Yin Yang Diviner

As the sun rises high, the Five Emperor Coins lie quietly above the mirror of Zhenyuan, five coins strung together with a faded red thread.

The coins from the reigns of Shunzhi, Kangxi, Yongzheng, Qianlong, and Jiaqing are round on the outside and square on the inside, with edges worn smooth and warm by countless hands.

The bronze surface was covered with a dark patina, not the grayish-white mist of a bronze bell, but a deeper, more somber color—like the grease that had accumulated on an old house door knocker for decades. When you rubbed it with your finger, the bronze underneath was not yellow, but purple.

"The Five Emperors Coins are different from other magical artifacts." Second Grandfather held one end of the red thread, letting the five copper coins suspend above Zhenyuan.

"It wasn't raised by one person. It was raised by countless people."

"Countless people?"

Five copper coins, five dynasties. How many people handled each coin as it circulated in the market?

Farmers used them to sell rice, merchants used them to buy goods, scholars used them to buy writing brushes and ink, and women used them to buy cloth and weigh salt.

Each hand that receives the coin leaves a tiny bit of human warmth on it. Not much, just a tiny bit.

But accumulated over hundreds of years, by countless hands, that little bit of popularity has grown into a thick layer of "worldly aura."

He slowly spun the Five Emperors Coins once above Zhenyuan.

As the golden light spread upwards, the five copper coins above the mirror glowed slightly—not from reflected light, but from within the copper itself.

Five colors are layered together: at the bottom is a very thick layer of earthy yellow, which is the vitality accumulated by countless hands over hundreds of years;

On top of the earthy yellow is a layer of warm, lustrous reddish gold, which is the original color of copper that has been enveloped and suppressed by the world's atmosphere, turning it from yellow to red.

There is also a very faint blue layer on the red gold, like the fluff of old jade.

"Yellow represents popularity. Reddish gold represents copper. Cyan—" Second Grandfather paused.

"It's the scent of incense. This string of five-emperor coins was offered on the altar in the Taoist temple and has absorbed some of the spiritual power."

The three kinds of energy are layered together: the energy of worldly affairs overwhelms the energy of copper, and the energy of incense and offerings wraps around the energy of worldly affairs, one layer upon another.

When you use the Zhenyuan mirror to illuminate it, what you see is not a magical artifact, but five copper coins that have lived for hundreds of years.

I stared at the three layers of light.

On the Shunzhi Tongbao coin, the thickest layer of earthen yellow is the oldest of the five, having passed through the hands of the most people.

Kangxi's patina is the brightest reddish-gold, Yongzheng's is the deepest, Qianlong's is the most lustrous, and Jiaqing's is the thinnest.

Five copper coins, five different personalities, strung together on the same red thread, neither interfering with each other, yet echoing one another.

"The Five Emperor Coins suppress evil spirits, but they don't rely on the power of any one of them." Second Grandfather retrieved the Five Emperor Coins from above Zhenyuan and held them in his palm.

"These are five coins strung together, representing the combined energy of five dynasties. They are sinister, evil, and cannot be brought into the light. The Five Emperors' Coins have accumulated the energy of hundreds of years of human life—the energy accumulated from people eating, dressing, supporting their families, and making a living."

This energy wasn't fierce, but it was thick, so thick that even the most malevolent spirits couldn't penetrate it or overturn it.

Use it to suppress the ailment in a house, and the house will be safe; use it to suppress the ailment in a person, and the person will be stable.

He placed the Five Emperors Coins in my palm.

The five copper coins were stacked together, and they were quite heavy.

It's not the weight—it's the "thickness".

For hundreds of years, countless hands that have tilled the land, wove cloth, used abacuses, and held pens have touched them.

Those hands are long gone, turned to dust and ashes.

But the warmth they left on the copper coins still lingers, accumulating layer by layer, forming this warm and gentle worldly atmosphere.

"When you use the Five Emperors Coins in the future, remember one thing." Second Grandfather picked out the oldest Shunzhi Tongbao coin from his palm and rubbed the characters on the coin with his thumb.

