I Saw Zu Ye

There are no ghosts in this world—I know that. But Zu Ye has been dead for forty-six years, and I clearly just saw him! I was so frightened that my body swayed backward, nearly falling over. After steadying myself, the dark shadow before my eyes had vanished! Sweat broke out all over me, and my left eyelid twitched violently. An ominous premonition rapidly spread throughout my entire body.

“Left eye twitches disaster, right eye twitches wealth,” as the saying goes among common folk. But in my experience, regardless of which eye twitches, nothing good seems to come of it.

The divination method for eye twitching that the ancients left behind is quite eerie, and fortune-tellers can’t help but verify it. First, you must distinguish between the left and right eye—left is yang, right is yin. Then you must consider the hour of the twitching: whether it’s one of the four cardinal hours (zi, wu, mao, you), the four oblique hours (shen, yin, si, hai), or the four tomb hours (chen, xu, chou, wei). The mnemonic says: “Twelve hours, twelve palaces, Five Elements and Eight Trigrams hidden within. Zi, wu, mao, you bring food and drink, shen, yin, si, hai bring calamity…”

In my younger days, when I mixed with the gang at the hall, we used this method to fleece marks—we called it “Heart Divination.” Anything from eye twitching, muscle spasms, ear ringing, hot ears, itchy palms—any abnormal physiological activity could be used to predict fortune or misfortune. Some foolish marks would come running to ask about their fortune just because they sneezed a few extra times early in the morning. For these mentally unstable “number ones,” if you didn’t swindle them, you’d be letting their fathers down.

I returned to the room in a daze and looked at my watch—exactly midnight. The Qingming Festival had just passed, and it was the midnight hour. Could I really have encountered something unclean?

My wife had also been awakened by me. She fetched a wool vest and came over to drape it over my shoulders. “Still not sleeping?”

“I… I think I just saw Zu Ye… standing right outside the door,” I said vacantly.

My wife glanced toward the pitch-black window. She’d been bold since childhood and wasn’t afraid. She smiled and said, “Old man, your eyes must be playing tricks on you. Si Batou just passed away, and you’re thinking about the ‘Jiang Xiang Sect’ again…”

Hearing my wife say this, I too felt it might have been a hallucination.

“Let’s sleep,” my wife said with concern.

In the latter half of the night, wind arose—strong wind that howled like ghosts and wolves, raging wildly between city and wilderness. I curled up under the covers, vaguely feeling that something was about to happen.

Unable to sleep no matter what, I gazed at my wife’s sleeping face and couldn’t help but feel a pang of sorrow in my heart. This woman who had accompanied me through most of my life married me without complaint or regret. For decades, she has stayed by my side like this, accompanying me, from a young girl to a middle-aged woman, gradually developing white hair. We’ve both grown old—this is what they call life.

I turned on my side and stroked her hair, suddenly feeling heartbroken. My thoughts suddenly turned to death. Everyone must die eventually. Zu Ye died, Si Batou died. At my advanced age—seventy can’t guarantee the year, eighty can’t guarantee the month—who knows when I might die too. Where would I go after death? Would I be able to meet this woman again in the next life? Would I encounter the “Jiang Xiang Sect” again, meet Zu Ye again, meet that group of brothers? I held my wife tightly in my arms, my thoughts flying back to those bygone years.

After the “Cultural Revolution” began in 1966, the town started holding struggle sessions. The first person to be struggled against was an old gentleman from town, the principal of the middle school. The rebels called him a “stinking ninth category,” held a struggle session, and demanded he confess. He said there was nothing to confess. As a result, a young punk went up and slapped him twice across the face, then grabbed his hair and said, “You must confess your crimes to everyone!” The old gentleman refused to bow his head, so the punk flew into a rage, took off his shoe, and beat the old gentleman’s face with it until blood flowed freely.

This punk’s nickname was “Er Banzi” because he had studied bamboo clapper playing for a few days as a child, thus earning this nickname. Er Banzi was very bold. For a time, people in town kept discussing how ghost fires frequently appeared in the graveyard behind the mountain, and some had seen mountain foxes carrying fire balls running back and forth at dusk, making the commune members too afraid to go to the back mountain at night. This punk ended up getting a hand grenade from the militia, ran to the graveyard at night, saw that blue flames were indeed flickering faintly, cursed “Damn it!” and threw the grenade directly into the grave. With a boom, flames scattered everywhere and bones were strewn all over the ground.

At that time, people didn’t understand much about scientific knowledge. Actually, these ghost fires were phosphine gas formed when calcium phosphide in human bones reacted with the surrounding environment after burial. Many graves had fallen into disrepair, and once phosphine escaped from the earth’s crust and became exposed to the surface, it would spontaneously combust. In the night, with blue flames flickering eerily, people mistakenly thought ghosts were causing trouble.

Later, that punk extended his demonic claws toward the old gentleman’s eldest daughter, calling on everyone to struggle against the “broken shoe.” The old gentleman had three daughters and one son. The eldest daughter’s husband had died, and she later started dating a sent-down youth, so she was labeled a “broken shoe.” Being branded a “broken shoe” meant parading through the streets with two shoes threaded on a rope and hung around your neck, with a large sign on your chest bearing two words: “Broken Shoe.”

This woman was paraded through the streets for two consecutive days. Having completely lost face under everyone’s gaze, she returned home, washed the saliva and filth from her face, put on the clothes she wore when she got married, and while her parents were asleep, hanged herself in her room. By the time her family discovered her, she had long since stopped breathing, her tongue protruding grotesquely.

The old gentleman and his wife cried themselves to death and back. Actually, all hearts are made of flesh. When news of the woman’s hanging spread, the townspeople fell silent and were no longer willing to listen to Er Banzi’s agitation. The Revolutionary Committee also promptly issued a statement: Engage in verbal struggle, not physical struggle! Don’t create fatalities! But Er Banzi showed not the slightest remorse, clamoring, “Revolution must be thorough! This kind of broken shoe should have died long ago!”

The old gentleman had spent his life teaching and nurturing students, with peaches and plums filling the garden. Now he had come to such an end—it truly broke people’s hearts! On the day they buried his daughter, a thunderclap suddenly rang out from the clear sky. Dark clouds surged up from the southeast like ink, and immediately torrential rain poured down from heaven. This rain seemed to be rushing to attend the girl’s desolate funeral, and also like the girl weeping sadly in the sky.

What happened later cast an even more mysterious color over the entire incident.

Several workers who fired bricks outside the city would always see shadowy figures moving around this girl’s grave when returning from their night shifts, and they heard someone crying. This continued for several days. Later, a few bold commune members went to investigate the graveyard during the day but found nothing. Yet when night came, the shadowy figures and crying sounds would appear again.

When Er Banzi learned of this, he said angrily, “I don’t believe it! When you were alive I wasn’t afraid—now that you’re dead, what can you do to me?”

A few days later one evening, Er Banzi had just finished dinner and was about to sleep when he heard someone knocking at the door. Er Banzi asked, “Who is it?”

No one outside answered, but the banging on the door continued.

Er Banzi put on his clothes and came out to open the door. As soon as he opened the door and poked his head out, he felt something fall from above and wrap around his neck. Startled, he looked by the lamplight and saw it was a pair of red embroidered shoes! He recognized these shoes—they were the ones the girl who had been struggled against wore while alive. His face turned pale with fright as he shouted, “There’s a ghost!”

The next day, people gossiped that the shoes had been buried with the girl—many people had seen them. It must be the girl’s wronged spirit coming to find Er Banzi.

What people didn’t know was that all of this had been directed by a conscience-stricken con artist.

It was one evening about a week after the girl died. I was about to sleep when I suddenly heard faint knocking at the door. Who could it be at this late hour? I came out to open the door and saw it was the old gentleman who had been struggled against. I was startled. In that environment at the time, everyone was afraid to get close to people who had been struggled against, fearing they would bring trouble upon themselves.

I looked behind the old gentleman—no one was there—so I let him into the house.

The old gentleman sat in a chair, silent for a long while, then said, “I’ve heard you used to tell fortunes. Can you…”

My face turned pale with fright when I heard this. “Old gentleman, please don’t talk nonsense! Those were mistakes I made when I was young—I’ve already been reformed! That’s all feudal superstition! I now resolutely struggle against feudal superstition!” I thought he was trying to trap me with his words, to report me and redeem himself.

The old gentleman said trembling, “Don’t be afraid, I don’t mean anything by it. If you truly understand fortune-telling, I beg you to read my fortune and see if my whole family can get past this hurdle! I really don’t want to live anymore!” The old gentleman’s tears flowed freely.

I knew the old gentleman had reached the edge of collapse, and my answer might directly affect his life or death. I knew I didn’t truly understand fortune-telling—I only knew a bit of superficial knowledge, all learned from Zu Ye. But Zu Ye had said, “The human heart cannot die. When the heart dies, you’re no longer human.”

After a long while, I said, “Old gentleman, I’ll trust you. If you sell me out tomorrow, I’ll accept it! I understand a bit of the Book of Changes and can give you a rough reading.”

The old gentleman reported his eight characters. I thought for a moment and said, “These past few years you’ve had terrible luck, encountering calamity stars and robbery stars. But after these few years pass, things will improve. I can tell you responsibly that you, sir, have an excellent fate, and your children will rise to great heights! You will definitely enjoy your twilight years in peace!” This was actually a “flattery” technique, previously used to deceive people, now used to save a life. I wanted to give him hope for living, to let him live on strongly.

The old gentleman raised his head, half-believing, “There’s still a day when things will turn around?”

I said firmly, “Yes! Absolutely yes!”

The old gentleman relaxed and said, “I don’t dare hope to rise to great heights—as long as I can remove the label of counter-revolutionary from my head, I can die with my eyes closed!”

Just as we were talking, banging sounds came from outside. Startled, I stood up, and the old gentleman trembled with fear.

I walked quietly to the door and asked softly, “Who is it?”

No one answered. I opened the door, and a figure immediately flashed inside. I saw it was the old gentleman’s youngest daughter, Zhang Yingying.

The old gentleman said angrily, “Why did you come? Didn’t I tell you all to stay home properly? You have no ladylike manner!”

Zhang Yingying was the town’s famous fiery woman with a personality like a boy’s. After her eldest sister hanged herself, she had grabbed a kitchen knife to go fight Er Banzi to the death but was forcibly restrained by family members.

Zhang Yingying said to the old gentleman, “I was worried about you!”

The old gentleman said, “Mr. Liu said our whole family can survive this tribulation. If we endure a bit longer, things will get better.”

Zhang Yingying said dismissively, “Dad, at a time like this, you still believe in this! Be careful—if people find out, your crime will be compounded!”

I smiled helplessly, thinking: How can you appreciate what your father is going through! Looking at this headstrong girl, I suddenly felt a trace of fondness for her.

The old gentleman said, “Stop talking nonsense!”

Zhang Yingying said, “I’m not talking nonsense! I’ve thought it through long ago! At worst, we’ll all die together! Sooner or later I’m going to avenge my eldest sister!”

The old gentleman flew into a rage, “Get out!”

