A Prophet - Chapter 15 (Part 1)

Chapter 1 - What Defines a Haunted House

Throughout history, fortune-tellers have never met a good end, nor have those who sought them out. This is because treating human destiny like a child's game—tossing fortunes back and forth—inevitably invites ruin. Setting aside the question of accuracy, the greed and self-interest lingering at the edge of transgression are more than enough to make both parties lose themselves. One seeks to make money; the other seeks to avert disaster. Both forget that the foundation of humanity lies within oneself. All fortune and misfortune, blessing and curse, are forged by the human heart. To consult ghosts and spirits instead of looking inward, to burn incense instead of cultivating self-discipline—those scheming, petty questions and answers, those obsequious flattery-driven bargains born of avarice, lay bare the greed and fragility of human nature. They rack their brains, they stoop to the utmost baseness, clinging to the chain of fate in a manner most pitiful.

After Grandfather passed away, particularly as the 1980s arrived, visitors trickled to our doorstep. Having heard that I used to practice fortune-telling, they came seeking divination. To be frank, with such people, there was no need to employ any methods from the "Yingyao" manuals; even a fraction of the genuine I Ching knowledge I had mastered was enough to send them away satisfied. Yet I did no such thing—I merely urged them toward virtue. Some listened; others remained entirely deaf. As the saying goes, the Buddha only guides those with a predestination; when a person refuses to listen, there is nothing anyone can do.

Later on, I simply closed my doors and declined all visitors. I was old and desired nothing more than to walk the remainder of this life in peace.

The tree desires stillness, but the wind will not cease. I sealed away my sins, exited the underworld arena, and locked the grievances of the past deep within my heart. I did not want to speak of them; I could not bear to speak of them. All those rights and wrongs concerning myself and the "Jiangxiang Faction" would eventually follow me into the coffin, settling at last into quietude and turning into a handful of dust. Yet you can never imagine how bizarre the encounters between people can be in the flow of history, just as the beating of a butterfly's wings can trigger massive tremors in the void of the cosmos. The grudges of the "Jiangxiang Faction" affected the whole body with a single twitch. Frail, withered, and candle-in-the-wind old as I was, I had once again to face that unfaceable past, that vague and hazy underworld.

When four fortune-tellers suddenly appeared on the street in 1998 to tell me that Grandfather was still alive, my heart surged. The woman in her forties who appeared shortly afterward left me completely dumbfounded. She told me she was the daughter of Huang Farong. The daughter of the "Ghost Sister"? A descendant of the "Jiangxiang Faction"? Sister-in-law Four, Huang Farong, had actually not died? And she even had a daughter? At that moment, the world spun around me, and my mind plunged into total chaos. I even suspected I was dreaming—after all, for decades, I had endured far too many entangled, bizarre, and fantastical dreams.

My wife gripped my hand tightly, trying to calm my agitation. I looked at my very real wife, then bit down on my lips, finally daring to admit that everything before me was true.

Huang Farong's daughter and the four fortune-tellers brought the news that Grandfather was alive. Furthermore, their high-profile rumors and stirs across the Jianghuai region were deliberately orchestrated to unearth a mystery buried for decades—they were flushing Grandfather out.

I felt completely lost, followed by a wave of desolation: Oh, Grandfather, Grandfather, are you alive or dead? Do you have any idea how I dragged myself through these decades? Life, death, illusion, and annihilation; endless entanglements; fate and law, right and wrong; the kasaya of benevolence and the legacy of sin—all my existence has hovered and shuttled between your life and death. Your mind is shrouded in endless unknowns, yet all I ever wanted was to live with absolute clarity. You are an enigma while alive, and a debt when dead!

I tried to retrace Grandfather's path of survival, for this would be the haunting obsession of my remaining years. I also tried to compare it with the past of Grandfather as I knew it—those accounts that came from the mouth of Second Boss Ba. This woman before me was the best verification. Together, we relived Grandfather's bygone days: Grandfather's malice, Grandfather's kindness, and Grandfather's countless footprints across the rivers and lakes...

