’d shave once, shiny and bright. Every time the hall held meetings, his head was covered in sweat, looking very hot.

Zu Ye recruited Da Batou in the thirteenth year of the Republic, which was precisely the second year after Zu Ye took charge of the hall. Before joining, Da Batou was a pig butcher, working as an assistant to a street butcher. One day after finishing work, that butcher gave him two jin of smoked meat. Unexpectedly, on the road he encountered several thugs who insisted on robbing the smoked meat from his hands. Da Batou refused. They forced the issue. The result—Da Batou got angry. Real fighting isn’t like the martial arts novels describe, with techniques and forms. When it really breaks out, you use whatever you have, whatever works. Da Batou first crushed one person’s testicles, then poked out another person’s eye. Biting and tearing, he finally used a brick to smash one person’s head open. As a result, Da Batou was sentenced to death.

This incident spread widely at the time. After Zu Ye heard about it, he felt this person was material, so he spent heavily to redeem him for his own use. Zu Ye indeed had a discerning eye for people. Da Batou didn’t disappoint Zu Ye’s expectations. After joining the hall, he dared to fight and struggle. When gangs came to make trouble, he was the first to rush forward. When stabbing people with knives, he never blinked! There really are such people in this world—they get excited seeing blood. Da Batou belonged to this category. Over all these years, he remained utterly loyal to Zu Ye. Like Er Batou, they both belonged to Zu Ye’s inner guard.

If Da Batou was someone who got excited seeing blood, then Er Batou was someone who got excited seeing dead people.

Er Batou was a legend. He followed Zu Ye at age 15. That was in 1928, right before the Second Northern Expedition. Many regions south of the Yangtze were spreading terrifying rumors of “Yaofu seizing souls.” The rumors spread from Nanjing, saying that a little boy was playing with companions on the street when a woman walked over, touched the child’s head a few times, then turned and left. The result—the child immediately turned deathly pale, limbs stiff, eyes staring straight ahead without speaking. From then on, he’d lost his soul.

This rumor quickly spread throughout Nanjing, then spread to other regions. Many parents worried their children would have their souls stolen by Yaofu, so they tied red hair ribbons on their children, stuffed peach leaves in their pockets to ward off evil. Later it was rumored that Yaofu didn’t even spare adults, so adults also tied red waist belts. Later they simply cut women’s menstrual cloths into pieces and put them in every pocket, terrified their souls would be seized by Yaofu.

Zu Ye happened to use this opportunity to make a fortune under the pretext of exorcising demons and summoning souls. One day Zu Ye was walking on the street when a boy came toward him and crashed straight into him. Zu Ye could tell at a glance he was a thief. In just a few moves, he had the kid’s arm twisted. Zu Ye said: “So young and already doing this! Be careful I don’t hand you over to Yaofu to have your soul seized!”

That kid’s face turned defiant: “I’m not afraid!”

Zu Ye examined him carefully. Indeed, he had no red hair ribbon tied anywhere on his body. Zu Ye smiled and said: “You’re not afraid of death!”

That kid said: “Only a ghost would believe that!”

Zu Ye started to like this fellow. He said: “Why steal wallets?”

The kid cocked his neck: “Hungry!”

Zu Ye released his hand and patted his head: “Come with me.”

The kid said: “For what? To hand me over to Yaofu?”

Zu Ye slapped him lightly: “To eat!”

Zu Ye stopped at a wonton shop on the street and bought him a bowl of wontons. This kid finished it in a few bites, not even afraid of burning his mouth. He bought him another bowl, which was quickly devoured. Zu Ye smiled: “How many more bowls can you eat?”

The kid said: “If you can afford to buy them, I can eat them.”

Zu Ye waved his hand and said: “Good! Shopkeeper, ten more bowls!”

The kid loosened his waistband and began eating voraciously, consuming twelve bowls in total. Zu Ye laughed, knowing this was talent!

Later he learned this kid’s parents had died early. He’d been wandering the streets since age 8. Zu Ye decided to keep him. Several years later, he became the famous Er Batou in the A’Bao circle. Zu Ye’s eye was truly sharp—sharp in that he could see at a glance the most valuable aspect of a person. Zu Ye had taken a liking to Er Batou’s courage.

When Er Batou first followed Zu Ye, he resisted discipline. Transforming a street thief accustomed to freedom into a proper A’Bao was no easy task. Zu Ye beat him plenty, but he never cried, as if the one being beaten wasn’t himself.

Finally Zu Ye ran out of options and said: “Leave!” Only then did he begin to soften. Without Zu Ye, he had no food to eat. Later Er Batou gradually submitted to Zu Ye, because Zu Ye was ten thousand times smarter than him. Every time he was about to open his mouth, Zu Ye already knew what nonsense he was about to spout.

Er Batou’s courage was enormous—he dared to do anything. Especially when playing “Zhafei techniques,” he was simply masterful. “Zhafei” was A’Bao circle slang, meaning to pretend to communicate with spirits and ghosts. The more superstitious the common people, the more market there was for “Zhafei.”

Before officially “Zhafei-ing,” Zu Ye had deliberately tested his courage.

Zu Ye told him: “Didn’t you say you’re not afraid of ghosts? I heard that at the ruined temple at Sanli Ridge outside the city, a beggar starved to death. Tonight, go strip off his clothes and bring them back to me.”

Er Batou said: “What’s so difficult about that? It’s not like I haven’t done this before. When I was freezing and couldn’t stand it, I even stripped burial clothes off freshly buried people.” After speaking, he was ready to set off.