Zhang Yingying cried, “When I think of eldest sister, my heart aches!”

The old gentleman’s tears also fell.

I thought for a moment and said, “Don’t think about revenge—it will only make things worse! Actually, everyone in town knows your eldest sister died wrongly. How about this—I’ll come up with a plan to teach that bastard a lesson. But you must keep it absolutely secret, otherwise I’m finished too!”

So I picked up the “flying spirits” technique I hadn’t used in over ten years. I thought: Er Banzi, you’re not afraid of heaven or earth? This time I’ll scare you half to death. I first made a paper figure, propped it up with sorghum stalks, and inserted two sections of bamboo tube at the joints. I drilled several holes in the bamboo tubes and stuck them at the girl’s grave at night. When someone rode by on the road, they would think someone was standing there. Add to that the wind blowing through the tubes making moaning sounds, and with everyone spreading rumors, they believed someone was crying there. This was called creating momentum, letting Er Banzi know the place was haunted.

Then I had Zhang Yingying bring a pair of similar embroidered shoes from home. At midnight, I rigged them with two support poles above Er Banzi’s door lintel, with a thin thread attached to small screws on both ends. I held the shoes from a distance, then knocked on the door. When Er Banzi came out to open the door and stuck his head out, I pulled the rope and the embroidered shoes fell from above onto the punk’s neck.

After this scare, Er Banzi became subdued from then on. This terrifying knot was firmly tied in his heart, and he never again acted so insanely cruel.

I never expected this incident would bring me blessings. I remember it was a summer evening. Probably because Old Mr. Zhang had seen the kindness in my heart, he quietly called me to his home and said meaningfully, “Child, you’re a good person.”

My heart trembled. A good person? I didn’t even know what kind of person I really was. After all these years, through wind and rain, ups and downs, I had become numb.

The old gentleman continued, “I know you’ve served time. But that doesn’t mean you’re a bad person. My youngest has always been arrogant and picky, and still isn’t married. If you don’t mind, if you don’t mind… I’m thinking of giving my youngest daughter…”

“What?” I doubted I had heard correctly. “Old gentleman, I… I have nothing, I’ve been in prison, I’m poor as a church mouse, you…”

After getting out of prison in 1958, I had never dared hope to marry and have children.

“I’m just asking if you’re willing?” the old gentleman pressed.

“I…” This was too sudden. I stammered, “What does your daughter think?”

“I have no objections!” Zhang Yingying lifted the curtain and walked out from the inner room. “You stood up for our whole family…”

I hastily said, “Don’t! That was nothing. If it’s because of that, there’s no need. Besides, we’re more than ten years apart in age…”

“Hey? Now you’re being picky!” Zhang Yingying said.

“That’s not what I mean, I…” I didn’t know what to say, thinking, “You know too little about me.”

After a moment of silence, I said to Zhang Yingying, “Aren’t you afraid of people saying you married a criminal?”

“Bullshit!” Zhang Yingying said angrily. “Let them say what they want!”

I knew she had long grown weary of worldly gossip. The family’s upheaval had greatly affected her.

Old Mr. Zhang said from the side, “I’m making the decision on this matter—it’s settled. Tomorrow I’ll draw a clear line with the whole family to save you from being implicated!”

During the “Cultural Revolution,” it was very common for biological fathers and sons to “draw clear lines”—it was a helpless measure, with no alternative to preserve themselves.

People often say the “wedding night” is one of life’s four great joys. On my wedding day, I cried. As a man who had drifted for half his life, I finally had somewhere to belong.

That night, holding Yingying, I asked her what exactly she saw in me. She smiled and said, “Courage.” I thought: As a con artist, you can lack anything except courage.

Six months later, Yingying’s belly swelled. I don’t know if it was heaven’s favor, but the next year Yingying actually gave birth to twins—one boy and one girl. People all said it took three generations of accumulated virtue to produce twins. I figured it was the virtue of my father, grandfather, and great-grandfather—I certainly had no virtue myself.

The children’s birth brought me unprecedented joy. I felt I was living more and more like a human being. Sometimes I even woke up laughing in my dreams. Watching the children grow day by day, when they called out “Dad” for the first time, I broke down crying. I held Yingying and the children together in my arms, afraid this was all a dream.

In 1976, the “Cultural Revolution” ended. The clouds parted and fog cleared. My father-in-law was rehabilitated, and my eldest sister-in-law could smile in her grave.

That New Year’s Eve, our whole family gathered around the dining table and cried our hearts out. After crying for a long time, my father-in-law said, “People, in this lifetime, don’t aim for wealth and honor—safety is enough. Safety is true fortune.”

## Exposing Street Scams

In the 1980s, the Chinese land was full of vitality. Our town became a prefecture-level city. My father-in-law honorably retired, my second sister-in-law became the local Cultural Bureau director, my wife pursued several years of further study and then worked at the Education Committee. As for me, I formally took up the Book of Changes. My father-in-law introduced me to a senior scholar of Chinese classics for study. My wife said, “Since you love this so much, study it with all your heart.”

My wife understood my heart. She knew I couldn’t forget the past. All these years, every time I woke from nightmares, she held me tightly and told me, “Don’t be afraid, don’t be afraid.”

I deeply knew I was heavily sinful. I used to deceive people under the banner of fortune-telling. Now I wanted to sit down and research what exactly the Book of Changes was. If the principles of the Changes could truly change people’s lives, I was willing to use it to benefit people for the rest of my life.

One afternoon, I was strolling alone at the book market, looking for some books on the Book of Changes. While browsing, I heard someone call out, “Wu Ye!”

My heart skipped a beat. For decades, no one had called me “Wu Ye.” I turned around and saw a man in his forties standing before me.

“You are…?” I asked blankly.

“Wu Ye, you don’t recognize me? I’m Zei Mao!”

“Zei Mao?” My brain raced. I slapped my forehead—oh, I remembered! He was a brother from the old gang! He was a small-time operative under Er Batou. Because he was agile, all the tree-climbing and roof-scaling jobs were his, so everyone called him Zei Mao.

I punched him playfully and laughed, “Kid, you’ve grown so big! Haven’t seen you in so many years—you’ve changed completely!”

He scratched his head, grinning, “Of course! Back in the gang days I was only a teenager.”

I was filled with mixed emotions. “Yes, decades have passed in a flash. How have these years been? What are you doing now?”

Zei Mao’s face reddened. “After Zu Ye died and you bosses all went in, I was reformed for a while then released. After that I went back to the countryside to farm with my father. What about you, Wu Ye? What are you doing now?”

I sighed and said, “Me? I’m devoted to studying the Book of Changes. Listen carefully—the Book of Changes, not fraud techniques.”

Zei Mao laughed, “All the same, all the same.”

My face darkened. “What do you mean all the same! Not the same!”

Zei Mao quickly said, “Not the same, not the same. Whatever you say, Wu Ye.”

I said, “What are you doing now?”

Zei Mao smirked, “Wu Ye, I’ve really made it big now.”

“Made it big?” I was puzzled.

Zei Mao said, “You know there’s a Taoist temple on Yuejia Ridge, right? During the ‘Cultural Revolution’ the main gates were smashed. Now it’s been renovated, and I’m working there as a Taoist priest. The money comes faster than when we were with Zu Ye!”

I asked in surprise, “You became a monk?”

Zei Mao said, “No! I just work there. During the day I put on the Taoist robe and I’m a priest. At night I go home to my wife and warm bed just like normal. It’s just playing dress-up. There are really a lot of people seeking fortune-telling. Between flattery and threats, I handle everything.”

I understood. “Still conning people?”

Zei Mao said, “What else can I do? There’s another buddy, also in the same line. The two of us run this temple. Once, a big boss came for fortune-telling. We fleeced him for 2,000 yuan in one go, and that fool kept saying thank you, priest. Another time, a woman came to draw lots, saying she often had nightmares. I took the opportunity to work some ‘flying spirits’ on her. She didn’t understand it at all and was completely confused by me. I told her there were unclean things in her home causing trouble. After going back and forth, she ended up in bed with me. Afterward she said that borrowing the power of the dharma master, she truly stopped having nightmares.”

I fell silent, thinking: This kid is beyond saving.

I remembered what that senior scholar had said: “Committing adultery within the sacred grounds will surely lead to the Avici Hell.” Zei Mao, deceiving people for money and sex under the guise of a religious figure, would not have a good end.

Seeing me silent, Zei Mao’s eyes rolled and he said, “How about it, Wu Ye? Tempted? You can join too. You can be the boss, and I’ll still listen to you. Times have changed, but rank can’t change.”

I smiled. “I’ve retired from the world.”

Zei Mao said, “That’s fine too. Wu Ye, if you need anything, just tell me. Whatever I can do, I’ll definitely do it.”

I said, “Good. I hope the brothers are all well.” I knew he didn’t understand what I meant by this. He hadn’t awakened yet.

Sure enough, the next year, the newspaper reported a criminal case that occurred at that very temple. Two fake Taoist priests had an uneven split of loot, and one killed the other and dismembered the body, throwing the head into the toilet. It was summer, and the cesspit was full of maggots. By the time police discovered it, the flesh on the skull had been eaten clean by maggots, leaving only a pale white skull with a few strands of hair stuck to it.

I thought, whether Zei Mao was the victim or the killer, his life’s path had reached its end.

On the fifteenth of the seventh month, Ghost Festival, I specially went to that temple to burn incense. For Zei Mao, because he had always been respectful toward me.

Zei Mao’s death left me feeling very uncomfortable. Once a person enters an evil path, it’s very difficult to find themselves again. I thought again of what Zu Ye often said: “The greedy will surely be poor—the gentleman considers this a great warning.” This applies to ordinary people, but even more so to con artists.

I knew there were still many con artists of all sizes in this world, still deceiving, still being greedy. I didn’t know if with my own meager strength I could save some people, at least save those brothers of mine.

In 1984, my father-in-law was hospitalized with a cerebral hemorrhage. Later his condition worsened and he fell into a coma. I remember at the time there was no equipment for head cooling, so my wife and I went to the ice cream factory, got a big bag of ice cream bars, and piled them on my father-in-law’s head. After being in a coma for a week, one day he suddenly regained consciousness. I knew that people often have a lucid moment before death. That day, my father-in-law tightly grasped my and my wife’s hands together and said, “Tianliang, I’m leaving. You must treat Yingying well. You’re a good son-in-law—I wasn’t wrong about you.”

Looking at my white-haired father-in-law, my heart ached terribly. I’d had no father since childhood. The word “Dad” was only a fantasy in my mind. I had never tasted the feeling of paternal love until I married Yingying. For over ten years, my father-in-law had carefully cared for me, filling the void of fatherly love I lacked. Now he was leaving. With tears streaming down my face, I said to my father-in-law, “Dad, rest assured, I will definitely take good care of Yingying.”

Many people see strange visions before death. According to Buddhist theory, these are called creditors from past karma. A person who has committed too many evils will face collection before death. But my father-in-law passed away peacefully. He didn’t thrash about wildly like others, nor did he gasp his last three breaths like others. He died very peacefully.