August 16, 1936, dusk. The Zhoushan Archipelago, the twenty-fifth year of the Republic (1936).

Grandfather burst out of the corridor. Outside, flames lit the sky, and fuel drums and ammunition crates ignited by artillery shells were blasting in all directions.

Hundreds of men were howling and running as shells continued to rain down. People were blown to pieces, their various organs scattering far and wide.

Grandfather steadied his nerves and realized Pei Jinglong was gone! Before landing on the island, the two had agreed that Pei Jinglong would stick close to Grandfather. The mechanisms within the "Eight Trigrams Formation" had all been designed by Pei Jinglong; at a critical moment, he could lend Grandfather a hand. Yet in the panic, Grandfather had only kept his eyes locked on Nishida Yoshiko, completely losing track of him.

Grandfather scanned the crowd intertwined in darkness and fire with bloodshot eyes.

"Grandfather!" Huang Farong's voice rang out from behind.

"Farong! Where are the brothers?" Grandfather asked anxiously.

"I don't know, everyone scattered!" Huang Farong wiped the damp hair from her forehead. "Grandfather, let's hurry and leave! The Japanese troops will be here any second!"

Grandfather had no choice but to nod in agreement. The secret congregation held before landing on the island had stipulated: once the battle began, everyone would run on their own, and no one was to protect the Grand Master, as that would make it easy for the Japanese to wipe them out in one sweep. Everyone was to run against the flow of the river to its end, where boats would be waiting to pick them up.

Grandfather and Huang Farong quickened their pace and ran toward the agreed rendezvous point. As they ran, they suddenly spotted someone ahead of them sprinting flat out.

"Second Brother!" Grandfather shouted.

Second Boss Ba looked back over his shoulder. "Haha, Grandfather!" He stumbled, nearly falling flat on his face.

The three of them sprinted together, reaching the rendezvous point only to gasp in shock: the two rescue fishing boats had been blasted to pieces by artillery shells, and several corpses drifted slowly in the water. Ignoring everything, Grandfather jumped into the water and waded through it, terrified that one of the bodies floating there might be one of his sworn brothers.

Suddenly, Grandfather spotted a familiar face among the floating corpses. Ignoring Huang Farong's tugs, he waded straight toward it, shouting, "Master Mei! Master Mei!" Grandfather plunged into the water. Mei Xuanzi's emaciated corpse floated in the turbid seawater, and the churning waves washed incessantly over the dust and mud on his face. This master who had once chanted scriptures to ferry ten thousand souls across the Huangpu River now appeared so frail and pitiful. Grandfather scooped up Mei Xuanzi's body and wept to the heavens.

"Grandfather, Grandfather!" A voice came from the pitch-black water surface as Zeng Jingwu rowed over with several brothers from the "Jingwu Association."

"Grandfather, get on the boat quickly, hurry!" Zeng Jingwu yelled.

Grandfather shoved Mei Xuanzi's body onto the boat with all his might, then scrambled aboard alongside Second Boss Ba and Huang Farong.

"Row fast!" Zeng Jingwu ordered. The junior members rowed with all their might, and the small boat quickly vanished into the depths of the sea.

"Grandfather has suffered a fright. The two boats ahead of us were both blown to pieces by artillery shells. We parked this one far off and didn't dare approach until the Japanese gunfire let up..." Zeng Jingwu explained.

Grandfather said nothing. He seemed yet to have recovered from the life-and-death parting amidst the rain of artillery fire. Before him lay the vast, pitch-black sea; he could see neither an end nor a sliver of hope.

Near the third watch of the night, a sea breeze picked up, and the roaring thunder of cannon fire grew increasingly distant. The cool ocean wind whipped across his face, and Grandfather seemed to find himself once more. After rowing for several more hours, Grandfather and his party made landfall in Shaoxing. Taking advantage of the pre-dawn darkness, the group hurried to the hideout maintained by Zeng Jingwu.