Zu Ye said: “Wait. I’ve heard people say that those who starve to death become hungry ghosts after death. At midnight they’ll still open their mouths, and if you feed them food, they can still eat. I don’t know if it’s true or false. When you go, take a bowl of rice and feed that beggar to see if he’ll open his mouth.”

Er Batou laughed: “Pure nonsense. How could such a thing happen!”

That night, hazy moonlight shrouded the old city. Er Batou wrapped a small bowl of rice in a cloth, tucked it at his waist, and set off by moonlight.

It was a mountain god temple that no one had managed for ages. The wooden door had several holes. Er Batou walked for an hour before arriving. All around was silence, with occasional cricket chirps.

Er Batou steadied himself and pushed the door. The door hinge was broken. He pushed harder. With a creak, the door opened. A gust of dead person’s burial qi hit him in the face. After people die, they emit a special smell, commonly called burial qi. This smell was very peculiar—sweetish yet fishy, and it traveled far, which is why crows could always find corpses.

Er Batou felt in the dark for the corpse. Borrowing a few rays of moonlight from the door crack, he began stripping the clothes. Suddenly remembering the bowl of rice at his waist, he hurriedly untied the cloth and took it out. Scooping a handful of rice with his hand, he pushed it to the corpse’s mouth, thinking: “It’d be weird if you could eat!”

Unexpectedly, that corpse actually opened its mouth, slowly opening wide, even making an “eh” sound. Er Batou suspected he was seeing things. He blinked hard. It really had opened. Er Batou tremblingly stuffed the rice into the corpse’s mouth. The corpse slowly began chewing. Er Batou was stunned, his scalp tingling. Seeing the corpse had finished chewing the rice, it swallowed with a gulp, made an “eh” sound, and opened its mouth again. Er Batou went crazy. “Go to hell!” He directly smashed the bowl at the corpse’s face! The corpse suddenly sat up and howled. Er Batou took to his heels and ran, fleeing back to the city in a flash.

Zu Ye was waiting for him. Seeing him return covered in sweat, he asked: “The clothes?”

Er Batou, out of breath, said: “Disaster, disaster, encountered the real thing, it ate, really ate…”

Zu Ye laughed heartily and said: “If he eats, you feed him. He starved to death. Feeding him is accumulating merit.”

Er Batou said: “Too strange! I saw him open his mouth and eat, so I smashed the bowl on his face, and he actually sat up…”

Zu Ye was startled: “You smashed it on his face?”

Er Batou said: “Yeah, smashed it and ran.”

Zu Ye said: “Wait.”

Er Batou said: “Wait for what?”

Zu Ye said: “You’ll know in a moment.”

After about half an hour, Da Batou came in from outside, his face covered in blood. Er Batou was shocked: “Big Brother, what happened to you?”

Da Batou was burning with rage: “You still ask me! You struck too ruthlessly!”

Zu Ye smiled: “Go wash up quickly.”

This was a setup. That starved beggar was Da Batou in disguise. The real dead person had already been moved away by Da Batou, but no one expected that after being stimulated, Er Batou would become angry from embarrassment and directly bash Da Batou. From then on, Da Batou had a deep scar on his face, but Zu Ye became even more satisfied with Er Batou.

Compared to Da Batou and Er Batou, San Batou was a refined, intellectual-type A’Bao. Astronomy, geography, yin-yang, and the Eight Trigrams—there was nothing he didn’t know. He had also read the Analects and Mencius thoroughly, could quote classics effortlessly, and wrote with literary brilliance. This kind of wolf in sheep’s clothing, sanctimonious and wearing human skin, was the most terrifying.

San Batou followed Zu Ye in 1930. Before that, he was a rural fortune-telling swindler who knew some theory and was skilled at cheating. One day he came to the city to swindle and ate into Zu Ye’s territory, actually daring to set up a fortune-telling stall on the street! Da Batou suggested Zu Ye cut him. Zu Ye said: “Let’s see first.”

Zu Ye sent several people to probe his depth. Several Little Feet came back saying this kid cheated beautifully—the common people were all deceived.

Zu Ye decided to personally meet him. Arriving at his stall, Zu Ye saw this person was only in his early twenties, a pretty boy, wearing a long gown, graceful and refined. When telling fortunes, his eloquence flowed like a river. Zu Ye deliberately showed him openings, letting him cheat. This kid thought he’d encountered a big roe deer. He rambled on with nonsense about toads here and rubbish there. Zu Ye nodded repeatedly. Finally Zu Ye gave him several silver dollars and said: “I didn’t bring much silver today. Follow me home to get more. While we’re at it, take a look at my house and adjust the feng shui. I’ll reward you handsomely!”

San Batou hurriedly closed his stall and happily followed Zu Ye home. The result was predictable—as soon as he entered the door, several Little Feet tied him up. Da Batou stepped forward and slapped him: “You don’t even look for a proper place to shit!”

San Batou was slapped seeing stars, but his mind was clear—he absolutely couldn’t admit he was a swindler. He said dejectedly: “Sir, why is this? I’m just a small fortune-teller. Coming to your honored place, I was just seeking a meal. I don’t know how I’ve offended you!”

Er Batou, standing to the side, finally couldn’t hold back. He stepped forward and kicked him, then slapped the back of his head: “Keep pretending! Keep pretending for me!”

