Chapter One: The Premier Feng Shui Master of the Great Qing

Feng Shui can kill, silently, leaving one’s lineage cut off, causing death by unnatural means.

Feng Shui can also nurture, enabling a person to ascend smoothly in life, amass wealth from all directions, and thrive in both fortune and offspring.

Feng Shui can sustain corpses, for when a body is hidden in a blessed land, it may transcend mortality, achieve transformation, and join the ranks of immortals.

You may not believe in fate, nor in Feng Shui.

Yet, throughout thousands of years of Chinese civilization, emperors and nobles have all been obsessed with the arts of geomancy.

If you work diligently, endure hardship, and relentlessly strive, yet your pockets remain empty—

If you are handsome, from a privileged family, but reach thirty and still live alone—

If nothing goes well for you, every day is muddled, your luck and fortune poor—

If you encounter such circumstances, either your fate is flawed, or the Feng Shui of your home is amiss.

Li Chengfeng’s great-grandfather, Li Jinshan, was once the chief Feng Shui master of the Imperial Observatory during the Qing Dynasty.

His grandfather, Li Tiancheng, was also a renowned Feng Shui practitioner, adept in the arts of Yin and Yang, the mysterious gateways, plum blossom divination, and secret folk methods.

Li Chengfeng grew up under his grandfather’s guidance, and, influenced by him from an early age, developed a keen interest in the mysteries of Feng Shui and folk magic.

Though only twenty-two this year, he has achieved remarkable mastery in geomancy and esoteric arts, inheriting his grandfather’s true teachings.

His grandfather opened a place called “Hall of Destiny” in the coastal city of Qingzhou, where he helped people interpret dreams, choose names, analyze characters, adjust Feng Shui, cure strange illnesses, and connect fates—consulting both the affairs of the living and the dead.

Owing to his reputation, many sought his counsel for matters of both worlds.

Some came for love, some for prospects, some for Feng Shui, some to resolve calamities, some for help with mysterious ailments.

But as his grandfather grew old and disabled, two years ago he closed the Hall of Destiny, ceasing to advise on spiritual matters or future ambitions.

He bought a small farmhouse in a seaside fishing village and embraced a secluded, pastoral life.

After Li Chengfeng graduated from university, he struggled to find work, and his girlfriend of two years left him for a wealthy heir, which struck him hard.

At dusk, after another failed interview, Li Chengfeng bought three bottles of strong liquor, two pounds of pork head meat, and some prepared dishes, and returned to his grandfather’s residence.

After two cups of fiery spirits, Li Chengfeng voiced his thoughts.

“Grandfather, I want to reopen the Hall of Destiny.”

“No!” His grandfather refused without hesitation. He did not want his grandson to follow this path, fixing his lone eye on him with a complex expression.

“Chengfeng, look at me now. If you do not wish to end up like this, never mention reopening the Hall of Destiny again.”

Looking at his grandfather’s crippled body, Li Chengfeng took a deep breath.

His grandfather was disabled—he had only one eye and was missing a leg.

In his grandfather’s words, this was punishment for revealing too many secrets of heaven, helping others defy fate, and thus incurring divine retribution.

Li Chengfeng grew up with his grandfather, witnessing every time he suffered such punishment, watching him transform from a healthy man into an invalid.

His grandfather drained his glass in one gulp and sighed. Then, addressing Li Chengfeng by his childhood nickname, he began to speak in earnest.

“Chengfeng, I won’t let you pursue this path for your own good.”

“Those of us in this line of work—reveal too many heavenly secrets, and there’s never a good end.”

“I don’t want anything bad to happen to you.”

“I hope you lead an ordinary life, marry, have children, and live well.”

As he spoke, he drifted into stories about the great-grandfather, Li Jinshan.

Li Chengfeng’s interest was piqued; he poured his grandfather a drink and listened quietly to tales of his ancestor.

His grandfather sipped his wine, his expression immersed in distant memories, recounting events from many years ago.

The story began at the end of the Qing Dynasty.

At that time, Li Jinshan, chief of the Imperial Observatory, observed the stars by night and saw the Emperor’s star sinking in the west, its destined life exhausted—the Qing Dynasty was beyond saving.

Having calculated the imminent fall of the empire, Li Jinshan donned Daoist robes and fled the capital, embarking on a wandering life.

Soon, his funds were depleted, forcing him to set up a street stall, offering character analysis, face reading, Feng Shui advice, and writing letters for a meal.

It was an era of chaos, with people barely surviving; few had spare money for divination or geomancy.

On his journey, Li Jinshan struggled to make ends meet, fearing exposure as a former imperial official, and hid wherever he could.

After an unknown period of exile, he reached Qinzhou, his Daoist robes tattered, looking like a beggar, his stomach empty for days.

Desperate for a meal, he set aside concerns for his identity and squatted by the roadside, scratching out words with a stone—“Dream interpretation, character reading, face reading, Feng Shui, fortune-telling.”

He waited there for two days and nights without a single customer, eventually fainting from hunger in the street.

The chief geomancer of the Qing Dynasty reduced to such a state—how lamentable.

He thought he would die there, but fate would not let him perish. Li Jinshan was rescued by a prominent local merchant, Chen Tinghai.

When Li Jinshan awoke, he found himself lying on a soft bed, flanked by two lovely attendants, with a table laden with chicken, duck, and fish.

After his long hunger, Li Jinshan feasted and then met his benefactor, Chen Tinghai.

The two became fast friends, and Li Jinshan remained with the Chen family, lavishly entertained by Chen Tinghai with fine food and drink.

Half a year passed quickly, and Li Jinshan felt increasingly guilty about living off the Chen family’s hospitality.

He was puzzled as to why Chen Tinghai treated him so kindly for so long, suspecting he had met an exceedingly generous soul.

One night over drinks, after several rounds, Chen Tinghai revealed his troubles.

“My friend, though I am wealthy beyond measure and have passed forty, I have not a single child.”

“Why is this?”

“Why does fate treat me so?”

Li Jinshan was surprised; he had studied Chen Tinghai’s face before. According to his features, Chen was not destined for wealth—his fate was a laborious one with a killing star—but his progeny palace indicated two sons and a daughter.

Destined for poverty, yet possessed of great riches; meant to have two sons and a daughter, yet childless. His fate seemed altered.

Having lived off the Chen family for half a year, Li Jinshan felt compelled to help and sought the cause of Chen’s misfortune.

“Brother Chen, judging by your face, you should be blessed with many descendants. How can you have no children?”

“Your fate must have been tampered with.”

“My friend, you know the art of face reading?” Chen Tinghai feigned surprise. Li Jinshan smiled and nodded.

“I know a little, nothing more.”

The next day, Li Jinshan examined Chen Tinghai’s Feng Shui. The household’s geomancy was sound, so the issue likely lay with the ancestral burial grounds.

Chen Tinghai led Li Jinshan to the family’s ancestral tomb.

Seeing the site’s Feng Shui, Li Jinshan was shocked.

“This is the ‘Gold Hidden Under the Pillow’ formation?”

“Good eye, my friend. Our ancestral tomb’s Feng Shui is exactly that—a wealth-attracting formation with gold hidden beneath the pillow.”