As soon as they stepped through the door, a handsome young lad hurried out to greet them. "Grandfather, are you alright?" It was Little Liu.

Grandfather patted him on the shoulder. "I'm fine, completely fine."

Ever since submitting to Grandfather under Wang Yaqiao's wing last year, Little Liu had remained glued to Grandfather's side. Yet this time, for the setup to land on the island and fight a decisive battle against Japanese secret agents, Grandfather had left him behind. Despite Little Liu's earnest pleadings, Grandfather maintained that he was still one of Ninth Master's men; if he lost his life right after arriving at the faction's stronghold, there would be no way to face Ninth Master. Therefore, before the battle commenced, Grandfather had instructed him to temporarily stay at Zeng Jingwu's quarters.

Grandfather carefully looked over the gloomy residence. "Brother Zeng, why did you pick a haunted house?"

Zeng Jingwu was momentarily stunned, then laughed. "How did Grandfather know this was a haunted house?"

Grandfather smiled faintly. "Chinese sweetgum trees in the front and pagoda trees in the back spell a truncated lifespan; the western wing sits a full roof-eaves higher than the eastern wing, known as the 'Ghost Peeping Head.' A house like this easily breeds great disasters!"

This deduction by Grandfather showcased the profound mastery of a grandmaster of the Jiangxiang sect. According to ancient customs, pagoda trees should be planted in front of a residence and sweetgum trees in the back. The character for pagoda tree (huai) contains the radical for wood and ghost, serving as a guard before the house; the sweetgum (chun) signifies extended longevity, serving as a shield behind. Thus, it must be pagoda trees in front and sweetgum trees in the back; reversing this inevitably ruins wealth and shortens life. Furthermore, the eastern and western wings of an ancient courtyard had to be symmetrical, avoiding discrepancies in height, length, or width. If one wing towered significantly higher than the other, viewed in the pitch of night, it looked precisely like a malevolent ghost raising its head—a phenomenon called the "Ghost Peeping Head," which brought supreme misfortune! Although the "Jiangxiang Faction" originated from the grassroots, they were by no means fools, especially their successive Grand Masters, who all possessed genuine knowledge. Grandfather's theoretical system drew from the common essence of various feng shui doctrines.

The schools of Chinese feng shui were as numerous as ox hairs, with the Xuan Kong Flying Star school alone dividing into over a hundred sub-sects, each boasting its own theoretical system. This created a major problem: for the very same residence, Master Zhang would declare it a flourishing estate, while Master Li would denounce it as a haunted house; the Yang Gong school would claim it was beset by "evil portents" bringing harm to wives and sons, while the Sanhe school would insist it was blessed by "auspicious stars" bringing abundant progeny. Every sect touted itself as the sole truth while dismissing everyone else as nonsense. For ordinary folks, distinguishing truth from falsehood in such a climate was exceedingly difficult, leaving them utterly at a loss.

Ever since taking charge of the faction, Grandfather had enjoyed reading books on feng shui during his leisure time, often finding himself utterly baffled by these contradictory assertions. Eventually, Grandfather came up with a clever method: "select and apply their commonalities." Put simply, no matter how much various theories changed or conflicted, different schools invariably shared certain commonalities, and the intersection of these was precisely what Grandfather adopted.

Regardless of whether it was the Form School of feng shui, the Compass School, or the Fate School, their judgments regarding auspiciousness and misfortune shared a common set of rules—principles universally followed by all schools within the Chinese feng shui community.

First, a residence where the front is higher than the rear is inauspicious. What is the front, and what is the rear? The "front" refers to the direction faced by the main gate or the main hall. The territory of China generally lies north of the equator, and since ancient times people have built their homes facing the sun—a practice known as sitting facing south and looking north. Thus, the "front" generally denotes the south, and the "rear" generally denotes the north.