San Batou said through tears: “Master, spare my life! I’m just a fortune-teller. If the reading wasn’t accurate, I’ll refund the money. Master, don’t beat me! I have a seventy-year-old mother above and a three-year-old child below!”

Er Batou exchanged a glance with Da Batou. Da Batou drew the pig-slaughtering knife from his waist and walked to San Batou: “I’ll cut out your tongue right now, let you keep pretending!”

San Batou cried and shouted at Zu Ye: “That master over there, say something! Wasn’t my reading for you accurate? Wasn’t it fine just now? Master!”

Zu Ye waved his hand. Da Batou retreated to the side with his knife. Zu Ye walked in front of San Batou and stuck out his thumb: “Brother, you really have balls!” (Local dialect, meaning “guts”)

San Batou was startled: “What balls, master?”

Zu Ye nodded: “Talent.”

San Batou continued playing dumb: “Master, are you talking about me? I’m just a small fortune-teller…”

Zu Ye raised his hand. A flying nail shot out, hitting San Batou’s left ear. The ear was instantly pierced, a small piece of flesh on the earlobe knocked off. San Batou screamed in pain: “Master, I’ll talk! I’ll talk!”

Zu Ye shouted: “Turtle name?”

“Xue Jiaren!”

“Nest handle?”

“Xuzhou, Pei County!”

“Big master dad?”

“Dingshui Fengzi!”

“How many years?”

“Three!”

“Split party or not?”

“Don’t dare!”

Da Batou and Er Batou saw that Zu Ye was still formidable—he had this kid settled in just a few exchanges. This exchange was all A’Bao circle slang. “Turtle name” asked his real name. “Nest handle” asked where he was from. “Big master dad” asked who his leader was. “Dingshui Fengzi” meant no organization, roaming criminal. “How many years” asked how many years he’d done this trade. “Three” was the number meaning three. “Split party or not” asked if he’d killed anyone.

Zu Ye took a liking to his eloquence and courage, especially his pretentious, never-admit-defeat character, which made Zu Ye feel this person was indispensable.

Zu Ye smiled and said: “Follow me.”

Having heard those slang phrases Zu Ye asked, San Batou already understood—this was someone from the same trade, and moreover a master. All these years San Batou had been fighting solo. Although he could solve basic needs, he never achieved anything. With no backing, he didn’t dare do big jobs. Now he’d finally found an organization. San Batou followed Zu Ye just like that. Of course, at that time he wasn’t San Batou. Later, after the hall’s Old Number Three died of illness, he was promoted to San Batou.

Compared to the first three Batou, Si Batou always gave people a sullen feeling—didn’t like to talk—but he was the entire hall’s “technical strategist.” In today’s terms, he was STEM talent. Before setting up games, especially big “Zhafei” games, he prepared all the props. He could mix cinnabar and phosphorus in certain proportions. Using this mixture to draw talismans, the talismans could glow in the dark. He could use alum to prepare peculiar potions. Dipping this potion to write on paper, nothing could be seen after writing. Then using fire to burn it, the paper turned black and the characters would appear. According to what everyone said, Si Batou was snatched from the Japanese by Zu Ye and was once cultivated as a successor. Moreover, Zu Ye personally arranged his marriage, finding him a miraculously capable, beautiful female A’Bao as his wife. This truly made others envious. But alas, man’s plans are no match for heaven’s—later many changes occurred, causing Si Batou’s spirit to receive enormous stimulation. His entire person became depressed.

Wu Batou belonged to the same category as San Batou, also an intellectual-type A’Bao. Supposedly proficient in feng shui, physiognomy, and celestial phenomena—whether truly knowledgeable or faking it, who knew. Anyway, after I entered the trade, several times I saw him standing on mountain peaks, gazing at the firmament, very absorbed. His greatest ability was that he could draw the entire nation’s dragon veins (mountain ranges) without the slightest error. Every time before setting up a feng shui game, wherever Zu Ye asked, he could answer. He laid a solid theoretical foundation for the hall’s feng shui games each time.

Liu Batou, people called him “Fengzi Shou.” “Fengzi” was slang for horse. Supposedly this nickname was given to Liu Batou by Zu Ye because Liu Batou had good lightness skills. Normally he was responsible for contacting informants, underworld public relations, and scouting locations before setting up games—like an untiring horse, hence this elegant nickname.

“Fengzi Shou” had strong martial arts skills, excelling at lightness techniques and “Zonghe Fist.” Speaking of lightness skills, they weren’t actually as miraculous as legend has it—what “traveling two or three li, four or five zhang from the ground”—that’s Sun Wukong, not a person. Anyone who is human has weight and must follow Earth’s gravity. So-called lightness skills were actually just being more nimble on the feet than ordinary people, running faster, climbing trees and walls more agilely. The general practice method was to tie sandbags to the legs, then persist in running every day or jumping up from a small pit. As the sandbag weight increased, a person’s endurance would become stronger and stronger. After practicing hard like this for several years, once the sandbags were removed, the entire leg felt relieved of a heavy burden. When running, wind was generated under the feet, and the whole person felt very light! The “Seventy-Two Arts of Shaolin” has special records of lightness skill practice methods.

“Fengzi Shou’s” lightness skills were indeed excellent. For walls over two zhang high, he would generate force in his feet, make a running start, his toes would skim the wall surface, his hands would grab on, his feet would rise consecutively, and whoosh—he’d flip over. Additionally, he made modifications to his ancestral “Zonghe Fist,” adding the fierce power of “Hong Fist.” Zu Ye often said “Fengzi Shou” was a martial arts prodigy.