A teacher transmits the Way, imparts knowledge, and resolves doubts. My father-in-law achieved this. He had been a teacher his whole life, ordinary and plain, yet great.

After my father-in-law passed, I loved my wife even more. I often thought of those “Cultural Revolution” years, remembering my father-in-law’s anxiety and my wife’s forthrightness. People are fortunate to have memories. Those old events can always make your heart surge with emotion, and afterward you feel deeply fortunate.

A rooster’s crow brought me back from my reminiscences to reality. Day had broken, and I hadn’t closed my eyes all night. My wife also got up. Looking at her, I couldn’t help but hold her in my arms. “Yingying, you’re so wonderful.”

My white-haired wife laughed. “What’s all this about? I’ll make breakfast. You sleep a bit more.”

My wife made breakfast. I ate a few bites simply, then with a belly full of worries, hands clasped behind my back, I strolled onto the street. Zu Ye’s figure began swaying in my mind again. A cold breeze struck, and I tightened my collar.

Near People’s Park, I saw a crowd gathered by the street. Walking closer, I saw two young people dressed as monks had set up a fortune-telling stall on the ground.

Looking at the eager expressions of the surrounding crowd, I couldn’t help but smile wryly: These types are obviously frauds! Always remember this principle: True religious devotees, whether Buddhist monks or Taoist priests, have seen through worldly matters and have pure hearts and few desires. They would never run around the streets telling fortunes. Those wearing Buddhist or Taoist garb appearing in streets and alleys telling fortunes are nothing but low-level tricks of con artists.

Although the “Jiang Xiang Sect” as a whole had perished and could never again stir up great waves in Chinese history, it had once been extremely prosperous. Its disciples were once spread throughout the country, and even today there are still some remnants causing trouble.

When I moved closer to listen carefully—good heavens! These people were using the “Double Golden Mouth” technique of the Jiang Xiang Sect’s Northern faction. Back in the day, the four great halls of East, South, West, and North each had their specialties: the Eastern faction excelled at “flying spirits,” the Southern faction excelled at “glory display,” the Western faction excelled at “feng shui formations,” and the Northern faction excelled at “Double Golden Mouth.”

Double Golden Mouth, also called “blocking from both ends,” was a fortune-telling formula summarized by Northern faction con artists over hundreds of years that hit the mark every time. These formulas were extremely dialectical—no matter who you said them to, the other person would definitely answer: “Yes!”

Let’s look at a few examples of these formulas.

“You, you have a worrying life, and you’re always working hard without getting appreciated!”

Life in this world is inherently exhausting. Whether high officials or common people, everyone is racking their brains for life. Who doesn’t worry? Moreover, seven or eight out of ten things in life don’t go as hoped. Almost everyone thinks they work hard without getting appreciated. But the marks who come for fortune-telling don’t think this way, because they haven’t considered the trick here. The con artists look at your palm, then suddenly come out with this line, and 80% of people will secretly praise: “So accurate!”

“You, you’ll have great fortune after middle age. Your old age fate is good!”

Almost no one who likes fortune-telling is seventy or eighty years old. Old people never tell fortunes because most of their life is over and they know their own fate best. Even if they do, it’s for their son or grandson. With this age gap, con artists have it easy. When young or middle-aged people come, first say things aren’t good for you recently, you’re encountering calamity stars, then tell them after age thirty-five or forty you’ll have great fortune, and by old age your fate will be especially good. This is actually “combining flattery and threat.” The person seeking their fortune definitely thinks it’s very accurate. But has he considered what kind of person seeks fortune-telling? People who think their fate is bad, who have had many disasters, will seek fortune-telling. Or people who’ve encountered big troubles, or done guilty deeds will seek fortune-telling. If a person is both wealthy and noble, has family harmony, is healthy, and has no guilty conscience, would they seek fortune-telling for fun after eating their fill? Since you’ve come for fortune-telling, you must have encountered troubling matters, which is why con artists can blurt out—”You haven’t been too good recently, encountering calamity stars” and so on.

Looking at the second half of the sentence—”your old age fate is good”—people live their whole lives hoping for a good ending. No matter how much hardship they suffer when young, as long as there’s a good outcome in the end, they haven’t lived in vain. When the fortune-seeker hears “your old age fate is good,” how could they not be happy? Little do they know that the con artist’s words require time to verify. When you’re old and look back on these words, you’ll find it was all nonsense. But by then, where will you find this fortune-teller to settle accounts? Even if you’re fortunate enough to find him, he’ll be flickering like a candle in the wind, near death—surely you won’t beat him up then?

“You have a peach blossom fate in your life—romantic entanglements never cease!”

This is a tactic con artists frequently use on handsome men and beautiful women. People are ranked in nine grades—some ugly, some attractive. Regardless of gender, as long as they’re good-looking, they’ll attract the opposite sex—this is an eternal truth! When those worried young wives come for fortune-telling and walk through the door, the con artist will ask, “What do you want to know?” “My marriage fate!” The con artists will immediately have you burn three incense sticks before the deity, then observe the incense formations, and finally tell you, “From the shape of the incense you’ve burned, I can see this is a pattern of two men competing for one woman! You’re caught in a romantic entanglement!” The young wife will be shocked: “So accurate!” Actually, if she thought about it herself—looking so beautiful, she’s bound to attract wolves. Walking through the door and telling them she wants to know about romantic marriage fate—even a fool could figure it out!

“Your child is a celestial attendant from the Queen Mother’s side.”

This statement is even more baseless, yet it has the highest “credibility.” When parents seek fortune-telling for their children, if it’s because the child’s health is poor, using this phrase is most “accurate,” because all parents think their child is different from others. The common saying goes: “Other people’s wives look better, but your own children are best.” Since they’re a celestial attendant from heaven, they must have reincarnated as a human due to some accidental reason, and their fate will naturally differ from ordinary children—frequent illness and disasters are quite normal. Actually, this is the con artist using “flattery,” invisibly elevating your child’s status. Once your psychological defenses are lowered, they immediately follow with “extortion”: “This calamity must be resolved, otherwise they’ll be taken back to heaven!” The parents will be shocked when they hear this: “Tell us, how do we resolve it!” At this point they’re completely at the con artist’s mercy.

…

For decades, I’ve consistently followed Zu Ye’s philosophy of “being a good person.” Whenever I see anyone falsely using fortune-telling to swindle money, I expose and drive them away, so in all these years, this medium-sized prefecture-level city of ours hasn’t produced any frauds. Hearing these two people’s accents were from out of town today, I prepared to teach these youngsters a lesson.

I observed carefully for a while and discovered that besides these two fake monks, there were also two shills—two women. One woman played the good cop, the other played the bad cop. One insisted on having her fortune told, while the other pulled her back saying, “Why bother with this? It’s all feudal superstition!” Finally, that woman said, “I’ll try it. If it’s not accurate, I’ll leave!”

The result was predictable—the reading was incredibly accurate! And the other woman also had her fortune told, which was also very accurate. After the two finished, they said, “Master, how much do we owe you?”

That man said, “Benefactors, we’re from the temple on Mount XX, making our pilgrimage rounds here. We monks have no use for money. Just donate some incense money—in the future this money will all be used for temple repairs, which counts as accumulating merit.”

Those two women said, “Master is truly a good person. How much should we donate?”

The other man said, “Donate more or less according to fate. There’s no fixed amount for this—it comes from your heart.” As he spoke, he took out a notebook, opened it, and handed it to those two women. “You two benefactors write it yourselves. Write however much you donate, and also write your names. Later they’ll be inscribed in the merit book.”

I couldn’t help covering my face, thinking: Grandpa used this technique decades ago, and you’re still using it. This is a setup. The names and donations in the notebook are all written by themselves, using different handwriting to imitate different people. After each name it basically says 100 yuan, 200 yuan, with some 50 yuan entries. It appears to let you write it yourself, but the amounts they’ve written are already quite large. If you take this notebook, you absolutely won’t write fifty cents or one yuan. Because everyone has pride and cares about face. With all the previous entries showing 50 yuan, 100 yuan, 200 yuan, you’d have to write at least 10 or 20 yuan no matter what. At that time, money was still quite valuable. Going out shopping with ten or twenty yuan, you couldn’t spend it all—chives were 20 cents per catty, Chinese cabbage 10 cents per catty, tomatoes at most 50 cents per catty.

I saw an old woman who, after having her fortune told, tremblingly pulled out a handkerchief from her pocket, turned her body away, and shakily opened it. Inside were all one-mao bills. She counted them—about one yuan total—and handed them all to that man. She said she couldn’t write, and asked that man to help her write it down.

Good-hearted people are always blinded by fraudsters’ tricks. I couldn’t hold back anymore. Even thieves have their code—there are rules among con artists too. Unless absolutely necessary, you cannot prey on the poor. These grandson-generation con artists before me had pushed me beyond endurance.

“Tell my fortune,” I pushed forward.

One of the men looked up at me: “Elder, are you having your own fortune told, or a family member’s?”

I said, “My own.”

He said, “What aspect do you want to know about?”

I said, “My health.”

He said, “Then please tell me your birth date and time.”

I randomly reported a set of eight characters.

That punk pretended to mutter for a while, then said, “Elder, these past two years you’ve had heavenly and earthly clashes—your health hasn’t been good.”

I laughed inwardly—after all these years, the technique hasn’t improved at all. Seeing I didn’t respond, he said again, “Uncle, you always feel your strength isn’t what it used to be, right?”

I said, “Not really. My health has been quite robust these past two years.”

He was stumped and said, “Then why did you ask me to read your health?”

I said, “Yes, being robust now doesn’t mean I’ll be robust later. I want to know when I’ll die.”

The people around all laughed. That punk’s face couldn’t hang on anymore. Sullenly he said, “Elder, fortune-telling requires sincerity. This isn’t a game.”

I said, “I’m very sincere. I want to calculate when I’ll die so I can prepare.”

Hearing this, thinking it was a case of unfilial family members, he quickly said, “Elder, from your facial features, your children’s palace is dim and dull. I calculate that your children are somewhat unfilial and often make you suffer grievances.”

I let out a sigh: “Alas.”

Thinking he’d hit the mark, he quickly followed up: “Elder, don’t be too sad. We can help you break this curse.”

I said, “Break what? My children are too filial. That’s why I want to know when I’ll die—I don’t want to burden them.”

That punk’s nose was already crooked. He exchanged a glance with the other man, who said, “Elder, your situation is rather special. Let’s talk privately for a moment.”

He pulled me to a corner where no one was around and said coldly, “You’re not here for fortune-telling.”

I said, “You’re not fortune-tellers either.”

He said, “My brother and I are on a pilgrimage here, just trying to get some travel money. How have we offended you, sir?”

I said, “Not two people—four people.”

He was stunned: “What exactly do you do?” As he spoke, his right hand reached toward his lower back.

I knew they all carried weapons—traveling con artists all do this. I said, “The ‘Strike Hard’ campaign just passed. You don’t want to go in, do you? Fraud alone is enough for several years. Add intentional assault on top of that, and you really want to die?”

