Chapter 4 – The Feng Shui Master

Returning from the remote suburban cemetery to the city took over half an hour. Along the way, Assistant Song called specifically to remind the driver, who, as a result, treated the two passengers with twice the deference he had shown on the way there, delivering them back to the studio with an almost reverential attitude.

Master Sun’s personal studio was located on Fanglin Road in the eastern part of the city, near the well-known antique trading market. The location was rather unique—a quaint, two-story building designed in an ancient style, facing the street. Feng shui and antiques were often intertwined, and being neighbors with the antique market only added to the mysterious allure. In this regard, Master Sun had truly mastered the art of putting on a show.

After unceremoniously dismissing Mr. Wang’s driver, Sun Chengfeng, with his hands clasped behind his back, strolled leisurely into Jieshui Studio. The name of the studio was also steeped in meaning. As stated in The Book of Burial, “Qi scatters when it meets wind and stops when it meets water.” The name “Jieshui”¹Boundary Water paired perfectly with “Chengfeng”²Riding the Wind, and this clever wordplay always filled Master Sun with pride. However, before he could fully assume his grandmaster demeanor, a figure darted out from the side room and shouted, “Old man! Mr. Wang called! He’s coming to visit this afternoon!”

The person who spoke was a stark contrast to the antique, elegantly decorated studio. Dressed in a T-shirt and jeans, with unkempt hair, he looked like an unemployed youth who spent his days playing video games at home. Sun Chengfeng’s face immediately darkened as he cursed under his breath, “We’re still in the company! Can’t you clean up a bit? You’re going to ruin my business one day!”

As soon as the curse left his lips, Master Sun’s lofty, otherworldly demeanor vanished. The young man being scolded merely grinned, unfazed. “There’s no one else around. If I had to act all formal all the time, I’d go nuts! By the way, Brother Yang, today’s setup was really impressive!”

At this point, the man who had been following Sun Chengfeng entered the room, a slight smile on his lips. “The net’s not fully cast yet. Let’s not rush.”

This man was the same Assistant Wei from earlier, but his demeanor was now completely different from the dull, unremarkable image he had presented before. Though his features hadn’t changed, the shift in his gaze and posture transformed him from an unassuming clod of dirt into a radiant gem, as if he had a twin brother. His dark eyes were particularly striking—sharp yet restrained, lively yet composed—like the finishing touch of a masterpiece, making him appear vibrant and approachable.

The otaku was clearly one of those who found him approachable, immediately stepping forward with an eager grin. “Brother Yang, I’ve been scouring forums all day and found a great case. Should we look into it?”

“Look into what?” Sun Chengfeng, now ignored by his own son, was practically fuming. He snorted angrily, “First, let’s finish the current job. Don’t forget to notify Treasure House. The consecrated ritual object will be placed there, so we can’t afford any mistakes…”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Sun Muhua replied, still with that carefree, slacker attitude, barely paying attention.

Master Sun felt a headache coming on. He took a deep breath, gritted his teeth, and forced a smile as he turned to Wei Yang. “Ah Yang, I’ll go upstairs to prepare. We’ll need to give it our all this afternoon to reel in this big fish.”

“Don’t worry, Uncle Sun. I’ve got it under control,” Wei Yang replied with a smile before being dragged into the room by the enthusiastic Sun Muhua.

Sun Chengfeng clearly had no patience for his unruly son. He cleared his throat, clasped his hands behind his back once more, and hummed a tune as he sauntered up to his second-floor office. It was no wonder Master Sun was in a good mood. Even for an expert like him, landing such a big client wasn’t easy, and this impressive feat was all thanks to Wei Yang, his newly joined assistant.

Yes, the renowned Master Sun Chengfeng, known for his “ironclad predictions,” was, in fact, a complete fraud—or, in more colloquial terms, a con artist. In his younger days, he had apprenticed under a master in the south, traveling the jianghu and making a living by his wits. However, the world of con artists had become increasingly competitive, especially in the southern provinces where feng shui was a booming industry. Solo operators like him couldn’t compete with the big corporations, and after years of struggling to make a name for himself, he finally gritted his teeth and moved north to Shanxi Province.

Shanxi was a rapidly developing region with mountains, rivers, and plenty of gullible, wealthy people—a perfect place to set down roots. As a “boutique” master trained in Fujian and Zhejiang, Sun Chengfeng had a certain air of authority that could impress people. Over time, he managed to establish a small shop. But if he had continued on his previous path, he would have likely remained modestly successful. However, last year, he met Wei Yang in the antique market, and everything changed.

Sun Chengfeng wasn’t entirely sure about Wei Yang’s background, but it was clear that the young man had a “family legacy” in the jianghu—not just ordinary knowledge, but genuine, down-to-earth street smarts. In the old days, people like them who practiced fortune-telling and feng shui were known as “Golden Point Masters,” one of the eight major trades in the jianghu, which included medicine, magic, martial arts, storytelling, comedy, gambling, and singing. The most important skill wasn’t how accurately they could predict the future, but how well they could manipulate people with their words.