“Fengzi Shou” was born in the tenth year of the Republic. His uncle was a backbone member of Wang Yaqiao’s “Axe Gang.” According to Er Batou, “Fengzi Shou” was only 14 when he followed Zu Ye. Zu Ye brought him into the organization because he valued his social connections.

The last Batou was Qi Batou. He also had a nickname—”Xianren Shou.” He entered the trade late, had the shallowest seniority among all Batou. Previously he was a Little Foot under Er Batou. Due to being ruthless and having superb Zhafei techniques, just before I entered the trade in 1948, he had just been recommended by Er Batou and became the hall’s Qi Batou. “Xianren Shou” looked shifty-eyed and rat-like. When looking at people, his eyeballs rolled around constantly.

These Batou were all formidable, worthy of being called dragons and phoenixes among men. But you mustn’t forget—they all bowed obediently to Zu Ye. How formidable Zu Ye was, you can imagine.

Fortune-Telling Psychology

I joined the hall during a turbulent season. During that period, because of the conflict between the Nationalists and Communists, all the major halls’ businesses weren’t doing well, especially in liberated areas. Many halls had “jumped scenes.” Northern A’Bao began “walking the wind,” fleeing south to compete for business. Zu Ye specially convened several hall meetings about this matter to deal with the increasingly chaotic situation in the A’Bao circle.

After new people entered the trade, they needed old hands to lead them. The A’Bao ranks had a strict hierarchy system. From high to low it was: Grand Scholar, Second Place Scholar, Third Place Scholar, Hanlin, Presented Scholar, Provincial Graduate, etc. Grand Scholar was the highest leader of an area, addressed externally as “Da Shiba” (Big Master Dad). Zu Ye was “Da Shiba.” This title was a mark of status and position. People in the trade, upon hearing this title, would give some face. When A’Bao from different places met in the jianghu, if they couldn’t figure out seniority, the younger ones would often address the older ones as “Da Shiba,” showing respect for elders. The second rank was Second Place Scholar, also called “Batou.”

Previously, A’Bao had to start from the elementary “Xiucai” level and needed “Provincial Graduates” to lead them. But after the Xinhai Revolution, the A’Bao group split into pieces. Many rules changed. Zu Ye canceled the rank levels for brothers in his own hall. Besides Da Shiba, the second rank was Batou. The rest were all Little Feet now, no longer subdivided into ranks. This was Zu Ye’s management method.

After Little Feet entered the trade, they all had to follow a Batou. As for whom to follow, that had to be chosen by the Batou. Each Batou had his own unique skills. He had to see if you were that material, if you were suitable for his line of work. For example, Da Batou was a killer. If a newcomer was bold and liked killing, he would certainly recruit him. As for Er Batou, skilled at Zhafei—people with talent for pretending to communicate with spirits and ghosts, he would certainly select. San Batou was the genuine learning type. If you didn’t study, weren’t literate, didn’t understand the Four Books and Five Classics, he wouldn’t take you. The other Batou were the same—all selected and taught according to the person.

At that time, the seven Batou observed repeatedly for several days. All the new people were settled except me—no one chose me, no one was willing to lead me.

Finally Zu Ye pointed at me and asked with a smile: “No one wants this one?”

All the Batou remained silent. After quite a while, Er Batou yawned, scratched his head, and said loudly: “Follow me!”

Actually I didn’t want to follow him. He was different from normal people—only had nine fingers. Every time I saw that bare pinky finger stump, my heart felt chilly.

Though I thought this in my heart, I still hurried to kneel before Er Batou and said: “Thank you, Er Ye.”

Afterward Er Batou said to me: “Look at your appearance—ugly and stupid. No wonder the other Batou don’t want you. But I think Zu Ye quite likes you. Among you newly-entered Little Feet, you’re the one Zu Ye scolds the least. It’s strange—I, Er Ye, also fancy you.”

After a period of tempering and training, we newcomers began learning the Six-Character True Formula. This was the supreme realm of fraud psychology, personally transmitted by Zu Ye.

The Six-Character True Formula was: Examine, Tap, Strike, Trick, Boom, Sell. The saying goes:

First examine then tap, urgently strike slowly trick

Boom  and sell together, tapping and striking used together

Ten tricks nine sounds, ten booms nine succeed

First trick then go, nothing goes against you

Having trick without boom, emperor longevity talent

The Six-Character True Formula came from the jianghu secret text Yingyao Text (The Brilliant Radiance Text). What A’Bao relied on for fraud were these six characters. Those who could use the Six-Character True Formula to perfection were demon-level geniuses, successful in all directions, invincible in all endeavors.

Simply put, “examine” means to assess, including the other party’s clothing and temperament. Poverty, lowliness, wealth, and nobility all have their appearance—at a glance you can determine this person’s class. The second meaning of “examine” is to listen, to let the other party speak out, to talk more. The more they talk, the more information there is.

“Tap” means to probe. As the saying goes: One tap hits the mark, follow the stick and strike; tap twice without response, search for the snake in the rough. It’s based on examining, then suddenly “tapping.” If you get it right, then you can use the “strike” formula. If you don’t tap correctly twice, then it’s dangerous—like searching for a snake in rough ground, if you’re not careful you’ll get bitten. When it reaches the point of “searching for snake in the rough,” generally an A’Bao will “throw the blade.”