Second, a southeast-high and northwest-low configuration is inauspicious. Ancient legends tell of Gonggong striking and breaking Mount Kunlun, resulting in a landscape where "the heavens tilt to the northwest and the earth sinks to the southeast." Therefore, a high northwest and low southeast is the law of nature. Reversing this—having a southeast-high and northwest-low layout—goes against heaven and earth, bringing great disasters, which is why it is deemed a haunted house.

Third, buildings where the right side is higher than the left side are inauspicious. The first two rules concern terrain, while this one concerns surface architecture. This principle stems from a maxim in feng shui lore: "The Green Dragon on the left, the White White Tiger on the right; better to let the Green Dragon tower ten thousand feet than let the White Tiger raise its head." This means that within a complex of buildings or adjacent residences, the structure on the right must not be taller than the main house—not even a fraction taller—whereas the one on the left may rise as high as it pleases. Modern people read maps with north at the top, south at the bottom, west on the left, and east on the right. Ancient people, however, took the north as their foundation, backing against the north as their starting point. Reflected on the Eight Trigrams diagram, the north represented the rear, belonging to the water element ruled by the Dark Warrior (Xuanwu); the south represented the front, belonging to the fire element ruled by the Vermilion Bird (Zhuque); the east represented the left, belonging to the wood element ruled by the Green Dragon (Qinglong); and the west represented the right, belonging to the metal element ruled by the White Tiger (Baihu). Only then did the saying "The Green Dragon on the left, the White Tiger on the right, better to let the Green Dragon tower ten thousand feet than let the White Tiger raise its head" come into being.

"Green Dragon and White Tiger" originated from the "Six Beasts" theory in ancient feng shui lore, which states: "The Green Dragon on the left, the White Tiger on the right, the Vermilion Bird in front, the Dark Warrior behind, the Hook Chen in the center, and the Tengshe transforming into a dragon." Fortune-tellers or feng shui masters frequently muttered these phrases when inspecting feng shui, yet practically none genuinely understood them. Especially after the founding of New China, traditional culture gradually declined, and many "masters" possessing less than a cat's paw of skill frequently hosted lectures or even published books blabbering about feng shui, when in reality they could not even grasp the most basic directional meanings of "front, rear, left, and right" from ancient texts.

Fourth, a residence with a mountain in front and water in the back is inauspicious. Ancient people advocated building homes "relying on mountains and bordering water," with mountains positioned at the rear to provide support, and water positioned in the front to represent the gathering of wealth. Reversing this meant having nothing to lean on, leading to financial ruin and disaster.

Aside from these macroscopic feng shui taboos, Grandfather had also summarized rules for judging auspiciousness and misfortune within bedrooms based on ancient wisdom.

First, the interior bedchamber should be tranquil rather than active. The bedroom is a place for sleep. When a person falls asleep, their soul rests. If there is movement or activity within the bedroom, the soul becomes unsettled and loses its peace, leading to frequent nightmares and abysmal sleep quality. As the ancients said: "When the soul is at peace, there are no dreams." Therefore, the bedroom should be tranquil rather than active.

Second, bronze mirrors should not be placed at the head of the bed. According to the Shuowen Jiezi: a mirror (jing) reflects scenery (jing). In ancient times, mirrors were ritual implements used to summon deities and banish ghosts. Li Shizhen once stated: "An ancient mirror is like an ancient sword; if it possesses divine presence, it can ward off evil spirits and malevolent entities." The ancients also believed mirrors could induce nightmares, and Cao Xueqin's Dream of the Red Chamber repeatedly mentions that mirrors possess spiritual communication. Hence, the ancients viewed placing a mirror at the head of the bed with great taboo, believing that a mirror "reflects living humans by day and ghosts by night." Waking up to use the chamberpot at night might cause one to catch sight of things that ought not to be seen. Consequently, the ancients never placed mirrors at the head of the bed—especially when a family member passed away, at which point all mirrors in the house were invariably pasted over with mourning paper. This tradition has been preserved to the present day.