He froze again, motionless. I stared at him hard. After confronting each other for a while, he smiled and clasped his fists: “Senior! Just arrived in your territory, we youngsters have been inconsiderate in our actions—please be understanding. We’ll split all the money fifty-fifty. Please don’t take offense, senior!”

I also smiled: “Only now you see I’m a senior? You really misjudged badly!”

He quickly bowed and said, “Wind son floats on the water river, fragrant mouth opens to eat the first cut. This humble one is an ’85 Small Scholar. May I ask what rank you hold, Master?”

Hearing this, I understood—it was all criminal argot. “Wind son” means horse, “fragrant mouth” means dog. Scholar and Master are ranks and seniority levels among con artists. What he meant was that their group were traveling con artists, today was their first time working this location, he was promoted to Scholar rank in 1985, and he was asking about my situation.

I said, “Bow mouth doesn’t lay eggs, flat mouth always nests. This humble one is a ’50 Top Scholar and Second Place.”

This was also argot. Bow mouth is goose, flat mouth is duck. What I meant was that I’d long since retired from the world, and I was promoted by exceptional merit to Second Place in 1950.

This announcement was extraordinary—that punk knelt down: “Master, please accept this humble one’s bow.”

Later he called those three other people over and said, “We’re not working this spot today—there’s a senior here.”

Afterward, they packed up and the five of us went to a small restaurant.

After the meeting ceremony, three rounds of drinks and five courses of food later, everyone began chatting. They were actually two married couples who had been in this trade for some years. They said the Strike Hard campaigns had been severe these past two years, making business very difficult.

I said, “If it’s difficult, stop doing it. Do something else instead.”

One of the women said, “Master, why do you say that? Didn’t you also come through this way back then?”

I said, “Yes, those times were even harder. Precisely because I walked this path, I’m urging you not to walk it anymore.”

That woman said, “Master, I’m going to say something disrespectful—please don’t take offense.”

I said, “We’re family. Speak freely.”

That woman looked at the others and said, “You had savings from those years, you had everything you needed, so you could quit. When we’re like you, Master, we’ll quit too.”

I took a sip of wine, sighed deeply, and said, “I expected you’d say this. I might as well tell you my history.” So I began telling them from 1948 when I became a con artist, talking about how I deceived people, how I set up schemes, how schemes were exposed, talking about Zu Ye’s death, the deaths of various bosses, talking about Zei Mao’s death… When I reached the sad parts, I unconsciously shed tears.

Finally I said, “You only see the happiness when con artists make money, the freedom when they spend it, but no one wants to face the con artist’s final outcome. How sorrowful, how sorrowful.”

All four people fell silent. The room became completely quiet. I believe that people are inherently good at birth. No one is born wanting to be bad. The sea of suffering is boundless, but turning back is the shore. As long as one is willing to turn back, one can reach the shore.

Suddenly, that lead man said, “Master, the Zu Ye you just mentioned—was he the Eastern faction leader who once unified the Jiang Xiang Sect?”

I said, “Yes. He was sentenced to death in 1952.”

He looked at the three others around him and they exchanged glances, seeming hesitant.

I didn’t know what he meant—it seemed he had something to say but didn’t dare.

I chuckled: “Speak freely. I’ll tell you whatever I know.”

He looked at those three people again, bowed his head in thought for a moment, then said in a low voice, “Zu Ye didn’t die!”

“What?!” My blood pressure shot up immediately.

Seeing me so shocked, he immediately turned and pulled a photograph from his bag and handed it to me. I took it and looked carefully—it was an elderly man walking with his hands clasped behind his back among autumn leaves. Looking more carefully, “Heaven!” My heart felt stabbed by a knife, my whole body trembled. Although this was a profile photo, I clearly identified: it was Zu Ye!

My whole person felt dizzy. Zu Ye had been gone so many years, and the grievances and grudges of the Jiang Xiang Sect had gradually faded in my memory. Now I was old and only wanted to die quietly with peaceful thoughts and occasional sadness. I never expected that in the waning years of the 20th century, first Si Batou said Hua Yuerong hadn’t died, and now Zu Ye, who had been closely connected to my whole life, appeared again. My Jiang Xiang Sect that I cannot sever—could it be your destiny hasn’t ended yet?

My left eye began twitching again.

I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself down. “What’s going on?”

The lead man looked around in all directions, then said in a low voice, “Dragon palace row ten sons, mill head seeks old father. Bean sprout comes out, old empty old wide none.”

My heart jumped. I understood all this argot. “Dragon palace” means water; “row ten sons” means chopsticks, here referring to rowing, taking a boat; mill head means mother, secretly referring to female leader; old father means dad, secretly referring to male leader; bean means female con artist, sprout means male con artist; old empty old wide refers to opponents, hostile forces. These sentences meant that a female leader had returned from overseas by boat to find the male leader, and to organize scattered con artists from various places to gather and re-emerge.

That person continued, “Master doesn’t know—when we go out to fleece marks, our real purpose isn’t to get money, but to find and gather brothers scattered in various corners…”

I was stunned!

Zu Ye had said: “A con artist must stay steady at all times.” I began carefully pondering this series of events. Behind complex appearances there’s always a connecting thread—I just hadn’t touched it yet. I vaguely felt all this probably related to Si Batou’s death, but regardless, if Zu Ye was truly still alive, for me that would be tremendously good news. For decades I’d dreamed of him countless times, dreamed of his fatherly smile. I suddenly thought of Hua Yuerong again. This former wife of Si Batou had always been a blurry image in my mind. I joined late—when I entered the gang, she had already been “dead” for a long time. Her story was all told by Er Batou. Just as I was thinking, my left eye twitched again, twitching until my heart was completely chaotic. I raised my hand and pressed my eyelid, but it kept twitching nonstop.

At this moment, a figure flashed outside the room. A woman walked in—tall and slender, wearing a luxurious trench coat and sunglasses, about forty years old. In the 1990s, this kind of outfit was still quite rare in our prefecture-level city.

When those four con artists saw this woman, their faces turned pale with fright. They actually fell to their knees with thuds: “We didn’t know Master was arriving…”

That woman glanced at them and said in a low voice, “Get out of here now!” Those four people immediately packed their bags and ran off like the wind.

That woman turned to me and said, “Are you Wu Ye?”

My whole body shuddered. The title “Wu Ye” was too heavy.

“You are…” I asked in confusion, my eyelids twitching even more violently.

That woman removed her sunglasses, looked at me, was silent for a moment, then stared into my eyes and said indifferently, “May I come to Wu Ye’s home to chat…”

“Uh… okay…” Another wave of dizziness washed over me.

The room was strangely quiet. My wife made tea for that woman, who slowly accepted it. All three of us were silent—no one spoke. The air was frozen.

After a long while, that woman finally spoke. Accompanying her heavy, sorrowful account, I learned who she was, learned what her relationship with the Jiang Xiang Sect was. My thoughts involuntarily flew back to those distant Jiang Xiang years. The brilliance of the 1930s, the turbulent Shanghai Bund, the young Zu Ye, the passionate Jiang Feiyan, the genius Si Batou, the ill-fated Hua Yuerong—between heaven and earth, how many heroes in that moment… When the emotional parts were told, all three of us shed tears. Zu Ye, Si Batou, Hua Yuerong—the grievances and grudges among these three were displayed completely and clearly before us for the first time…

Who Was Qiao Wumei

Back then, after Zu Ye inherited the great position of “Mu Zi Lian” through several brushes with death, he keenly observed that while the times had developed, the “flying spirits technique” had not kept pace. It had been passed down for hundreds of years with the same old content—using Kangxi-Qianlong era thinking to deceive Republican era masses was asking for a beating or death. Poverty compels change, change leads to success, success leads to longevity. Zu Ye began considering reform strategies.

At this critical juncture, the Southern faction’s “Yue Hai Tang” had an incident. The 58-year-old Southern faction leader Qiao Wumei died. This Southern Guangdong flower who had led Yue Hai Tang since the 28th year of Emperor Guangxu’s reign, experienced the transitions of Guangxu, Xuantong, and the Republic, finally completing her life’s course hastily.

Qiao Wumei was no ordinary person. Her ability to dominate Southern Guangdong for so many years was because she had formal training. Her ritual performances, her ability to summon wind and rain—these were all real skills. Her entire family were geniuses at manipulating astronomy! When young, Qiao Wumei had also thought about marrying, having children, and living peacefully, but ultimately, due to a momentary confusion, she took the wrong path and couldn’t extricate herself for life. All this originated with her grandfather—Qiao Chengren.

Qiao Chengren had been Deputy Director of the Qing Dynasty’s Astronomical Bureau. The Astronomical Bureau was ancient China’s national astronomical observatory, specifically responsible for observing celestial phenomena, calculating seasonal periods, and determining calendar laws. The Bureau had positions like Director and Deputy Director. The Director was equivalent to the national astronomical observatory director, and Deputy Director was the vice director.

During a calendar calculation process, Deputy Director Qiao made an error, causing Emperor Xianfeng to miss the best viewing moment for a lunar eclipse while touring the Mulan hunting grounds. Xianfeng didn’t consider this a major matter, but Empress Dowager Cixi took the opportunity to show her power, imprisoning Deputy Director Qiao and stripping all officials connected to this matter of their positions, reducing them to commoners.

Later it became known that this wasn’t Deputy Director Qiao’s fault, but rather Cixi had deliberately tampered with the calendar, making Xianfeng miss the date, then imprisoned Deputy Director Qiao on charges of deceiving the emperor.

Why did Cixi want to imprison Deputy Director Qiao?

Xianfeng had a weak constitution, was addicted to wine and women, and neglected state affairs, while Cixi was deeply cunning and wildly ambitious. Cixi knew well that Xianfeng’s days were numbered. At that time, internally there was the Taiping Rebellion, externally there were Anglo-French allied forces invading—the Qing empire seemed about to fall into others’ hands!

Late one night, Cixi secretly met with Deputy Director Qiao.

“Imperial Concubine Yi, please investigate clearly—this old minister’s calculations were correct. I don’t know why His Majesty missed the time?” Deputy Director Qiao still didn’t know this was Cixi’s doing.

Cixi smiled and called the guard to remove Deputy Director Qiao’s shackles.

“Deputy Director has suffered.”

Deputy Director Qiao didn’t know what Cixi meant.

After dismissing her attendants, Cixi looked at Deputy Director Qiao for a long while, then said, “Deputy Director is deeply versed in celestial phenomena and calendar laws, and must know the principle that changes in rulers are manifested by celestial signs. In your opinion, will there be a change of rulers in the next year or two?”

When Deputy Director Qiao heard this, he was so frightened he quickly knelt: “This minister dare not, dare not! Our Emperor has both civil and military achievements—the Qing empire will endure for a thousand autumns!”

Cixi smiled slightly: “I’ve heard that before Wu Zetian became emperor, heaven sent down many auspicious signs. Today, many officials at the Astronomical Bureau say that among the ten stars, the ruling star is dim while Venus shines bright. Deputy Director Qiao must have also noticed this. I hope you’ll write an essay on this matter. When the great event is settled in the future, you’ll proclaim this essay to the world to show that heaven’s mandate has been determined.”