“Strike” means to firmly make a prediction. “Strike” values the character for urgency—suddenly spoken, landing with a thud. The deeper meaning of “strike” is to destroy the other party’s will. Because you “tapped” correctly, they believe you without a doubt, so then you tell them they’ll have bad luck in the future. Tell high officials they’ll lose their positions, tell tycoons they’ll lose their wealth, tell resentful women they’ll be dumped. “Strike” until the other party’s psychological defenses completely collapse.

“Trick” means to deceive. You can trick on the spot, or through setting up a scheme. “Trick” is integrated into the other five characters, valuing the character for “slow.” You can’t be hasty when tricking, otherwise you’ll reveal your fox tail. That’s why it’s called “urgently strike, slowly trick.”

“Boom” means to flatter, to say what the other party loves to hear, to promise them hope. Because you “struck” them, they’re very afraid, their mood has fallen to the valley. At this time you “boom” them, telling them it’s not hopeless yet—if they do as you say, they can still turn danger into safety, turn misfortune into fortune. Then “boom” them again, telling them if they pass this obstacle, then they’ll have great wealth and nobility, live a hundred years. Naturally they’ll be very happy. “Strike” and “boom” correspond to each other. First make the other party despair, then give them hope. At this time, the other party is firmly tied up.

“Strike” and “boom” are actually both methods of “trick” and cannot be separated. If you only use “strike” to trick, no matter how well you trick it’s useless, because the other party has despaired. Anyway, this is fate, they’ve accepted it, and won’t take the bait. So the saying goes: Having trick without boom makes an emperor longevity talent. “Emperor longevity” is slang, meaning fool.

The last character is “sell”—a realm of ease and freedom. However you speak, that’s how the other party listens. The second meaning of “sell” is it’s time to collect money. Everything ultimately is for the gleaming white silver in the other party’s pocket, so the selling must also be done cleanly and decisively.

When Zu Ye transmitted the formulas to everyone, he combined theory with practice. For each character he explained, he would describe in detail the matters he’d experienced to corroborate it.

These six-character true formulas are easy to talk about, but truly mastering them is very difficult. If all six characters are used and the other party still doesn’t quite believe, or holds a try-and-see attitude, then there’s one last move: “Release kill!”

The prerequisite for “releasing kill” is that the other party must be a fat roe deer, somewhat believing yet not fully believing, in an ambiguous situation.

What is “releasing kill”? In the end, it’s still a link in “trick.” For example, you tell him he’ll soon have a “bloody disaster.” He’s half-believing, half-doubting. You want to resolve the calamity for him, but he doesn’t respond. In the end, he only takes out some money for divination but doesn’t take the bait to pay big money to resolve the calamity. At this time you can request Zu Ye’s permission to “release kill.”

Zu Ye will send a foot to follow that person to scout, figure out the other party’s daily activity range, then within three months, find some thugs to block him on the road, deliberately pick a fight, beat him black and blue. The next day, he’ll definitely obediently return, saying: “Master, it came true, it came true! I truly regret not listening to you back then!”

There’s another type—wealthy landlords. You divine that he’ll recently lose great wealth. He doesn’t believe. Then Zu Ye will have someone set a fire in his back courtyard. Within a few days, he’ll obediently come to have the calamity resolved.

In my third year in the trade, I became a Batou. Zu Ye said: “Only people with conscience can become Batou.” He said my heart hadn’t completely died yet, and in the future I could take his position.

It’s very difficult for me to summarize Zu Ye’s character in a few simple sentences. When ruthless, he killed without blinking. When charitable, he was like a Bodhisattva.

Ordinarily, Zu Ye would aid the poor—not in a superficial, token way, but with substantial, genuine help. I don’t know if this was conscience’s repentance or the soul’s redemption.

Zu Ye said the highest realm of being an A’Bao is to only trap evil people, bad people. Like the old lady I hooked the first time—that wasn’t what an A’Bao does. That was just practice, also called practicing the heart. If you dare deceive good people, then you’ll dare to deceive evil people even more.

Actually, in my heart I kept praying for that old lady. Heaven opened its eyes. The next spring, her son actually did come back. Soon the entire nation was liberated too. Later, Zu Ye had me secretly stuff a lot of money in the old lady’s courtyard. When stuffing the money, I felt I’d found myself again.

A’Bao all have poor sleep quality, often waking startled from dreams. Sometimes laughing awake, sometimes frightened awake. When there’s no work, everyone frantically drinks, visits brothels. But there’s one rule—when A’Bao want to play, they go play elsewhere. They can play to their hearts’ content, just must not appear locally!

Because A’Bao normally present themselves in the most dignified, most moral posture, especially the Batou. They all have storefronts, sitting at their storefronts daily, all sanctimonious. If they’re seen in red-light districts, that would be catastrophic disaster!

When going out to play, they’d more or less disguise themselves. For A’Bao this wasn’t difficult—everyone had several sets of costumes, several fake beards. Fraud originally required disguise anyway.

Going out to play was fine, but they couldn’t “walk the wind.” “Walking the wind” meant directly working scenes in other places, or directly joining other circles—this was a major taboo. In the over twenty years Zu Ye had controlled this hall, “walking the wind” had never occurred once.

One Little Foot came back after playing outside and contracted venereal disease, ultimately rotting to death. Before death he said he wanted to see his parents. Zu Ye didn’t allow it. Zu Ye said: “If they see you in this death state, they’ll also die of heartbreak.”

