Yin Yang Diviner

In early winter, the days are short and the nights are long, and the sun sets very early. It's only past 3 PM when the sky has already darkened. The gray-blue sky hangs over the eaves of Liuhe Town, and the branches of the old locust tree, as dark as ink, cut the last rays of the setting sun into fragments. The wind swirls the fallen leaves across the bluestone slabs, making a soft, rustling sound. The entire old house is immersed in a quiet, almost solemn, coolness.

I sat cross-legged in the center of the main room, surrounded by eight magical artifacts arranged in a row: the Zhenyuan Ancient Mirror in the center, the Well-mouth Bronze Mirror to the side, the Peach Wood Sword leaning against me, the Ink Line wrapped around my wrist, Five Emperor Coins on the ground, the Bagua Seal to calm my mind, the Copper Bell hanging from the beam, and the Lightning-struck Wood close to my body.

On the 49th day, the connection with the spirit was completed, and the eight Emperor coins were made into artifacts. The evil spirits in Liuhe Town were calmed down considerably. In these days, I am no longer in a hurry to take on cases and exorcise evil spirits. Instead, I focus on nurturing the artifacts, cultivating my mind, and practicing my qi. I refine the techniques of observing qi, drawing talismans, and identifying artifacts that my second grandfather taught me, time and time again, so that each artifact is more closely connected to my bloodline and every strand of worldly qi is more stable.

When people are calm, their tools are stable; when their minds are at ease, their spirits are not impetuous.

The sandalwood incense in the main room burned slowly, its wisps of smoke rising straight up, neither dissipating nor scattering—a sign that the house was teeming with yang energy and impervious to yin evil. I lightly tapped the surface of the Zhenyuan Mirror with my fingertips; its silvery light rippled, reflecting my calm and serene eyes. Gone were the panic, confusion, and fear I felt when I first entered this profession.

In this moment of perfect tranquility, the old cell phone in my arms suddenly vibrated, the buzzing sound breaking the silence of the main room, sounding particularly abrupt in the empty space.

I opened my eyes and reached for my phone. Two words appeared on the screen: Zhang Jinsheng.

A slight stirring ran through my heart.

Zhang Jinsheng rarely calls me first. He's a veteran in the secondhand market, a man of few words, quiet and reserved. He's spent his whole life tending his appliance repair stall, guarding the jade thumb ring left by his grandmother, and cherishing a past filled with waiting, obsession, and family ties.

The last time he talked about that thumb ring was several months ago. He said the ring was sent to Jingye Temple for worship, where the old monk was asked to chant sutras to dispel the obsession that had trapped his grandmother in the jade for decades. That thumb ring was his grandmother's beloved possession, and it was also her longing for her missing eldest son. The power of her longing was so strong that it was bound to the jade, becoming a magical artifact imbued with deep affection and sorrow.

I swiped to answer the call, held the phone to my ear, and spoke in a calm voice: "Uncle Zhang."

There was a two-second silence on the other end of the phone, broken only by the faint sound of wind and the soft tapping of an old monk's wooden fish, carried through the electrical current, distant and serene. Then, Zhang Jinsheng's aged, hoarse voice, trembling almost imperceptibly, slowly broke through:

"Yiheng... the monks from Jingye Temple have given me a reply."

His voice was very soft, as soft as a withered leaf blown by the wind. There was no grief, no sobbing, but it contained a sense of relief that had settled over half a lifetime, and a faint emptiness.

I sat up straight, my fingertips unconsciously tracing the grain of the lightning-struck wood, and asked in a deep voice, "How's the thumb ring?"

"It's over."

Three words, light and airy, yet like a stone, gently landing in the lake of my heart, rippling out a gentle wave.

"The old monk said, 'The chanting has dissipated.'" Zhang Jinsheng repeated, his throat slightly tight, and the sound of him swallowing could be heard. "He said that the chanting that had lingered in the thumb ring for decades had been transformed by the scriptures and smoothed out by the incense offerings, leaving nothing behind. The jade is still the same jade, and the thumb ring is still the same thumb ring, but inside... there is no longer any thought of my grandmother."

I closed my eyes, and the image of that warm, white jade thumb ring appeared in my mind.

Once upon a time, I looked into the jade with Zhenyuan's gaze, and within it lingered a thick, impenetrable wisp of grayish-white spiritual energy. It was the unwavering longing of an old man who sat day after day on the threshold, gazing at the village path, waiting for his son to return home. The longing lingered, the soul was restless, the jade was uneasy, and so was the man.

Magical artifacts imbued with spiritual power are both the most dangerous and the most moving.

What hurts is the unyielding obsession, the torment day and night; what moves is the deep-rooted family affection, unwavering until death.

"It's a good thing that the thoughts have dissipated," I said softly, my tone calm. "Uncle Zhang, clinging to attachments is suffering; letting go of those thoughts brings peace. Grandma hasn't passed away; she's let go."