Deputy Director Qiao’s heart jumped: Imperial Concubine Yi wants to become emperor?!

Deputy Director Qiao said, “Your Highness, since the reign of Emperor Jiaqing, my Qiao family has served as officials for three generations, enjoying the court’s stipend throughout. We handle all matters cautiously and never dare speak recklessly. This minister truly has not observed any dimming of the ruling star!”

Hearing this, Cixi smiled coldly, turned, and left.

Deputy Director Qiao knew his days were numbered. He immediately wrote a final letter. The guard deeply understood that Deputy Director Qiao was loyal and patriotic, honest and upright, and risked his life to deliver the letter to Deputy Director Qiao’s family. In the letter, Deputy Director Qiao stated frankly: “My life will soon end! My son should know your father’s loyal and righteous deed! From this time forward, Qiao family descendants must never again serve as officials at court! My son, remember this and pass it on to later generations!”

Two days later, Deputy Director Qiao committed suicide by swallowing nails.

Fourteen years later, Qiao Wumei was born. After growing up, her father showed her Deputy Director Qiao’s final letter. Only then did Qiao Wumei learn why her grandfather died, and also understand why her father wouldn’t allow her several brothers to take the civil service examinations.

After the First Sino-Japanese War, Qing government power was severely weakened. Qiao Wumei keenly perceived that the Qing Dynasty’s demise wasn’t far off. She wanted to add one more straw to this dying camel’s back. When the Qing fell, the Qiao family could be vindicated and her grandfather could smile in his grave.

In the early period of the Boxer Rebellion, Qiao Wumei secretly joined the Boxer women’s organization “Red Lantern Shining” without her father’s knowledge. The Boxers were divided into two types: official groups and wild groups. Wild groups opposed the Qing, official groups supported the Qing. Qiao Wumei joined a wild group.

Later, as the Boxer power developed and expanded, Boxer groups from around the country gradually merged. Qiao Wumei met the 45-year-old Zhang Dancheng, who was then disguised as a charlatan, serving as protector of the main altar under Zhu Hongdeng’s faction. The Boxers’ “Close Fire Divide Sand Incantation” was invented by Zhang Dancheng. The incantation went: “Disciple in the mortal world, close the gun and cannon gates. When guns and cannons all fire, sand divides to both sides.”

One can see this incantation was to defend against bullets and cannonballs. When charging into battle, once you recited this incantation, the bullets and cannonballs fired at you would decompose into sand and fall harmlessly.

This kind of statement, which seems nearly moronic now, was treated by group members at the time as a life-saving secret.

After Zhang Dancheng contacted Qiao Wumei a few times, he was surprised to discover this girl just over twenty deeply understood astronomical methods. How could he know that Qiao Wumei had formal training—her ancestors for three generations had all specialized in astronomical research! Zhang Dancheng intended to develop her as a disciple of the Jiang Xiang Sect.

Later, as the Boxers were continuously pacified by the Qing government, Qiao Wumei gradually lost faith in this organization. At this critical juncture, Zhang Dancheng perceived Qiao Wumei’s thoughts and told her his true situation. Only then did Qiao Wumei learn that behind Zhang Dancheng was a “Jiang Xiang Sect,” and moreover, it had been an organization to oppose the Qing and restore the Ming since ancient times. So the two hit it off and grew closer.

During the Boxers’ heyday, many Qing princes, beile, and young masters had altars set up in their homes for rituals. Jiang Feiyan and Zhang Dancheng used their Boxer identities as cover to freely practice deception. At that time, among the four great halls of East, South, West, and North, Zhang Dancheng was the most active. Seeing that the Southern faction Yue Hai Tang’s female con artists were gradually declining, he used political maneuvering to unite with the Northern faction’s Kang Shaohua and Western faction’s Duan Jinshan, installing Qiao Wumei on Yue Hai Tang’s leadership throne.

Later, when Zhang Dancheng and Qiao Wumei jointly set up a scheme to deceive a beile from the Qing palace, unexpectedly someone “turned traitor” in the middle. Zhang Dancheng lost a testicle, while Qiao Wumei was violated by several Qing soldiers and then force-fed large amounts of “persimmon calyx powder,” causing severe damage to her reproductive system and resulting in lifelong infertility.

Afterward, whenever this matter was mentioned, Zhang Dancheng would sigh endlessly. This was something he could never come to terms with in his entire life.

After the Qing Dynasty fell, Zhang Dancheng visited Qiao Wumei several times, but she refused to see him each time. Toward this person who had pulled her into the Jiang Xiang Sect with his own hands, Qiao Wumei didn’t know whether she felt love or hate.

As a woman, for many years beneath Qiao Wumei’s dignified exterior lay buried endless sorrow and self-abasement. Marrying a husband, bearing children, enjoying family happiness—these earthly pleasures were severed from her. She devoted all her thoughts to managing Yue Hai Tang, right up until her death.

She died of a sudden heart attack while sleeping at night. Heart disease is the hardest illness for people to guard against in this lifetime. She was fine at dinner, but after eating and going to sleep, having just slept for one hour, she suddenly felt severe chest pain and forced herself to sit up. A maid poured her a glass of water. She took a sip and immediately choked it out. This made the pain even worse. Sweat poured down like rain, soaking the bedding. She crawled out from under the covers, unable to sit or lie comfortably. The night-duty maids were terrified and hurriedly went to find Jiang Feiyan. Qiao Wumei clutched her chest while a maid held her. Finally, the pain became unbearable and she clawed at the wall, scraping off the plaster. Then she let out several screams, her body stiffened, and she died in the maid’s arms.

Perhaps people all have premonitions before death. On New Year’s Eve, Qiao Wumei accidentally broke a bowl. The ancients believed breaking things on New Year’s Eve and New Year’s Day was very inauspicious. After the spring began, she used fifty yarrow stalks with the “Great Expansion Divination Method” to cast a divination for herself, obtaining the “Negation” hexagram from the sixty-four hexagrams—a greatly inauspicious hexagram. She became even more depressed. Jiang Feiyan had even comforted her: “After extreme negation comes peace—Master will soon have a turn of fortune!” Who knew that within a few months, she would be dead.

By the time people arrived, the corpse had gradually grown cold. Jiang Feiyan immediately ordered servants to fetch burial clothes, though in her heart she knew it was already too late—burial clothes must be put on before the last breath. The ancients believed that once a person dies, the soul immediately departs the body, and putting on anything afterward is useless. Whatever a person looks like at the moment of death is how they’ll appear as a ghost in the netherworld.

Qiao Wumei, who wore gold and silver daily and enjoyed infinite glory, departed completely naked. She would wait in the cold underworld for the King of Hell’s terrifying judgment. This person who had drawn talismans and chanted spells, calmed souls and performed salvation rites for countless people, never dreamed in her wildest dreams that she would die in such an absurd manner!

Jiang Feiyan touched Qiao Wumei’s hand as tears rolled down. She had no time for grief, because an even more serious matter lay before her.

The Fish-Luring Technique

One month earlier, at the mouth of the Pearl River, on the beach.

The fishermen under the scorching sun were listless, because during that period, whether people gathering seafood at home or fishing at sea, everyone felt the fish quantity had sharply decreased with nothing much to catch.

In that era, people didn’t yet understand the effects of ocean current changes on fish. Ocean current flow can cause changes in local sea temperature and pollution levels, and fish species and quantities will change accordingly. Therefore, fishing has peak seasons and off-seasons, but that time was a major off-season. For several consecutive months, fishermen returned empty-handed each time they went to sea.

The sea breeze blew gently. Children ran on the beach. Children don’t understand adults’ worries, running and singing as they went:

Heaven tilts northwest,

Earth sinks southeast.

Don’t believe the fairy lady,

The sea will dry and rivers drain.

The fishermen opened their drowsy eyes.

“Little sister, come here. Who taught you that song?”

Before the words finished, the child pointed behind the fishermen, shaking her head. The fishermen all turned to look—it was “Huici Fairy Lady” arriving.

Qiao Wumei’s public identity in Southern Guangdong was as a lay Daoist of the Maoshan Shangqing sect, known as “Huici Fairy Lady.” Since the late Qing period, she had prayed for blessings and rain in Guangzhou and Guangxi multiple times, repeatedly with results. The Guangzhou Prefect had personally inscribed a plaque for her with the words: “Profound Daoist methods, benefiting all living beings; living beings have feelings, merit and virtue immeasurable.”

Not far from the beach stood a large banyan tree with twisting branches, flourishing luxuriantly. Slanting branches extended outward dozens of meters in all directions—the entire tree was like a small forest.

Qiao Wumei came beneath the banyan tree and hung red and yellow silk on the tree. Her attendants also placed a low incense table under the tree. Qiao Wumei burned three sticks of incense and chanted incantations.

Afterward, Qiao Wumei said to the fishermen, “This tree has been occupied by the Sea God. You have not done good deeds for so long that the Sea God is enraged and has recalled all the fish and shrimp to demonstrate heavenly might!”

The fishermen all said, “Fairy Lady, please help us.”

Qiao Wumei said, “No one can help you—only you can help yourselves. Donate money to build a Sea God Temple. Worship daily with constant incense offerings, and you can ensure peace in all four seasons.”

Having spoken, she turned and left.

The fishermen looked at the incense table beneath the banyan tree and the merit box beside it, staring blankly in silence.

At this moment, a female con artist disguised as a kind-hearted person walked over and said, “Huici Fairy Lady never speaks falsely. You’ve returned empty-handed these past few months—why not try it? I’ll donate some for everyone first.”

As she spoke, she tossed some copper coins and silver dollars into the merit box and wrote down the names of several fishermen in the merit book.

“Whoever donates will benefit. The Sea God has already recorded the names of you several people. Go to sea tomorrow at the fifth watch, and you’ll definitely catch fish,” the female con artist said.

The next day at the fifth watch, those fishermen went to sea half-believing, half-doubting.

Pushing off in their boat, sea wind hit their faces. Dim fishing lanterns flickered in and out of view. The fishermen had just traveled dozens of meters into the deep sea when they discovered a thick layer of something floating on the ocean surface, shimmering and connecting into a sheet. They suspected they were hallucinating, rubbed their eyes, and drew closer. They discovered it was all fish, all floating on the water surface, bellies up—a pale white expanse under the moonlight!

The fishermen were stunned! They quickly cast their nets, though actually there was no need to cast nets at all—they could just scoop them up directly with hand nets. At first, everyone saw the fish with their bellies up and thought they were dead fish. After scooping them up, they discovered all the fish could still thrash and move! The fishermen were overjoyed and hurriedly kowtowed toward the deep sea water.

After daybreak, the news spread and the beach exploded with excitement. Several fishermen carried baskets of fat fish along the road, grinning foolishly with happiness. The surrounding people were all dumbfounded.

Thus large numbers of fishermen began frantically donating money. Soon the merit box was full. Later several more boxes were set out, and they all filled up too.

At this time, the local security officer that Qiao Wumei had contacted came forward, saying that since the Sea God had occupied this tree, the Sea God Temple should be built beside this great tree. Thus a small temple rose from the ground beside the banyan tree.