Third, blades and weapons should not be kept inside the bedroom. In ancient times, barring martial artists, ordinary people rarely kept weapons in their bedrooms, and placing sabers or spears beneath the bed was even less appropriate. The state of "pillowing on a spear awaiting the dawn" represented a condition of constant readiness for a desperate fight, carrying an aura of slaughter too heavy that easily courted disaster.

Fourth, shrines or statues of deities and Buddhas should not be venerated within the inner bedchamber. Deities are meant to be worshipped, and the place of worship must be clean and serene. The bedroom is a place for sleeping; setting aside the vigorous turbulence of husband and wife intimate relations, the mere stench of the cycle of rebirth alone was enough to incur the crime of supreme irreverence.

Zeng Jingwu burst into laughter upon hearing this. "Grandfather's words are spot on. This estate is the former home of Ding Wugui, the boss of Shaoxing's 'Employment Agency.' Master Ding was hacked to death here by a group of desperate criminals over a labor dispute late last year, and his wife and two sons were hacked to death right along with him."

Grandfather nodded upon hearing this. "That is why Instructor Zeng chose to hole up here. Officials pay no attention to a place like this, common folk ask no questions, and ordinary people give it a wide berth..."

Huang Farong gave a cough and lowered her voice. "This place is devoid of human presence. While it makes a fine hiding spot, it is a haunted house after all, and if we stay here too long, I'm afraid..."

Zeng Jingwu smiled and shook his head. "Miss Huang worries too much. You folks who divine fortunes believe in these things, but Ninth Master and I do not. We believe only in the guns in our hands and the brothers under our command. Grandfather and his party can rest here for a few days, and once the wind blows over, Grandfather can go seek refuge with Ninth Master!"

Grandfather smiled as well. "Instructor Zeng is right—a person's destiny is grasped in their own hands. Instructor Zeng's assistance in setting up the scheme to thoroughly smash the Japanese secret agent base, coupled with your risking your life to rescue us, deserves our deepest gratitude. Once I bury Master Mei tomorrow, it will be time for me to leave."

Zeng Jingwu faded his smile / expression tightening, stepped closer to Grandfather, leaned in, and whispered a few words into his ear.

Grandfather shook his head. "Many thanks, Instructor Zeng. Ninth Master has treated me with kindness as heavy as a mountain, but now that I have escaped this life-and-death calamity, I will not go bother Ninth Master. The 'Jiangxiang Faction' has endured for over three hundred years to reach this day; we cannot be slashed away or exterminated entirely. Wherever our feet land, we can take root. Tomorrow, I shall naturally lead my brothers to seek our own path, so Instructor Zeng need not worry."

Zeng Jingwu opened his mouth as if to say more, but Grandfather shook his head and waved his hand, his resolve to leave already set.

Early the next morning, Grandfather and his companions quietly buried Mei Xuanzi at the foot of the mountain. Grandfather originally intended to erect a memorial tablet for him bearing inscriptions such as "The Spirit Tablet of Sworn Younger Brother Mei Xuanzi," but considering safety concerns, he ultimately dropped the idea.

Yet Grandfather meticulously selected an auspicious feng shui plot for Mei Xuanzi, hoping his descendants might prosper. The Grand Master of the Jiangxiang Faction had suddenly turned superstitious, leaving those present deeply baffled. It was impossible to tell whether Grandfather had truly gained enlightenment in feng shui after years of visiting accomplished masters, or whether the vicissitudes of his fate left him with nowhere else to anchor his grief. At any rate, his selection was excruciatingly thorough: he inspected the dragon veins, wind directions, and sand formations, and even scooped up a handful of earth to smell its scent.

Around noon, Grandfather whispered a few instructions into Zeng Jingwu's ear, then bowed in farewell. Huang Farong, Second Boss Ba, and Little Liu followed Grandfather as they slowly vanished into the deep streets of Shaoxing...