Yin Yang Diviner

The next morning, before the mist had dissipated, Liuhe Town was shrouded in a hazy mist. The streets and alleys were quiet, with few pedestrians. Only the steamers of the breakfast stalls emitted white steam and a faint aroma of noodles. The gentle warmth of everyday life enveloped the entire town, washing away all the coldness and gloom of the traditional trades.

I changed into a clean, plain-colored long shirt, and slung over my long-time canvas bag over my shoulder. Inside the bag were five neatly folded, rough-edged paper packets, sharp-edged and heavy, containing all my growth, all my epiphanies, and all my redemption since I entered this industry.

Mirror, mirror, wait, lie down, return.

Five words, five paths, five stages of human nature, five forms of spiritual practice.

I walked slowly out of the old house, my steps were calm and my breath was steady. The eight Emperor coins at my waist clinked gently, emitting a clear golden sound. My body was full of yang energy and worldly energy. I was no longer the unemployed vagrant who was haunted by evil spirits in his dreams, nor was I the apprentice who was at a loss when he first saw the magic weapon.

Heading east, through cobblestone alleys and across stone arch bridges, the upturned eaves of the City God Temple emerge from the thin mist. The vermilion wooden doors are mottled and faded, the blue brick floor is covered with moss, and the incense is not burning brightly, yet it is quiet and solemn, containing the most transparent Zen in the everyday life of the city, as well as the deepest inheritance of the fortune-telling lineage.

Zhang Huaijing was already sitting at the old stone table in front of the temple.

He wore a dark blue long gown, his white hair and beard were meticulously combed, and his back was straight, like a pine or bamboo. In front of him lay an old inkstone, a small calligraphy brush, and a stack of neatly cut rough-edged paper. The morning light fell on him, outlining his thin profile. His eyebrows and eyes were indifferent, without sorrow or joy, like an old monk who had seen through the ways of the world, or a diviner who could see the heart through writing.

Hearing footsteps, he didn't look up, but simply raised his hand to grind the ink. The ink slowly dissolved in the inkstone, and the rich fragrance of ink mixed with the incense of the temple filled his nostrils.

"They're here."

Two words, calm and unperturbed, like meeting an old friend, natural and composed.

I walked to the opposite side of the stone table, bowed deeply, and greeted him with perfect courtesy: "Mr. Zhang."

This bow is a bow to the tradition of character divination, a bow to the grace of guidance, and a bow to the great path of understanding the heart through a single character, and helping oneself and others.

Zhang Huaijing looked up, his gaze falling on me. A faint hint of approval flickered in his cloudy eyes, like morning light breaking through ice, gentle yet sharp. His gaze swept over my brows and eyes, over the flow of my energy, over the outline of my bag, and he slowly spoke:

"When your breath is steady, your bones feel grounded, and your mind is at peace."

"After a year in the industry, you've gone from being an outsider to being an insider."

There were no superfluous praises, no deliberate compliments; just three simple sentences that summed up all my transformations over the past year.

From disbelief to belief, from fear to composure, from passively accepting to actively taking responsibility, from apprentice to practitioner, I have walked this path with firm steps.

I sat down, placed the canvas bag on the table, and did not immediately take out the paper package. I simply watched Zhang Huaijing grind the ink, watched the morning light flow around his brush tip, and enjoyed this ultimate tranquility.

In the art of character divination, one must have a calm mind like still water and a steady hand like a mountain. If the mind is not calm, the characters will not be upright; if the hand is not steady, the meaning will not be genuine.

"Today, I've come to write the fifth character." Zhang Huaijing put down the ink stick and pushed a small wolf-hair calligraphy brush in front of me. The brush tip was warm and the ink was rich. "The first four characters, 'Mirror,' 'Wait,' 'Lie,' and 'Return,' describe things, tools, dangers, and paths. This fifth character should describe yourself, your heart, and where you've come from after a year in this profession."

Write about yourself, write about where you belong.

My fingertips lightly touched the penholder; the wood was warm and smooth to the touch. Countless images flashed through my mind: a nightmare in an old house, a weasel calling for a soul, a graveyard swallowing yin energy, a ritual object recognizing its owner, eight emperors receiving qi, deciphering characters to save people… Scene after scene, frame after frame, they all ultimately boiled down to two words:

My heart longs to return home.