This incident shocked all of Southern Guangdong and also attracted the leaders of “sectarian societies” from five southern provinces to come visit and seek the Way, hoping Qiao Wumei would reveal a thing or two. Qiao Wumei smiled but said nothing.

This was a secret passed down from the era of Empress Wu Zetian of the Tang Dynasty.

In 684 AD, Wu Zetian was intensively preparing to proclaim herself emperor. When the ancients wanted to undertake great deeds, they first had to create momentum to show that heaven’s mandate had arrived. Before Chen Sheng and Wu Guang’s uprising, they produced a silk book from a fish’s belly reading “Great Chu shall rise, Chen Sheng shall be king.” Before Zhang Jue’s uprising, he created the slogan “The blue heaven is dead, the yellow heaven shall rise.” Before Liu Bei proclaimed himself emperor, there was also the rumor “In the southwest there is yellow qi, standing upright for several zhang—surely a Son of Heaven will emerge from that direction.” An ingenious talent like Wu Zetian who was skilled in scheming must have understood this mystery even more deeply. So she first changed the Eastern Capital Luoyang to the Divine Capital, then invited various immortals to perform rituals and create auspicious signs. The feng shui master Li Chunfeng, to please Wu Zetian, specifically performed a certain ritual in the peony pool where Wu Zetian bathed. When Wu Zetian undressed to bathe and her jade feet just stepped into the peony pool, fish from all around swam over, surrounding Wu Zetian’s feet like a hundred birds paying homage to the phoenix, shocking the palace maids who cried out, “Auspicious omen! Auspicious omen!”

This ritual technique was transmitted from the Magadha Kingdom in central India during the Xianqing years of the Tang Dynasty. This method could mysteriously gather fish from a radius of dozens of sea miles together. The ancient texts record it as follows:

“Five green-shelled eggs, soak in the cesspool for seven days. Three liang of ram meat, one ladle of refined flour, musk flower, wild star anise, fennel each two qian, mix and pound into paste, mix with two liang of ram oil. At the zi hour, scatter into the water and recite the incantation, then fish and shrimp within thirty li will all come to your feet.”

Green-shelled eggs are a type of chicken egg with greenish skin, only producible by a type of black-boned chicken from Hubei and India.

“Soak in the cesspool for seven days”—cesspool is ancient language for latrine. That is, place the green-shelled eggs laid by black-boned chickens into the cesspit and soak for a full seven days and nights.

Ram meat is mutton. Take three liang of mutton and one ladle of flour, then take two liang each of musk flower and other Chinese medicinal herbs. After mixing these things together, pound them into paste, mix with some mutton fat, and at midnight during the zi hour, scatter these paste-like substances in the water and recite the matching incantation. When fish smell the fishy stench, they’ll all rush over.

To execute this great fish-luring scheme, Qiao Wumei racked her brains making inquiries in many directions about “flying spirits” methods. Finally, she spent a fortune to obtain this fish-luring technique from a witch doctor on the Yunnan border.

The cleverness of con artists lies in being able to draw inferences from one instance. After multiple experiments, Qiao Wumei improved this method by adding “Sleep Saint Powder” (equivalent to modern sleeping pills) to the various ingredients. After the fish ate this paste, they became intoxicated, bellies flipped up, floating on the water surface for anyone to catch!

Afterward, Qiao Wumei faced the sea and laughed loudly: “Among all things in heaven and earth, I alone reign supreme! On the vast earth, I master the tides!”

Looking at it now, this was a very ecologically destructive fishing method. After the founding of New China, in the 1980s, fishery management departments along the coast and rivers resolutely banned this cruel fishing method.

According to convention, before executing this scheme, things had been made clear with the local gang—they would get thirty percent of the profits. Unexpectedly, just as Qiao Wumei was celebrating the scheme’s success, someone came to report that the other side was demanding an additional twenty percent and warning Qiao Wumei not to execute this kind of major scheme that disrupted their operations again.

When Qiao Wumei heard this, fury surged upward: “Give them an inch and they take a mile—daring to make trouble on this old lady’s turf!” Qiao Wumei dared to clash head-on because she had some solid personal connections in the Military Affairs Commission Investigation Section (the predecessor of the Bureau of Investigation and Statistics).

The opposing gang leader was also a woman, known in the martial world as Tian Ersao. She had come to Southern Guangdong a year ago, claiming to be a direct descendant of the Green and Red Gang. Southern Guangdong had many factions. After Tian Ersao arrived, she distributed large amounts of gold and silver to organize a gang and incredibly established a firm foothold within just one year!

The sea areas where fishermen caught fish were controlled by gangs. When fishermen went to sea or gathered seafood on the shore, they had to pay a cut. Sometimes they went out for several days and couldn’t catch much fish, yet still had to pay protection fees when they returned. The fishermen dared to be angry but not speak out.

As a result, with Qiao Wumei’s recent disruption, the gang’s status in the fishermen’s hearts had greatly diminished. The fishermen felt they could just seek out Qiao Wumei when needed—she was a living immortal, while the gangs were bloodsucking parasites who took without contributing. Therefore, when gangs later went to collect protection fees, many fishermen refused to cooperate, holding fish spears ready to fight to the death with the gang. So Tian Ersao wasn’t having it and came to settle accounts with Qiao Wumei.

When the Two Impermanence Demons arrive, life and death are decided in an instant. The two gangs remained deadlocked for a period of time. Unexpectedly, Qiao Wumei had a sudden heart attack and died.

There are two things in life one cannot control: birth and death. Those skilled in scheming calculate every day, exhausting their mental and physical energy. Their hearts carry excessive loads, and who knows which day they’ll be finished. When Qiao Wumei triumphantly shouted “On the vast earth, I master the tides,” she wouldn’t have thought that the King of Hell stood right behind her.

The Troublemaker at the Funeral

Qiao Wumei died too suddenly. She had emphasized many times while alive that if something happened to her one day, her eldest disciple Jiang Feiyan should succeed her at the hall.

Jiang Feiyan hastily assumed the position, then ordered news to be tightly sealed and quickly dispatched people to deliver death notices to the three great halls of East, North, and West. This was the Jiang Xiang Sect’s rule—when a sect leader died, the other halls all had to attend the mourning.

In ancient times, transportation was inconvenient. Messengers traveling by boat and horse sometimes had to spend over a month to deliver death notices to other sect leaders. If they waited with the corpse for people to arrive, the body would decay and stink. Therefore, after Jiang Xiang Sect leaders died, they had to be immediately cremated, leaving only ashes. There were two sources of cremation in Chinese history: one was Buddhism, the other was the Jiang Xiang Sect.

Jiang Feiyan didn’t dare openly cremate someone in the courtyard. If Tian Ersao learned that Qiao Wumei had died, she would definitely come cause trouble. Moreover, Yue Hai Tang had dominated Southern Guangdong for so many years, making quite a few enemies. If Tian Ersao rallied them and all the enemies took the opportunity to cause trouble, that would be even more problematic.

She thought of a method. Under the pretext of holding a blessing ritual, she had her operatives make a big show of setting up stages around the hall to create momentum. Late at night, she and several bosses wrapped Qiao Wumei’s corpse in silk and transported it out the back door, quietly hauled it to the docks, and boarded a boat already arranged. They left the Pearl River estuary, circled to the Daya Bay side, found a desolate mountain valley, and hastily cremated Qiao Wumei. The next day before dawn, carrying the ashes, they quietly returned to the hall.

During that period, the Battle of Shanghai had just ended. Zu Ye had just completed the corpse-driving scheme of smuggling opium with the “special merchant” Jia Siye and had only been back at the hall a few days when he received the death notice from Jiang Feiyan. He hurriedly brought several bosses and rushed to Southern Guangdong.

When he arrived at Yue Hai Tang, it had already been half a month since Qiao Wumei’s death. Soon, people from the Northern and Western factions also arrived. Only then did they prepare to hold the funeral.

Jiang Feiyan said, “These days I’ve been on edge. Tian Ersao’s side keeps making trouble. I gave them silver, but they still won’t accept the gesture. I estimate they already know Fifth Mother has died.”

Tian Ersao indeed felt something wasn’t quite right. She had originally only wanted to dampen Qiao Wumei’s momentum. Qiao Wumei had been entrenched in Guangzhou for a long time, while she had only been in Guangzhou for a few years and fundamentally couldn’t compete with Qiao Wumei. This time, out of desperation, she had steeled herself to push back. Unexpectedly, after remaining deadlocked for a period of time, Qiao Wumei’s side had gone silent. It was all her disciple Jiang Feiyan coming forward to negotiate, and moreover, she obediently sent the silver over. Tian Ersao’s intuition told her: Something major has happened to Qiao Wumei!

Later a spy came to report: Qiao Wumei is dead! When Tian Ersao heard, she was overjoyed. This was an excellent opportunity—she wanted to seize the chance to eliminate Yue Hai Tang in one stroke and trample Southern Guangdong!

Thus, on the day of Qiao Wumei’s funeral, she gathered over two hundred people to surround Yue Hai Tang, deliberately provoking trouble, trying to instigate a bloody battle.

Jiang Feiyan said sorrowfully to Zu Ye, “No matter what, we must let Fifth Mother be buried peacefully! She labored her whole life and suffered endless hardship. After death, even her cremation had to be done in hiding. Now for her burial, the other side presses us relentlessly. Fifth Mother’s fate is bitter!”

After hearing this, Zu Ye also felt deeply desolate. He sighed and said, “The other side came prepared. If we insist on carrying the coffin out by force, we’ll fall right into their trap. At that time, with chaotic fighting everywhere, the losses will still be ours. What’s the background of this Tian Ersao? Who’s backing her up?”

Jiang Feiyan said, “This person suddenly came to Southern Guangdong a year ago, claiming to be from Jianghuai and saying she has connections with the Green and Red Gang.”

When Zu Ye heard this, he felt this matter might have a solution: “Sister Yan, don’t panic. I’ll go meet with her.”

Jiang Feiyan said, “You mustn’t! Going alone, if something happens…”

Zu Ye smiled and said, “Sister Yan, rest assured. It’s not yet time to fight to the death.”

Following Jiang Feiyan’s directions, Zu Ye took Er Batou, bypassed several alleyways, and arrived at Tian Ersao’s hall.

Several guards at the entrance stopped Zu Ye. At that time, Zu Ye was about thirty years old, tall, in his prime—clearly no ordinary person. Though those few people at the entrance wouldn’t let him in, they didn’t dare slight him either, politely asking all along, “Sir, where are you from? What business do you have?”

Zu Ye said, “I’m Tian Ersao’s friend. I have important matters to discuss—don’t delay things!”

One person quickly went inside to report, saying someone from the underworld calling himself “Zu Ye” wanted to see Ersao.

Tian Ersao didn’t know who Zu Ye was, but hearing he was from the underworld, she might as well meet him.

After entering the room, Zu Ye saw that this Tian Ersao was only in her early thirties, with willow-leaf eyebrows, phoenix eyes, black hair coiled in back, cold sharp gaze, naturally possessing an air of worldly sophistication—heroic and spirited, no less than a man.

