Chapter 88: A Pit Twelve Feet Long and Six Feet Wide
Chapter 88: A Pit Twelve Feet Long and Six Feet Wide
Zhong Fu, the butler, made a moderate first impression on Li Zian. Du Linlin, however, struck him as overly serious. She didn’t seem to smile much, her face expressionless, giving an impression of hiding her emotions well.
Taking his seat, Li Zian got straight to the point: “May I ask where Miss Du heard about the Worry-Relieving Studio?”
Du Linlin replied evenly, “I have a friend on Haijing Island. He’s acquainted with a certain casino boss named Wen Sheng and heard about you from him. He said you’re exceptional, a true Master. So, I took the liberty of inviting you to help me.”
“What kind of help might Miss Du be seeking?” Li Zian inquired.
Du Linlin just looked at him in silence.
Zhong Fu personally brewed a cup of tea for her and then stepped back to the side.
Du Linlin still didn’t state what help she needed. She didn’t even touch her tea; she just continued looking at Li Zian.
Li Zian met her gaze directly. He could read the intent in her eyes. She wanted to test his capabilities as a Master.
Reaching into the solid wooden toolbox beside him, Li Zian pulled out a sketchbook, roughly the size of an A4 sheet, along with a pen. He stretched across the table to place them on the coffee table before Du Linlin.
Du Linlin looked surprised. “What does this mean?”
Li Zian explained, “Since Miss Du prefers not to speak plainly, I will interpret the situation through divination. Please take that pen, close your eyes, and draw freely on the pad. I will tell you when to stop.”
“I’ve never seen divination done this way before. Mr. Li, are you certain you can discern my request from some divination symbol drawn like this?” Du Linlin’s disbelief was evident.
Li Zian merely smiled without answering.
In truth, he didn’t need to see her eyes to know she doubted him; her addressing him as “Mr. Li” instead of “Master” said it plainly enough.
Such an air she put on.
But he was already here. Leaving now would ruin the Studio’s reputation.
Du Linlin closed her eyes and began drawing randomly on the sketchpad.
One minute passed. Li Zian said, “Alright.”
Du Linlin stopped drawing, lifted the pen, and opened her eyes. She looked down at her creation: a tangle of lines resembling a bird’s nest. Though she imagined it as a nest, it truly was no distinct pattern, just layers of chaotic scribbles.
“Master Li, what divination symbol can you possibly see from this?”
Li Zian didn’t answer. He reached over, took the sketchbook from her, and then closed his own eyes.
Within him, the Great Sluggish Cauldron stirred to life. Fine smoke curled upward, the symbols and patterns etched on its surface casting a faint, ghostly green light.
A shape hidden within the “bird’s nest” emerged. It was the image of a rectangular pit.
The hexagram interpretation materialized amidst the curling smoke: A pit twelve feet long and six feet wide. On a wordless monument carved with Mu and Tu. Filial sons and daughters weep with grief. White couplets adorn the hall before the old home.
Du Linlin watched Li Zian, her eyes growing increasingly skeptical and confused.
This reaction was natural. Such a young, handsome “Master” already felt unreliable to her. And this youthful “Master” had her merely scribble blindly, claiming he could divine meaning from her nest-like doodles? That felt utterly implausible.
“Mr. Li, what divination symbol did you see?” Du Linlin asked again.
Li Zian gave no response; his eyes remained closed.
The symbol and its interpretation were revealed, but he needed time to analyze them and plan what to say. He wasn’t some roadside street vendor plying cheap tricks. He offered high-end, private, international bespoke services. The Studio’s brand name, the Master’s image – it all needed careful handling. He needed a script.
Still getting no answer, Du Linlin’s brow furrowed slightly.
Her mind was made up: hearing is not as good as seeing actual proof. If Li Zian couldn’t produce something convincing, she would quietly signal him to leave by simply drinking her tea.
At that moment, Li Zian opened his eyes and spoke calmly. “The divination mirrors the heart. Lately, you’ve been deeply troubled by your father’s illness, haven’t you?”
Du Linlin gave a slight jolt of surprise.
Li Zian didn’t wait for her answer. He continued, “You drew a pit. The divination for this particular cast is: A pit twelve feet long and six feet wide. On a wordless monument carved with Mu and Tu. Filial sons and daughters weep with grief. White couplets adorn the hall before the old home.”
Du Linlin’s pupils dilated noticeably.
His words had struck true.
Li Zan deciphered directly: “A pit twelve feet long and six feet wide – that’s the size of a grave. On a wordless monument carved with Mu and Tu – combine Mu and Tu, and it forms the character ‘Du.’ Filial sons and daughters weep with grief – the character for ‘filial’ shows the generation. You are the one asking for my help, meaning the problem involves a blood relative of senior generation to yours. You insisted on confidentiality, so I won’t delve into why, but I conclude it’s your father. White couplets adorn the hall before the old home – mourning couplets are white, hung before the great hall. Your father’s wish is to have his final rites conducted back in his hometown. Am I correct?”
Du Linlin suddenly stood up and bowed deeply at the waist to Li Zian. Her tone transformed into one of profound reverence. “Master Li, you truly are a Master!”
Li Zan offered a faint smile, lifted the teacup before him, and took a small sip.
“Master, please, grant your help to dispel my father’s misfortune and see him through this ordeal!” Du Linlin bowed deeply once more.