"It's not used to ward off great misfortune. For great misfortune, you need a Bagua seal or wood struck by lightning. The Five Emperor Coins are for warding off 'common'—the 'common' of everyday life, the 'common' of ordinary life."

If the home is not peaceful, people fall ill for no reason, children cry at night, and the elderly always say they see someone standing at the head of the bed—these are not major omens, but rather signs that the world's energy is weak and cannot suppress the scattered negative influences accumulated in daily life.

At this time, placing the Five Emperor Coins under your pillow or hanging them on the lintel will replenish your vital energy, and those scattered anxieties will dissipate on their own.

I held the Five Emperors Coins up to my eyes.

Shunzhi, Kangxi, Yongzheng, Qianlong, and Jiaqing. The reign titles of five dynasties, the popularity accumulated over five eras, are strung together on a single red thread.

It is indeed not a magical artifact for warding off great evil.

It is for calming the "days"—making the days peaceful, allowing you to sleep soundly at night, and ensuring that when you open the door, the air inside is warm and thick, not cold and desolate.

"Second Grandfather, how many times have you used this string of five emperor coins?"

"I can't remember." He stuffed tobacco into his pipe and lit it with a match.

"I lend out more often than I use. If a child in town gets frightened, a new bride keeps having nightmares, or an old man says he's not at peace before he passes away—he comes to borrow money, and I lend it to him. He returns it after he's used it, and the copper coin gets an extra layer of 'qi' (a kind of spiritual energy)."

"If more people borrow them, won't the 'worldly order' associated with the Five Emperors' coins become chaotic?"

"No." The second grandfather exhaled a puff of smoke.

"The world's energy is not afraid of being mixed. When people are alive, their energy is inherently mixed. You are in me, and I am in you; it's hard to tell which strand belongs to whom."

Being unable to distinguish between things is what makes us human; distinguishing them too clearly means we're no longer human.

He reached out and took the Five Emperors Coins from my palm, put them back in the box, and arranged them side by side with the Bagua seal and the copper bell.

"Today you shone the Five Emperor Coins, and what you saw was the 'world.' The people and the energy of the world have accumulated layer upon layer over hundreds of years, forming these five copper coins."

In the future, when you use Zhenyuan to expose demons, evil spirits, and cause and effect, you should also remember to expose the "normal".

Major misfortunes are rare, but everyday occurrences happen every day. Only by distinguishing when to use Five Emperor Coins to replenish the world's energy and when to use the Eight Trigrams Seal to ward off major evils can one be said to have mastered the use of ritual implements.

There were seven old items in the box, and I photographed three of them today. The Bagua seal taught me "to suppress," the copper bell taught me "to guide," and the Five Emperors Coins taught me "to maintain order."

There are four things left: a peach wood sword, an ink line, lightning-struck wood, and that thin booklet.

The bamboo leaves rustled in the wind.

The shadow of the old locust tree peeked over the wall and landed on the stone table, casting a mottled shade over the old items in the box.

The Five Emperor Coins lay on a dark red velvet cloth, the five copper coins stacked together, with a red thread passing through the hole in the coin, and the ends of the thread tied into a tiny knot.

I stared at the knot for a while—it wasn't an ordinary knot, it was woven, like a small ruyi (a traditional Chinese ornament symbolizing good fortune).

"That knot was tied by Brother Chen," the Second Grandfather's voice came from under the eaves.

He didn't turn around; his back was to the courtyard, and his voice seemed to drift from a great distance.

He said that the five-emperor coins represent the vitality of the world, and the knot should not be tied too tightly. If it is tied too tightly, the vitality will not flow. If it is tied into a ruyi knot, the vitality can flow in and out, and the vitality of the world will live.

The door closed, and the courtyard fell silent again.

I looked down at the string of five emperor coins in the box. The auspicious knot lay quietly on the velvet cloth, like a small, outstretched palm.

I reached out and gently loosened the knot. The knot loosened slightly, then snapped back in place without coming undone.

It is alive.