Zu Ye thought to himself: This is no ordinary person! He hurriedly performed a salute, saying, “I pay my respects to Ersao.”

Tian Ersao didn’t recognize Zu Ye. She looked him up and down and asked, “You are…?”

Zu Ye said, “I am under Jiu Ye’s command. People in the martial world honor me by calling me Zu Ye. Today I’ve come especially to pay a visit to Ersao.”

When Tian Ersao heard this, she couldn’t help but shudder. She didn’t know who Zu Ye was, but the name Jiu Ye was too renowned—no Chinese or Japanese person didn’t know it. That was Wang Yaqiao, who assassinated the Japanese Army General Shirakawa Yoshinori in Shanghai!

Zu Ye deliberately said he was under Wang Yaqiao’s command to test this person’s background using Jiu Ye’s name. If this Tian Ersao was truly from the Green and Red Gang, she would certainly know Jiu Ye and would be very respectful. Back then, Jiu Ye’s hundred axes chopped their way across Shanghai Bund. Known as “the barefoot aren’t afraid of the shod,” even the Green and Red Gang leaders Huang Jinrong and Du Yuesheng yielded three parts to him, let alone this Tian Ersao!

Tian Ersao hesitated and said, “Zu Ye says he’s under Jiu Ye’s command…”

Seeing her doubts, Zu Ye quickly took out a folding fan from his sleeve: “Please look, Ersao. This is a folding fan with Jiu Ye’s personal inscription.”

In the eleventh year of the Republic, when Zhang Dancheng was on his deathbed, he requested that Wang Yaqiao help support Zu Ye. But Wang Yaqiao couldn’t accompany Zu Ye every day, so he gave Zu Ye a folding fan with his personal inscription: “Courage and Righteousness,” signed with his own name, saying, “If people in the underworld give you trouble in the future, you can give them this fan—it might be useful.”

Over the years, every time Zu Ye traveled, he kept this fan hidden in his sleeve for emergencies.

Tian Ersao opened the white paper fan. Wang Yaqiao’s vigorous calligraphy leaped onto the paper. Tian Ersao’s eyebrows trembled slightly, and a trace of strange smile appeared at the corners of her mouth. Zu Ye felt a chill—this cold, alluring smile revealed a murderous aura.

Zu Ye said, “I came to Southern Guangdong this time on Jiu Ye’s orders to pay condolences to Fifth Mother Qiao. Just now at the hall, I saw many people provoking trouble. Upon inquiry, I learned they were under Ersao’s command. This isn’t right—we’re all people of the same path. Fifth Mother had much friendship with Jiu Ye while alive. I don’t know why Ersao is conducting this hostile action?”

When Tian Ersao heard this, she understood. Immediately she said coldly, “When Qiao Wumei was alive, her schemes were too excessive, making it impossible for us to operate.”

Zu Ye said, “We’re all people of the same path. Grievances should be resolved, not created. Why not give Jiu Ye face and let them go?”

Tian Ersao’s eyebrows furrowed. She replied perfunctorily, “What Zu Ye says is quite right, but I’ve already issued orders and the brothers have all mobilized. Everyone hates Qiao Wumei to the bone. I’m the leader of a hall—if I call it off now, how can I explain to the brothers!”

Zu Ye smiled and said, “No need to call it off. I have a plan that can both resolve this crisis and not lose Ersao’s face before the brothers!”

Zu Ye leaned forward and whispered. Tian Ersao listened while nodding.

Thus, according to Zu Ye’s arrangement, Tian Ersao, Zu Ye, and Er Batou left the door, got into rickshaws, and went to a teahouse. Before leaving, Tian Ersao said to her subordinate brothers, “Watch the hall well. Zu Ye and I have important matters to discuss.”

A subordinate asked, “Where are you going? Should we bring a few brothers?”

Tian Ersao said, “No need to worry.”

The three of them went around and around until they reached a teahouse. They found a secluded corner, sat down, and ordered tea. After three rounds of tea, Zu Ye instructed Er Batou to go to Yue Hai Tang.

At this time, Jiang Feiyan at Yue Hai Tang was waiting anxiously. Suddenly seeing Er Batou running back, she hurriedly asked, “How is the situation? Where’s Zu Ye?”

Er Batou ran until he was covered in sweat. He wiped his forehead, handed a jade pendant and a letter to Jiang Feiyan, and whispered a few sentences in her ear.

Jiang Feiyan looked at Er Batou with confusion.

Er Batou said breathlessly, “Don’t… don’t worry. Zu Ye has arranged everything properly.”

Besieging Wei to Rescue Zhao

Jiang Feiyan moved her graceful figure and walked out. She was already a person of stunning beauty. Now dressed in mourning clothes with tears in her eyes, she added several traces of sorrowful beauty.

Jiang Feiyan faced the over two hundred thugs at the entrance and asked, “Which one is the leader?”

A punk carrying a gun walked over: “Sister Feiyan, what are your orders?”

Jiang Feiyan said, “Come forward to speak.”

That punk tilted his hat brim with his gun and looked at the surrounding brothers, feeling somewhat uncertain. Jiang Feiyan was a person with a very strong presence—noble, elegant, generous, and poised. The physiognomy book says: “Those of lowly and base character find it hard to look upon noble and elegant people. Seeing them, they feel ashamed of their own inferiority and wretchedness spontaneously arises.”

This means people are different from one another. Noble people possess a powerful presence, while base people reveal their wretchedness completely. When wretchedness meets great elegance, shame immediately arises. Therefore, the ancients admonished people that if your presence is insufficient, don’t go to wealthy and noble occasions to meet wealthy and noble people—that will only make you appear even more wretched and inferior.

Before Jiang Feiyan, that punk appeared very wretched.

Jiang Feiyan said in a low voice, “You take your brothers and get lost right now! Otherwise Tian Ersao’s head will immediately relocate!”

That punk was stunned, then burst into loud laughter, blinking his lecherous little eyes and saying, “Sister Feiyan, did I hear wrong, or did you speak wrong? The one losing their life today is probably you!”

Jiang Feiyan smiled coldly and said, “Look at what this is.” As she spoke, she handed the letter and jade pendant to that punk.

That punk took them and looked—he was so frightened he stumbled back two steps, his face turning green. This jade pendant was exactly what Tian Ersao wore on her wrist daily, carved from Hetian seed jade, with dragons and phoenixes dancing together, bright and lustrous. All the brothers recognized it!

“How did it end up in her hands? Could Ersao’s hand have been chopped off?” That punk’s heart was pounding. Underworld people’s way of thinking is different from normal people. Looking again at that letter paper, it clearly displayed Tian Ersao’s handwriting: “Do not act rashly!” “Bad news—Ersao’s been kidnapped!” the punk thought.

Thinking this, that punk’s face revealed terror: “You…”

Jiang Feiyan said, “We’re holding the funeral now. If you dare cause trouble, Tian Ersao will definitely die!”

That punk didn’t know what to do. Without receiving orders, he didn’t dare withdraw either. He quickly called over a thug and had him return to the hall to see if Tian Ersao was still there. He himself led the brothers to stay here, not daring to advance or retreat.

Jiang Feiyan transmitted orders to the hall: Hold the funeral!

Jiang Feiyan and several bosses carried mourning banners walking in front. The operatives carried the coffin slowly walking out from the main gate. Those two hundred-some gang members lined up in two rows, watching coldly but not daring to act rashly.

The funeral procession passed through several streets and arrived at the burial ground, where they buried Qiao Wumei with great ceremony. A generation’s female hero thus rested eternally.

During this time, that lead punk also received news that Tian Ersao indeed was not at the hall. Thus, he could only watch helplessly as Qiao Wumei was buried.

After the funeral ended, Jiang Feiyan said to that lead punk, “Take the things back. Tian Ersao has also safely returned home.”

That punk had already been thoroughly confused. Cursing all the way, he led his subordinates back. Upon reaching the hall and looking, Tian Ersao had indeed returned. He hurriedly asked what happened.

Tian Ersao feigned a worried expression: “People came from Wang Yaqiao’s side and set up a Hongmen Feast, saying they were inviting me for tea to discuss important matters, but it was besieging Wei to rescue Zhao. Qiao Wumei and Wang Yaqiao’s relationship is not ordinary. This matter requires long-term planning. Without my orders, no one should act rashly!” Actually, Tian Ersao understood in her heart—she had her own scheme.

While drinking tea at the teahouse, Tian Ersao had repeatedly inquired of Zu Ye about Wang Yaqiao’s information, saying, “Jiu Ye has a heroic character and tender heart. I’ve long heard his name but never met him. I hope Zu Ye will introduce us.”

Zu Ye nodded in agreement: “The situation is too tense recently. After some time, I’ll take Ersao to visit Jiu Ye’s residence!”

How could Tian Ersao know Zu Ye was lying? Zu Ye had no idea where Wang Yaqiao was. During that period, after Wang Yaqiao bombed Shirakawa Yoshinori to death, he went into hiding. In this kind of situation, generally they would wait until the situation calmed down, then Wang Yaqiao would contact Zu Ye through a single line of communication. Zu Ye was just waiting for news. Zu Ye only wanted to stall Tian Ersao. After Qiao Wumei was buried, everything would be fine.

Not long after, the Nationalist Party’s “Revival Society” internally organized the “Blue Shirts Society.” Blue Shirts Society agents intercepted radio signals sent by Japanese agents in Guangzhou and immediately raided the spy den. After newspapers published the news, the whole world was shocked. It turned out this so-called Tian Ersao was actually a spy planted in Guangzhou by the Japanese military. Her real name was Nishida Yoshiko, directly under the Japanese right-wing leader Kodama Yoshio.

Kodama Yoshio was the founding father of Japanese espionage during World War II. Early on, he joined Japan’s right-wing organization “Nation-Building Society,” later infiltrated China, and while operating in the Northeast, carefully cultivated large numbers of spies who infiltrated Shanghai, Guangzhou, and other places, establishing a three-point, one-line spy communication system. Nishida Yoshiko was one chess piece he had placed. The newspapers reported that after Nishida Yoshiko’s identity was exposed, she committed suicide by bullet.

Only then did Zu Ye suddenly understand. No wonder when he initially mentioned Wang Yaqiao’s name, the other side immediately stopped attacking Yue Hai Tang and repeatedly inquired about Wang Yaqiao’s information. After Shirakawa Yoshinori was bombed to death, the Japanese had frantically pursued Wang Yaqiao. As a core spy, Nishida Yoshiko naturally bore inescapable responsibility, but Wang Yaqiao had vanished from the human world like a ghost. Unexpectedly, a Zu Ye suddenly appeared, even possessing a white paper fan with Wang Yaqiao’s personal inscription. This made Nishida Yoshiko overjoyed. Compared to tracking down Wang Yaqiao, Qiao Wumei’s matter was as small as a sesame seed.