Li Zan set down his cup. His voice was mild. “Given your family’s wealth and network, I assume Mr. Du has already consulted the very best doctors available. Had they known what to do, you wouldn’t have sought me out. And according to the divination… they’re already digging the grave before you’ve come to me? Isn’t that a little late?”
Beside herself with anxiety, Du Linlin thumped to her knees before Li Zian, tears welling in her eyes. “Master! Please, regardless, just see my father! Even if it’s only to try… I beg you!”
Seeing Du Linlin kneel, Zhong Fu dared not remain standing either. He dropped heavily to his knees. “Please, Master, just try!”
Li Zan remained seated, calm and collected. She had put on airs, questioned him before. Well, he’d accept this kneeling apology.
For a Master, face and prestige were paramount.
Li Zan cast Mu Chuntao a sideways glance.
Mu Chuntao understood instantly and chimed in, “Master, I see Miss Du’s earnest plea. Please consider looking.”
Only then did Li Zan rise and step towards Du Linlin. He reached out, taking her arm to help her up. His hand grasped her forearm as he lifted – encountering a hard bicep, unexpectedly defined. Surprise flickered within him. Though Mu Chuntao’s WeChat ID was “King Kong Lolita,” her own muscles weren’t this prominent. Du Linlin’s physique, however, displayed the authentic definition of power training. Compared to Mu Chuntao, she fit the “King Kong Lolita” moniker far better.
It suddenly clicked. He recalled the dossier on Du Zhishan. It mentioned Du Zhishan was the vice-president of the Huaxia Martial Arts Association – he must be a martial artist himself. As Du Zhishan’s daughter, raised practicing martial arts, developing such firm muscle was entirely natural.
“Master, you’ll do it?” Du Linlin’s tone was reverent now, tinged with caution, afraid of somehow offending him again.
Li Zan gave a single nod. “Take me to see your revered father.”
He approached Du Zhishan as one would trying to save a dying horse – utterly without confidence. But when someone kneels and pleads, refusing to even look was also unacceptable.
Crucially, if he did nothing, how could he get paid?
His private funds had been taken by Yu Meilin to cover salaries. Tang Qing got fifty thousand more. Factor in the several tens of thousands spent earlier on cosmetics for Mu Chuntao… his once proud seven-figure private stash was now severely diminished.
“Master, please follow me.” Du Linlin turned to lead the way, instructing Zhong Fu as she did so. “Uncle Zhong, fetch the hospital’s test reports for the Master to review.”
Zhong Fu responded promptly, “Yes, Miss.”
Li Zan interjected, “No need. I won’t look at the hospital reports. I will personally diagnose Mr. Du.”
His healing arts were an entirely different paradigm from conventional doctors. Besides, he couldn’t understand the medical jargon anyway. If the hospitals could have fixed Du Zhishan, he, the “Master,” wouldn’t be needed here.
Zhong Fu glanced at Du Linlin, awaiting her decision about the reports.
Du Linlin said, “Then don’t bring them. We shall follow the Master’s guidance.”
They crossed the living room but did not go upstairs. Instead, Li Zan followed Du Linlin into a ground-floor room.
The room was spacious, outfitted with numerous medical devices: oxygen tanks, cardiac monitors – everything seemed present. A nurse in a white coat stood vigil by the bed.
The man lying there was Du Zhishan. The dossier said he was in his fifties, but he resembled a man in his sixties, hair greying at the temples, appearing much older than his years. His pallor was deathly, the space between his eyebrows dark, his lips a deep purple – the undeniable countenance of a man nearing the end.
The bedside nurse stood up quickly, looking puzzled as Du Linlin entered with Li Zan and Mu Chuntao.
Du Linlin instructed, “Leave the room. Wait outside.”
The nurse asked no questions, nodded, and exited.
Li Zan approached the bed. He studied Du Zhishan’s coloring closely before reaching out to grasp his wrist.
Before arriving, he’d feared Du Zhishan had cancer or something similar. Cancer patients, especially late-stage ones, were often skeletal, and chemotherapy robbed them of hair. But Du Zhishan lacked these signs. A flicker of hope ignited within Li Zian.
If he was going to do this, he wanted to achieve a cure.
It would make taking their money feel justified. And later, if he ever needed Du Zhishan or Du Linlin’s help, he could simply voice the request with conviction.
“Master, are you taking my father’s pulse?” Du Linlin asked softly.
Li Zan gave no answer. Zhenqi surged forth, then flowed back. He was using his own Fangshi method to diagnose Du Zhishan’s condition and fate.
Mu Chuntao hushed her voice, “He isn’t taking a pulse. He is using an arcane technique to assess Mr. Du’s condition, his fortunes and misfortunes. Don’t disturb him. Just watch.”
Du Linlin felt a surge of shock and intense curiosity, but dared not speak further. She glanced at Zhong Fu. Without a word from her, he understood the look and quietly slipped out of the room.
Li Zan’s Zhenqi had flowed out smoothly, but its return felt sluggish, stagnant in places. He sensed Du Zhishan’s blood flowing incredibly slowly, with some areas hardly moving at all. From the Zhenqi echoing back, he began to form an initial understanding.
He then slipped his hand beneath the covers, under Du Zhishan’s clothes, resting his palm directly over his chest.
Zhenqi streamed out. Zhenqi streamed back.
But returning weren’t just currents of Zhenqi. Information flowed back with it.