A long sigh came from the other end of the phone, a sigh that contained decades of longing, worry, regret, and heartache, which was finally released, as light as if a thousand-pound burden had been lifted.

"I know, I understand." Zhang Jinsheng's voice became more steady, and you could hear the faint sound of him wiping his eyes. "That's what the old monk said too. He said that the thought hasn't disappeared, it has returned to its rightful place. When a person is alive, waiting is an obsession; when a person is dead, still waiting is a shackle. Now that the shackle has been broken, she can truly rest in peace."

He paused, his tone tinged with confusion and a cautious inquiry, like a lost child seeking a definite answer:

"Yiheng, let me ask you... After the chanting ends, will my grandmother still be waiting for my brother on the doorstep?"

This question, though seemingly simple, carries immense weight.

He wasn't asking about magical artifacts, or about Yin and Yang; he was asking about family ties, about people's hearts, about the deep-seated attachments etched into their bones.

I gazed at the wisps of smoke rising from the main room, at the warm light reflected in the mirror, and slowly spoke, each word gentle yet resolute:

"meeting."

"The chanting has ended, but the people's appearance remains."

"Obsession was the rope that bound her, and longing was the mark etched in her heart. When the rope broke, she was free; but the mark remained, and she would always remember that she had a son to wait for and a home to protect. The threshold was still the same threshold, the wind was still the same wind, she no longer suffered in obsession, but she still waited quietly in time."

This is not magic, nor is it prophecy; it is the most genuine answer from the human heart.

Though separated by life and death, blood ties cannot be severed; though thoughts may dissipate, deep affection cannot be dispelled.

There was complete silence on the other end of the phone. After a long, long time, Zhang Jinsheng finally choked out a "Okay." It was a simple word, but it conveyed the bitterness and fulfillment of half a lifetime.

"I buried the ring," he said again, his voice regaining its calmness, with a sense of peace that had settled. "I buried it in front of my grandmother's grave, next to her. The jade is with her, and she is with my brother. The whole family, all together, will never be separated again."

"That's for the best." I nodded.

When objects return to the earth, cherished memories find peace, and loved ones are together, that is the best ending in the world.

We chatted for a few more minutes, nothing about religious implements or evil spirits, just everyday things: the wind in Liuhe Town, the incense at Jingye Temple, and the peaceful, stable lives we had year after year. Before hanging up, Zhang Jinsheng suddenly whispered something:

"Yiheng, thank you. You've finally saved my grandma from waiting so long."

I didn't answer, I just hung up the phone quietly.

The main hall returned to silence, the sandalwood incense still burned, and wisps of smoke curled upwards.

I raised my hand and stroked the Zhenyuan Ancient Mirror. The mirror reflected the afterimage of the jade thumb ring. The grayish-white spiritual energy dissipated, leaving only the warm and lustrous jade light, clean, peaceful, and perfect.

Zhang Jinsheng's obsession has come to an end, his grandmother's attachment has been restored, and the mental ring that had troubled the family for half their lives has finally found its gentlest conclusion.

The events in Volume One, one by one, are all coming to a conclusion.

Zheng's warm pearl, Xiaoman's interpretation of characters, and Zhang Jinsheng's scattered thoughts all signify that people's hearts have returned to peace and that obsessions have come to an end.

I thought this was the end of all the side stories, the final peace before the conclusion of Volume One.

But just as the phone screen went dark, the fragment of the Soul-Suppressing Seal in his palm suddenly became hot, and a very faint golden pattern flashed by, resonating with the incense smoke of Jingye Temple.

I suddenly opened my eyes, activated my Qi Observation Technique to its fullest extent, and a surge of clear light appeared in my eyes.

The dissipated mental energy did not vanish into thin air.

It transformed into a wisp of the purest incense smoke, flowing into the earth's veins of Liuhe Town, connecting with the Eight Emperor Coins, Zhenyuan, and the pure Yin destiny within my body, forming a single line.

And the end of this worldly air points directly to the City God Temple, directly to Zhang Huaijing, and directly to those five rough-edged paper packages that carried my path into this industry.

The end of thoughts is not the end.

This is a signal that the five characters have returned to their proper places, and that Volume One is about to end.

I slowly got up, put away all the magical artifacts around me, and looked towards the City God Temple in the east of the city.

The sky had completely darkened, the night was as black as ink, and the stars and moon had no light, but my heart was as clear as a mirror.

Tomorrow, I should go to the City God Temple.

It's time to write the fifth word, to put a period to my first year in this industry.

I have a vague premonition that this fifth character will reveal the secret of the five-character scroll, will bring the final conclusion of Volume One, and will also lay the deepest hook for the path of learning in Volume Two.

A breeze swept through the hall, sandalwood incense swirled, and ritual implements resonated softly.

Everything was already predetermined.