In the jianghu, those with real skills were called “sharp,” while those who relied on tricks and deception were called “fishy.” A “completely fishy” operation had no real skills at all, while a “fishy with a bit of sharp” combined both deception and genuine ability. The saying went, “All sharp and no fishy, you’ll starve; all fishy and no sharp, you’ll end up with nothing; fishy with a bit of sharp, you’ll live like a god.” To succeed in this line of work, you needed both—sharp skills and fishy tricks. However, this was easier said than done. During the Cultural Revolution, the three teachings and nine schools of thought were heavily suppressed, and much of the genuine knowledge was lost. Moreover, with the spread of education and the influence of television, movies, newspapers, and novels, the number of gullible people was decreasing, and the old tricks were becoming less effective.

Sun Chengfeng was a classic “fishy” operator, relying solely on his silver tongue. However, he had a good appearance, and while his methods were somewhat outdated, he could still make a living. Wei Yang, on the other hand, was different. It was clear that he was well-versed in the lower echelons of the jianghu, and he was particularly skilled in the art of manipulation. Though he also relied on fishy tricks, he had a certain sharpness to his approach. However, given his young age, he couldn’t command the same authority in feng shui as an older practitioner, so he teamed up with Master Sun, becoming a behind-the-scenes operator.

With Wei Yang’s powerful assistance and meticulous planning, Sun Chengfeng’s business quickly took off. In just one year, he had landed four or five major clients, and it seemed he was on the verge of great success.

Sitting in the official’s chair behind his sandalwood desk on the second floor, Sun Chengfeng examined his “enlightened master” image in the mirror and smiled with satisfaction. Then he began pondering the issue of compensation. Should he switch from a profit-sharing system to a partnership? Wei Yang was truly a talent, and if he decided to strike out on his own, what would happen?

While Master Sun was upstairs worrying, the otaku downstairs had other concerns. After forcing Wei Yang into the computer chair, he quickly opened a website and boasted, “Brother Yang, what do you think of this case?”

Wei Yang glanced at it and burst out laughing. “You’re showing me this? It’s completely ridiculous.”

On the local forum, there was a new post about a haunted housing development in the northern part of the city. The developer had allegedly committed suicide due to financial difficulties, and the entire development had started experiencing problems, with residents planning to move out. The poster claimed to be an ordinary resident of the community, and the replies were split between discussing various supernatural events and cursing the developer, with the latter half of the thread devolving into a rant about high housing prices. For a local forum, this level of activity was quite impressive.

“No way,” Sun Muhua shook his head vigorously. “This guy’s story is detailed, and I checked his IP—he’s really from that neighborhood! This kind of case could make us famous if we play it right. I think it’s worth a shot!”

“If you want to play the shaman, go ahead,” Wei Yang said as he scrolled through the post with the mouse. “We’re feng shui masters, not celestial masters. Besides, this is 99% mass psychology at work, and it’s not easy to intervene. Remember, our line of work is always about serving a select few. The more people involved, the harder it is to manage, and it’s bound to backfire eventually.”

“Really, we can’t do it?” Hearing Wei Yang’s firm tone, Sun Muhua deflated. He had been so excited about this case, thinking it could be a great opportunity.

“Instead of messing with that, why not stir up some fear and drive down the property prices? Then we could buy a small unit…” Wei Yang stroked his chin. “Hey, you know what? This neighborhood actually looks pretty good. I’ll post a reply.”

“Brother Yang!” Sun Muhua was practically on his knees as he watched Wei Yang quickly type out a long post, weaving a tale about the jumper’s birth chart, the feng shui of the neighborhood, and the city’s malevolent energy. Every sentence was a blatant lie, painting the place as one of the top ten haunted houses in the city. “Will this even work? Are you really planning to move there?”

“My rental’s almost up anyway, and this job should cover the down payment. Don’t worry, the news will spread within a week, and there’ll be plenty of cheap houses for sale,” Wei Yang said as he clicked to post. A few seconds later, he refreshed the page and saw replies praising him as a master. He chuckled and closed the tab.

“But aren’t you afraid the place might actually be haunted?” After struggling with the question for a while, Sun Muhua finally blurted out this naive concern. Scamming people was one thing—it didn’t matter if it worked or not, as long as they got paid. But living there was another matter. What if there really was something supernatural going on?

“That’s all just people scaring themselves. You can fool others, but you mustn’t fall for it yourself,” Wei Yang said with a hint of disdain in his smile. “If playing the shaman or adjusting feng shui really worked, the world would be in chaos. You’re still green, Muhua. Learn more from your old man.”

Sun Muhua jumped up from his chair. “This is about maintaining a sense of awe for the mystical, okay? Hmph, I’m going to Treasure House to find Heipi. Brother Yang, what do you want for lunch?”

“The usual—two meat dishes and one vegetable. Don’t bother with anything fancy. We’ll probably be dining with the big shots tonight,” Wei Yang waved his hand dismissively. “Go early and come back soon.”

The otaku didn’t argue and obediently ran off. Watching his somewhat clueless back, Wei Yang smiled faintly, stretched lazily, and headed upstairs. There was still a big client to deal with this afternoon, and that “Half-Immortal Sun” couldn’t afford to mess up…

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  Boundary Water
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  Riding the Wind