Thinking of all this, Zu Ye broke out in a cold sweat! What Zu Ye couldn’t have imagined was that from this point on, he had entered the Japanese people’s sights…

Master of the Flying Spirits Technique

This Southern Guangdong journey was filled with danger but no mishaps. Zu Ye felt an additional trace of melancholy. Qiao Wumei truly deserved to be the leader of Yue Hai Tang—she could even obtain this kind of fish-luring magic, innovate techniques, use deception at the right time, and make a huge haul. The Eastern faction had always been renowned for superior “flying spirits” methods, but in the years Zu Ye managed the hall, he had never executed any major “flying spirits” schemes. He always felt the “flying spirits techniques” in the Secret Book of Flying Spirits were somewhat outdated. Without absolute certainty, he didn’t dare execute major schemes.

At this critical juncture, the baton of fate drew Si Batou onto the stage.

Si Batou was born in the fifth year of the Republic, surnamed Zhang, given name Zizhan, from Baoding in Zhili. At age five his mother died, and later the whole family moved to Jianghuai.

Zhang Zizhan loved Daoist studies from childhood and was passionate about alchemy. After the enlightenment thinker Yan Fu translated the British scholar Huxley’s Evolution and Ethics into Chinese, Zhang Zizhan learned of Darwin’s theory of evolution and developed a strong interest in species studies and biological evolution. For this, he specifically crouched under a mule’s rear end to observe the differences between horse mules and donkey mules. As a result, the mule kicked him in the forehead, leaving an eternal scar.

Zhang Zizhan was naturally intelligent. Much knowledge he understood at a glance and learned immediately. By fifteen, his name spread throughout the foreign settlements. At that time, the Battle of Shanghai was ongoing. Zhang Zizhan’s eldest and second brothers were both military men. During the Battle of Shanghai, his eldest brother died on the battlefield, while his second brother survived by luck. After the war, bearing national and family hatred, Zhang Zizhan published “Comparison of Enemy and Our Weapons and Current State of Westernization Reform” in a newspaper. Through analysis of the Battle of Shanghai’s failure, he summarized the reasons and lessons of China’s lagging technological development since the Self-Strengthening Movement.

Heroes emerge young. The teenaged Zhang Zizhan could actually write such a meticulously reasoned article—eloquent and magnificent in scope. The text directly pointed out China’s ills while also citing classics and reasoning that Japanese people were the product of incest. Shanghai Bund was in an uproar!

After the Japanese read this article, they screamed in fury, “Eliminate this person!”

When Zu Ye learned of it, he slammed the table in admiration: “This person is extraordinary. I must meet him!”

At that time, Zu Ye’s hall was not yet in Shanghai. For this purpose, he made a special trip to Zhabei and visited this prodigy under the identity of “Successor of the Iron Divination Daoist Sect.”

Zhang Zizhan at that time was young and spirited, revered Western learning, and had no regard for so-called fortune-tellers like Zu Ye. Zu Ye talked to him about feng shui—he ignored it. Later Zu Ye talked to him about Daoist studies and alchemy, and only then did he respond. So the two talked from alchemy to emperors who died from eating immortality pills, then to the relationship between alchemy and gunpowder and the Self-Strengthening Movement, and further to Western physics and chemistry.

Zu Ye asked about his future plans. He said, “To become a scientist.”

Zu Ye couldn’t help but laugh inwardly: The Japanese are about to find you, and your head is still full of fantasies—this is youth! But through the physics and chemistry knowledge Zhang Zizhan discussed, Zu Ye vaguely felt that if this knowledge were applied to “flying spirits,” the “flying spirits technique” would surely advance a great step forward!

Zu Ye was eager to recruit this kid. But Zu Ye understood that directly recruiting definitely wouldn’t work. This was a scholarly and military family. Forget about Zhang Zizhan himself being unwilling—even Zhang Zizhan’s father looked down on Zu Ye somewhat.

Zu Ye had to wait for an opportunity.

When conversation doesn’t click, even half a sentence is too much. When leaving, Zu Ye said to Zhang Zizhan’s father, “Your son is extraordinarily talented, but his talent leaks out too much, showing off excessively. In time, this may bring calamity.”

Zhang Zizhan’s father said, “I know, I know. We’ll be careful.”

Zu Ye knew this family still couldn’t see the situation clearly—they were like bricks in a latrine pit, smelly and hard. So he reminded them again: “Recently your son published an article in the newspaper, which will surely bring disaster. You must guard against it.”

Zhang Zizhan interrupted, “Not afraid. If I was afraid, I wouldn’t have published it.”

Zu Ye smiled bitterly, shook his head, performed a salute, and departed.

After returning to the hall, Zu Ye ordered Da Batou to take several brothers to monitor the area around Zhang Zizhan’s residence day and night, issuing this oral decree: “If outsiders invade, you must rescue that kid!”

Da Batou asked, “Do we rescue the others?”

Zu Ye lowered his head without speaking.

Da Batou nodded: “Understood.”

Sure enough, three days later on a rainy night, Da Batou was wearing a rain poncho, holding a gun, crouching with brothers behind a tree when he suddenly saw several people sneaking over from deep in the alley.

Da Batou saw the situation was bad. He leaped over the wall into Zhang Zizhan’s home, burst into the room, and shouted, “Run quickly! Someone’s come to kill you!”

Before his words finished, gunshots already rang out in the alley. Several operatives had already engaged in combat with the Japanese assassins.

Hearing the gunshots, Zhang Zizhan’s family stood there stupefied. Da Batou reached out and grabbed Zhang Zizhan, shouting, “Run! What are you standing there for!”

The family hurriedly ran out the back door. Just as they slipped into the alley, unexpectedly the Japanese also had an ambush on this side. Bang, bang—a few shots, and Zhang Zizhan’s father fell to the ground.

Da Batou fired back. Both sides exchanged fire. Bang! Bang! Bang! Sparks flew in the rain, flashing on and off.

Zhang Zizhan shouted, “Father!”

Da Batou pulled Zhang Zizhan, saying, “What the hell are you yelling about? He’s already dead! Let’s go!”

Zhang Zizhan gripped his father’s hand tightly and refused to leave. Da Batou became anxious. He pulled hard, dragging him to an alley corner. “You want to die here?! Go! Only by leaving can you get revenge!” As he spoke, he fired several more shots into the alley, then turned and shouted, “Quick! Step on my shoulder and climb over this wall!”

Zhang Zizhan just kept crying. Da Batou was truly anxious. “You fucking want to get me killed too?!” After speaking, ignoring Zhang Zizhan’s wailing, he bent down and actually lifted Zhang Zizhan up. Using all his strength, he exerted himself mightily and threw Zhang Zizhan over the wall, then leaped over himself.

Behind the wall was a residential courtyard. At the base of the wall was a chicken coop. Zhang Zizhan was thrown onto the chicken coop.

“Not dead, are you?” Da Batou looked at Zhang Zizhan lying on the chicken coop, still in shock. “If you’re not dead, follow me quickly!” As he spoke, he grabbed Zhang Zizhan and they fled.

Zhang Zizhan was finally rescued. Of the several operatives who acted together with Da Batou, one died.

Da Batou was very displeased, pointing at Zhang Zizhan’s nose and saying, “Just to save you, I lost one brother!”

Zu Ye glanced at Da Batou. Da Batou fell silent and sullenly withdrew.

Zu Ye wiped away Zhang Zizhan’s tears and said, “Last time I visited your residence, I told you to be careful. Your father ignored my faithful advice, and now it’s come to this result. Alas… What are your plans for the future?”

Zhang Zizhan said, “Father is dead. I want to find my second brother. My second brother is a soldier in the Nineteenth Route Army. I’ll join the military too and fight the little Japanese!”

Zu Ye sighed and said, “That’s a good idea… But you must think it through. Your father is already gone. Your eldest brother just died in battle recently. If you also join the military and something happens, your family won’t even have anyone to continue the incense…”

Zhang Zizhan said choking back tears, “Everyone’s dead—what incense is there to continue!”

Zu Ye nodded and said, “Even if you don’t think of yourself, you must think of your family clan. Your father loved you so much, having you study both Eastern and Western learning—wasn’t it so you could glorify the family name in the future and benefit the nation’s people? If you just die, how could your father close his eyes in the underworld?”

Zhang Zizhan stopped talking. Thinking of his father, he began crying again.

Zu Ye saw the opportunity had arrived and said, “Follow me to act on heaven’s behalf!”

Zhang Zizhan was startled: “Act… on heaven’s behalf?”

Zu Ye said, “We’re not fortune-tellers. We are the Jiang Xiang Sect!”

Zhang Zizhan said, “The Jiang Xiang Sect?”

Zu Ye told him about the Jiang Xiang Sect’s origins.

After listening, Zhang Zizhan finally understood, scratching his head: “A fraud gang?”

Zu Ye nodded: “Even frauds have good and bad. We only defraud evil people, not good people.”

Zhang Zizhan said, “That’s still fraud!”

Before Zu Ye could speak, Da Batou and Er Batou rushed in from outside: “You little bastard! Zu Ye racked his brains to save you. We even lost one brother, and you dare call us frauds? So what if we’re frauds? Frauds saved you! Who among those who aren’t frauds could protect you! Can the Nationalists? Can ordinary people?”

Zhang Zizhan fell silent.

Zu Ye looked at Zhang Zizhan and said, “Little brother, I also cherish talent like my own life. At such a young age, you’re versed in Eastern and Western learning—I greatly admire you. If you could join the hall, we could help each other, punish evil and promote good—wouldn’t that be wonderful?”

Zhang Zizhan was still hesitating. Zu Ye continued, “Right now the Japanese are looking for you everywhere. Stay here for now. Think it over carefully these few days. Coming and going is no obstacle. If you insist on leaving, I’ll send people to escort you out of Jianghuai!”

This was Zu Ye’s retreat-to-advance strategy. Over the next few days, Da Batou, Er Batou, and San Batou took turns bombarding him with arguments, especially San Batou—full of knowledge, first-rate eloquence, deeply versed in psychological persuasion techniques—several times reducing Zhang Zizhan to tears.

Finally, Zhang Zizhan came around. He silently walked to Zu Ye’s study, knelt before Zu Ye, and said, “Zu Ye’s life-saving grace is like being reborn from my parents. Zizhan is willing to submit to your tutelage!”

Zu Ye truly was thirsty for talent. He hurriedly helped Zhang Zizhan up. This was the ninth year of his leadership of the hall. In nine years, aside from Da Batou and Er Batou, and San Batou recruited just two years ago, the rest were all remnant soldiers and old generals from under Zhang Dancheng’s command.

From then on, Zhang Zizhan followed Zu Ye. From this time forward, Zu Ye truly gained wings, and the hall’s days truly became prosperous. Zhang Zizhan was too formidable! After reading through the Secret Book of Flying Spirits, he immediately pointed out to Zu Ye the various deficiencies in the book, saying, “Everything valuable requires innovation! The ‘flying spirits’ technique has been passed down for so many years—much of it is outdated!”

Zu Ye had him create some new “flying spirits” methods. After pondering for several days, he immediately wrote a ten-thousand-word New Methods of Flying Spirits, divided into chapters on Daoist methods, celestial numbers, meteorology, Western learning (physics and chemistry), talismans and incantations, and more. He compiled both old and new “flying spirits” techniques into a comprehensive masterwork. After Zu Ye read it, he exclaimed in wonder repeatedly, full of admiration!