Return to your place, find peace of mind, uphold your principles, and follow your path.

I am no longer a wandering, aimless soul, no longer an idle person living in fear. I have a master, a ritual implement, fellow practitioners, and my original aspiration. This is my home.

I took a deep breath, focused my mind, cleared my mind of all distractions, and picked up my pen to write.

With a steady wrist and a smooth, flowing brushstroke, without hesitation or pause, the ink penetrates the paper, its power reaching the back of the page, and a square, gentle, calm, and resolute character leaps onto the paper:

Return.

The characters are upright and the strokes are rounded. The left side is "追" (zhuī, meaning to chase) and the right side is "帚" (zhǒu, meaning broom). Chasing away the wind and rain on the road ahead, and sweeping away the dust in one's heart. Chasing means to go, and broom means to be at peace. When you reach the end of your journey, you will find peace of mind and your home.

The brushstrokes ended and finished in one smooth motion.

I put down my pen and quietly looked at the words on the paper. My heart was clear and empty, without any waves or ripples.

This single word encapsulates my year of spiritual practice, the end of all my obsessions, and the beginning and end of my journey on the path of Yin and Yang.

Zhang Huaijing leaned down, his gaze fixed on the character "归" (return), and remained silent for a long time.

His fingertips gently brushed across the strokes, the touch soft, like caressing a piece of time that has settled, like savoring the initial aspirations of growth.

After a while, he slowly raised his hand, gesturing for me to take out the five rough-edged paper packets.

I did as instructed, taking out the five paper packets one by one and arranging them neatly on the stone table.

Mirror, mirror, wait, lie down, return—five sheets of rough-edged paper, five characters ranging from childish to mature, five distinct states of mind, laid out side by side, forming a complete picture in the morning light.

Zhang Huaijing's gaze slowly swept over the five paper packages, each word a gem, revealing the ultimate meaning of the five-character phrase, and also revealing all of my growth:

"The radical for metal is no longer paused, and the bottom part of the character is no longer pressed down."

"Your mirror no longer reflects demons, but reflects the heart."

"When the bamboo joints grow taller, the torment stops; it's time to wait patiently."

"The character '臣' (chen) in '卧' (wo, meaning 'lying down') stands up from the wall, no longer dormant; it signifies standing firm."

The radical for "return" (归) signifies reaching the end of a journey, ceasing all wandering, and returning home.

"Five words, five paths, five hearts, from confusion to clarity, from fear to composure, from wandering to returning home."

He raised his hand and gently closed the five paper packets together, stacking them on top of each other. The energy of the five papers resonated instantly, flowing with golden light and becoming one.

"A five-character scroll completes the basics."

"Qin Yiheng, you have officially entered the path of character divination."

This statement signifies recognition, a coronation, and the passing of the torch.

My heart stirred slightly, my eyes welled up with tears, and I bowed deeply in respect. This bow was to honor the tradition, to honor my original aspiration, and to honor my unwavering practice over the past year.

Zhang Huaijing handed me back the neatly folded five-character paper packet, his gaze deep, looking towards the depths of Liuhe Town, towards the old house. His tone was calm, yet it planted the most fatal and captivating hook in the final chapter of Volume One:

"After a year in the industry, you have learned to trust, to uphold, and to help others and yourself."

"But this is just the beginning."

"From tomorrow onwards, what you will learn will no longer be superficial, but fundamental; no longer just techniques, but the great Dao."

"Feng shui for finding the dragon vein, talisman array layout, dealing with spirits and monsters, balancing yin and yang—the true cultivation has only just begun."

As dawn breaks and the mist dissipates, golden sunlight bathes the bluestone ground of the City God Temple.

I gripped the five-character paper packet tightly in my hand; it felt heavy, containing both fulfillment and the endless storms ahead.

Volume One is finished, and the five characters are back in their place.

And I know clearly that a grander, more dangerous, and more soul-tempering path of learning is slowly unfolding ahead.

My second grandfather is waiting for me in the old house, the ritual implements are waiting for me in the camphor wood box, and destiny is waiting for me in the passage of time.

The road ahead is long and uncertain, but my heart belongs there, and I will forge ahead without hesitation.