Later, after that foot died, Zu Ye poured gasoline on him and burned him completely clean with one fire. After his death, Zu Ye sent people to deliver money to his family every month, saying he was doing very well outside, just too busy to return.

I asked Zu Ye why he didn’t establish a rule forbidding everyone from going out to solicit prostitutes. Zu Ye said: “Eating, drinking, whoring are human nature. Those who do A’Bao are gambling with their lives—what’s it for? If you suppress his nature, sooner or later he’ll rebel. After eating his fill, drinking his fill, whoring enough, then he has the strength to work.”

At that moment, I felt human nature was so terrifying.

Zu Ye’s Only Leaked Game

After the newcomers learned the Six-Character True Formula, they often gathered to discuss it. Everyone was rubbing their fists and wiping their palms, eager to try.

However, Zu Ye said: “Once you’ve learned the Six-Character True Formula, you’re not far from death.”

This sentence scared everyone speechless. Zu Ye explained: “Those who drown are those who know how to swim. People without ability never dare harbor thieving intentions. Only those who’ve learned dare take risks. Ability is blessing, but also disaster. Therefore, having learned these things, when doing things you should be even more careful!”

Only then did everyone suddenly understand. Indeed so. Before learning these things, everyone felt helpless and dependent on nothing. Having learned these things, they seemed to grasp a handle, always wanting to immediately try. Once evil thoughts arise, danger follows accordingly.

So the newcomers began guessing—apart from this Six-Character True Formula, were there higher-level secrets to use for final remedy?

“There are! But not everyone can learn them,” Zu Ye said. “This last move is intuition! That is, the sixth sense! Intuition is something hard to explain clearly, but it truly exists. Before any matter arrives, in the mysterious unknown there’s a kind of premonition. It’s just that some people can sense it, some people cannot.”

Zu Ye was that kind of person with the most sensitive intuition, which also saved his life. That was Zu Ye’s only “leaked game.”

In the twenty-eighth year of the Republic, that year a high official from the Nationalist Military Intelligence Bureau came to the locality to supervise. Kui Ye said this might be a big “yi.” As long as Zu Ye personally took action, he could definitely trap a large sum.

Kui Ye was the local underworld boss. When the Nationalists searched for Communists, much information was provided by him. Much work was done by his subordinates.

Zu Ye rarely personally took the field. Only for high officials, or wealthy madams, or consortium chairmen would he himself be the “xiang.”

Zu Ye’s “pairing surface” was very good. “Pairing surface” was local dialect for appearance. Zu Ye’s conversation was also very elegant. Only someone with his temperament, his conversation, could sit at the big table, do big games.

Zu Ye’s external identity was the legitimate successor of “Iron Plate Divine Numbers.” Newspapers compared him with Wei Qianli.

Kui Ye had always had dealings with Military Intelligence Bureau people and had even sworn brotherhood with a high official. The one to be trapped this time was his sworn brother.

Kui Ye had long ago sniffed out that his sworn brother was very fatalistic, so he found an opportunity to tell him: “There’s a destiny master in this locality, very formidable, but very hard to invite.”

This high official asked Kui Ye to help arrange a meeting. Three times in a row he couldn’t be arranged. This was called playing hard to get.

Later, several months later, they finally arranged it, meeting at a teahouse. Before this, Zu Ye through Kui Ye’s descriptions already knew this high official inside and out.

Zu Ye first had him report his eight characters. Zu Ye said: “At age 28, you almost became a ghost under the gun.”

That high official said: “Yes.”

“At 29 you were promoted.”

That high official said: “Yes.”

Zu Ye also said: “In your fate you have three wives.”

That high official said: “Yes.”

Zu Ye said: “Next year you’ll have a calamity. You’ll lose your official position.”

That high official said: “Oh?”

Zu Ye said: “Do as I say. I’ll adjust your feng shui.”

Zu Ye explained in detail how to adjust the feng shui layout. Finally that high official grasped Zu Ye’s hand and said: “Sir is truly an elevated person!”

“Someone come.” That high official had his subordinate bring a box. Opening it revealed thick stacks of bills. “Sir has worked hard. Please accept this with a smile.”

Zu Ye smiled: “To be able to serve the Bureau Chief is already my great fortune. How dare I accept your money?” After speaking, he left.

Zu Ye’s sixth sense was very keen. He felt something was wrong, so he temporarily changed plans and took not a penny.

On the road home, Zu Ye discovered someone was tailing him. Zu Ye didn’t look back, striding straight home.

Just arriving home, he discovered four agents standing in his house. Gun barrels immediately pointed over. “Take a trip with us.”

Zu Ye asked: “Go where?”

The agent said: “To see our Bureau Chief.”

Zu Ye was brought back to the bureau. That Bureau Chief said in a sinister tone: “With such a little trick, you think you can deceive me?”

Zu Ye asked uncomprehendingly: “How do you mean?”

That Bureau Chief said: “I sold you a little mystery, and you took the bait.”

Zu Ye immediately understood—this was a “date.” The information he’d revealed to Kui Ye was false.

Zu Ye said: “What do you mean?”

That Bureau Chief said: “That bastard Kui Er recognizes money but not his father. From the day he introduced you to me, I became suspicious. I knew he knew many things about me, so I deliberately made up nonsense about almost being killed at 28. As a result, you calculated it exactly. Tell me, don’t you deserve to die!”

Zu Ye smiled: “The Bureau Chief is indeed clever. This indeed happened.”

That Bureau Chief was startled.

Zu Ye said: “Kui Er told me the Bureau Chief wanted fortune-telling and wanted me to divine accurately. We fortune-tellers can’t guarantee every detail is accurate. He said he’d provide me information, and we’d split the money evenly. He’s from the underworld—we fortune-tellers don’t dare provoke him, so we could only do as he said. But, Bureau Chief, I didn’t take a penny. Because we fortune-tellers believe good is rewarded with good, evil is rewarded with evil.”

That Bureau Chief smiled and said: “Well then, now you divine for me. If you divine accurately, I’ll release you. If you divine wrong, I’ll shoot you immediately!”

Zu Ye was forever Zu Ye—otherwise he would have died eighteen times over. He closed his eyes slightly, muttering words. After a while he calmly said: “The Bureau Chief was born in this family but raised in that family.”

That Bureau Chief was startled: “What do you mean?”

Zu Ye said: “Those who raised you weren’t your biological parents.”

That Bureau Chief said: “You… keep divining.”

Zu Ye said: “South of your family’s old residence there should be a river, or there’s a pond. Otherwise the Bureau Chief couldn’t possibly be an official.”

That Bureau Chief was silent for a moment: “Continue.”

Zu Ye said: “If the Bureau Chief doesn’t say right or wrong, I don’t dare continue.”

The Bureau Chief had already restrained his anger and said: “Right. There was a pond. Later there was a great drought, and the water has long been gone.”

Zu Ye said: “That feng shui let the Bureau Chief fully benefit. The Bureau Chief was promoted, so naturally the water was gone.”

That Bureau Chief laughed heartily.

This was the “boom” formula in the Six-Character True Formula—extreme flattery and compliments. Boom must be boomed just right, otherwise it’s blind booming. This “boom” move of Zu Ye’s was used very cleverly.

Finally Zu Ye returned whole. Arriving home, his calves were covered in sweat. He immediately summoned the Batou and announced: “The game leaked. Kui Er is dead for sure!”

A Batou said: “It’s not that serious, is it?”

Zu Ye said: “This time we offended a spy chief. Being able to return alive is great fortune. Kui Er will very soon confess us. Quickly notify the brothers—everyone jump scene!” “Jump scene” meant disband. Everyone would not associate with each other. Without orders, no one was allowed to work scenes. Everyone divided the money and all hid.

Zu Ye rushed back to the countryside overnight.

This jump scene lasted a year, until the Japanese attacked and the Nationalist front line moved back.

You must be wondering: Why could he divine accurately at the final critical moment? Zu Ye always kept a backup plan. Earlier when Kui Er provided him information, he had sent several Little Feet according to the clues Kui Er provided, traveling nearly a thousand li to find that Bureau Chief’s ancestral home. They completely recorded the terrain and topography of his old residence. Those feet also disguised themselves as chili pepper sellers, chatting with neighbors on both sides, finding out some matters about that Bureau Chief’s childhood.

Kui Er could never dream that Zu Ye would keep a backup plan. That Bureau Chief even less could imagine that to set up a game, Zu Ye would spend two months finding his old home that he’d been separated from for over twenty years.

A keen sixth sense plus always keeping a backup plan—this was the secret to Zu Ye’s undefeated decades walking the jianghu.

The “Zhafei Technique” of Pretending to Communicate with Spirits

During the period when I first entered the trade, I often pondered a question: Why would Zu Ye recruit me into the hall? I was ugly and stupid. With Zu Ye’s intelligence and discernment, he couldn’t not know this. What exactly was Zu Ye thinking?

New people just entering the trade had much knowledge to learn. There wasn’t much time for me to think about matters unrelated to fraud. Therefore, every time I spaced out, Er Batou would give me a hard slap from behind my head.

“Repeat what I just said!” Er Batou said viciously to me.

I touched my head, looking completely blank. Actually that day Er Batou was explaining knowledge about “Zhafei.” Er Batou was the hall’s Zhafei master, deeply loved by Zu Ye. He had always been proud of the multiple big Zhafei games he’d done. As his little brother, spacing out during his lecture was truly a great insult to Er Ye.

Actually, I’d already heard him brag about those things privately many times. I wasn’t like the other Little Feet who knew how to pretend. They could always widen their innocent eyes and listen to Er Batou tell stories he’d repeated many times.

In my impression, the most miraculous Zhafei game was in my second year in the trade—a game Er Batou set up for a big wealthy landlord following Zu Ye’s arrangements.

In the thirty-eighth year of the Republic, on the eve of liberation, something happened at the neighboring town’s Zhang Si Ye’s house.

Zhang Si Ye’s son had contracted lovesickness, wouldn’t eat or drink, the whole person skinny as bones. Zhang Si Ye was a descendant of bannermen. After the Xinhai Revolution, his power gradually weakened, but a starved camel is bigger than a horse—still a piece of fat meat.

The cause of the matter was this: Zhang Si Ye’s son went to South Willow Alley to solicit prostitutes. As a result, he encountered a girl called Chuntao, developed true feelings. That girl was enchanting to the extreme, severely deceived this foolish roe deer several times, then disappeared. The result—Young Master Zhang thought of her day and night, wouldn’t eat or drink. Within a few days his eyes were sunken, only a handful of bones remained.

Zu Ye took the opportunity to find informants, telling Zhang Si Ye that this was actually a fox spirit possessing him. Do some ritual ceremonies, exorcise the demon, and the lovesickness would naturally be cured.

Zhang Si Ye didn’t believe at first. But within a few days, one night after dinner Zhang Si Ye was strolling in the courtyard when he suddenly saw a black shadow dart past before his eyes. Before he could react to what was happening, another black shadow darted past. The two shadows one after another climbed straight to the wall top, running along the wall top toward the back courtyard. The weeds on the wall top rustled as they were disturbed. Now Zhang Si Ye saw clearly—they were mountain foxes. For several days after, Zhang Si Ye and his family would see mountain foxes appearing in the courtyard every night. His heart beat drums more and more. After more incitement from informants, he finally sought Zu Ye’s help. Thus, Zu Ye arranged for Er Batou to perform a ritual ceremony.

That ritual ceremony was done on a grand scale. A large altar was set up, over ten A’Bao disguised as Daoist priests chanted incantations, walking back and forth. Er Batou himself covered his head with white cloth, holding a peachwood sword drawing in the air. At midnight, paper money flew all over the sky accompanied by smoke. Er Batou like a madman circled round and round the courtyard, the sword in his hand slashing horizontally and vertically. Suddenly his forehead began bleeding. Crimson blood dyed red the white cloth on his forehead and dripped down along his nose bridge. Everyone at the scene was terrified.

After Er Batou finished, he appeared very exhausted. Zhang Si Ye asked in alarm: “Master, why are you bleeding?”

Er Batou said: “This fox was too formidable. Just now when I fought with it, it sprang onto my head and bit me. It’s fine now. I’ve already killed it. You all look for its physical body.”

Everyone searched around the courtyard for a long time but didn’t find it. Er Batou said: “No hurry, it can’t run far.” Later everyone went back.

The next day, just as dawn was breaking, a scream came from Young Master Zhang’s room. Zhang Si Ye and his family hurried over. They saw a bloody fox lying in Young Master Zhang’s bedding. Zhang Si Ye asked what happened? Young Master Zhang stammered: “This morning getting up to urinate, I felt something in the bedding. Lifting it to look…”

Zhang Si Ye pondered for a while, nodded, smiled knowingly. That Young Master Zhang also because of this fright became much more clear-headed. He also felt hungry and began eating. After several days, his complexion returned to spring, becoming healthy again.

Later, Zhang Si Ye specially prepared dozens of square ingots and several bolts of fine silk to thank Zu Ye and Er Batou, saying: “The masters truly have profound Daoist magic, rescuing all living beings.”

Actually, from beginning to end this was all a fraud. At first, Zhang Si Ye didn’t believe. Zu Ye instructed Er Batou to have people go to the back mountain to catch several mountain foxes, releasing one into Zhang Si Ye’s drainage ditch every few days. After the other party was convinced there were “fox spirits,” Er Batou was sent to perform rituals on site. That blood on the forehead was actually dog blood. The cloth wrapped around the forehead was multi-layered, with thick blood sacs sewn in the middle. Blood sacs were made by killing a pig, taking out the pig’s bladder, drying it, then cutting it into several sections, pouring dog blood in, tying with thin thread, finally sewing these blood sacs in the interlayer of white cloth. When Er Batou performed rituals, he covered the white cloth over his head. Taking advantage of people’s inattention, he fiercely knocked his own forehead. The blood sac would burst and blood would flow out. In the chaos, taking advantage of people’s unpreparedness, a Little Foot arranged in advance snuck into Young Master Zhang’s room, blew some knockout powder, stuffed the killed fox into his bedding.

This kind of method was called “Zhafei” in the trade—pretending to communicate with spirits and ghosts.

Zu Ye often said: All “yi” can be Zhafei’d. Superior men respect spirits and ghosts but keep them at a distance. Small men fear spirits and ghosts but attract them. If not having something to fear, then having something to seek. A’Bao Zhafei them, following heaven’s mandate.

The meaning is that truly superior men have no ghosts in their hearts, are open and forthright, don’t fear spirits and ghosts. Those who fear ghosts or pray to spirits and ghosts—if not because they’ve done things against their conscience, then they have requests of spirits and ghosts. A’Bao can take the opportunity to trap them. “Zhafei” methods are many—drawing ghosts with cinnabar, immortals delivering offerings, etc. Actually it’s all the props doing the work.

The Avatamsaka Sutra says: “All evil karma created in the past stems from beginningless greed, anger, and delusion.” Human nature’s weaknesses: greed, anger, delusion. Carefully observe—almost all disasters originate from these three weaknesses.

Greed is avarice. Greedy for wealth, greedy for sex, greedy for reputation, greedy for position. To achieve greedy purposes, losing one’s mind completely, daring to do anything. Corrupt officials, robbers, thieves, gambling addicts, sex fiends, treacherous merchants, literary thieves, including A’Bao—all the same. These people’s final outcomes are often very miserable.

Anger means getting angry and furious. Once the anger precept is violated, burning with rage, fundamentally unable to control oneself. Those death row inmates who killed because of momentary anger—not one doesn’t regret it. Another layer of anger’s meaning is jealousy. Once jealous hearts arise, even the best friends will trip each other up.

Delusion is infatuation. People fallen into the net of love are as if poured with soul-confusing soup, dispirited and listless. The whole person is hollowed out by feelings. In the end, some die depressed, some from love give birth to hate—either killing the other party or both dying for love together.

Once people expose these three weaknesses, A’Bao have the opportunity to make their move.