I consulted a feng shui master in Hong Kong.

Kowloon, the Walled City.

The damp night air seeps up along the cracks in the brickwork, and the narrow stairwell always seems to be perpetually filled with a musty smell.

The power lines hung haphazardly overhead, like a tangled net, cutting the moonlight outside into fragmented pieces.

In the deepest part of the small temple, the Eight-Faced Buddha sat cross-legged in front of a Buddha statue with mottled gold paint, holding a string of black prayer beads in his hand, his expression unpredictable.

This was the first time he had felt so uneasy since he came to Hong Kong after learning his unorthodox skills in Thailand.

It wasn't because of the strong wind outside, nor was it because some fool in the village caused trouble.

There's always a lingering resentment in my heart, I can't calm down.

"Could it be... something that happened yesterday?" The Eight-Faced Buddha looked up at the Buddha statue, his agitation growing heavier.

The Pei family's scheme should have been the most secure one.

The Five Ghosts position suppresses wealth, money is buried under the cabinet, the doorway reflects light, a red light is always on, and there is also a talisman with a corrected pen under the ancestral portrait.

The whole thing is interconnected; even if it doesn't bring in a fortune, it will at least keep the Pei family on their toes.

Logically speaking, once such a situation occurs, at best the family will be plagued by illness, and at worst the family will be financially ruined, leaving the head of the household with no chance to back down.

Not to mention, he also casually asked someone to place two stone guardians outside the Sanxuan Temple yesterday, secretly setting up an evil god trap.

That wasn't a deadly trap, but it was the most insidious.

First, extinguish the vital energy at the entrance, then suppress the incense offerings. Over time, the nascent vitality of the Sanxuan Temple will naturally dissipate.

According to his plan, even if the Pei family's surface layer was removed, there should still be a lingering turbidity left behind to slowly retaliate; and once the Three Mysteries Temple was suppressed by the Evil God Bureau, at most two days later, people's hearts would be in turmoil and incense offerings would be disrupted.

But things didn't go as he expected.

The Pei family not only didn't fall into chaos, but actually stabilized.

The Sanxuan Temple remained completely silent.

The strangest thing is that, starting last night, he himself has been unable to sleep soundly.

When I close my eyes, I always feel like someone is standing outside the door.

When you get up and chant the incantation, the incense ash will inexplicably drift to the left.

Even the Buddhist prayer beads that had been with him for many years felt eerily cold to the touch today.

As he looked at the Buddha statue, a thought, one that he himself was unwilling to admit, arose in his mind for the first time.

I'm afraid I'm going to get into some trouble this time.

But in Hong Kong today, is there really anyone who can surpass me in feng shui and numerology?

He couldn't help but have some doubts.

……

……

Outside the temple gate, footsteps came in quick succession.

First came a middle-aged man in a light gray suit, sweat beading on his forehead. He barely dared to lift his shoes too high as he entered, as if afraid of soiling the cracks in the floor tiles. Next came two men in plainclothes; though not in uniform, they stood ramrod straight, their eyes gleaming with the sharp wit of someone who had spent years in government offices. Behind them were a portly boss with hands full of gold rings, an accountant wearing thin-rimmed glasses and carrying a briefcase, and even a woman with her hair pulled back and adorned with jewels.

Upon entering, these people all bowed their heads in unison, clasped their hands together, and respectfully addressed the figure sitting cross-legged before the Buddhist shrine:

"Buddha."

Their voices varied in pitch, but their expressions were remarkably similar.

Respect, and awe.

This small Buddhist temple is hidden deep within the Kowloon Walled City. From the outside, it appears as nothing more than an ordinary wooden door and a half-burnt incense banner, with old characters from an unknown dynasty on the lintel, peeling away so much they are almost illegible. But once the door is closed, the interior seems to be completely separated from the filth, chaos, and cramped space outside. The incense isn't particularly strong, but it burns continuously year-round; the Buddha statue isn't large, but it's gilded with a somber golden light. In the corner, two ever-burning lamps flicker, their flames low but steadily illuminating the faces of everyone who enters.

The eight-faced Buddha sits in front of the Buddha statue.

Today he wore a dark brown monk's robe with a thin outer garment, slowly twirling a string of glossy black prayer beads in his hand, a gentle and amiable smile on his face. Judging by his appearance alone, he truly resembled an enlightened monk who had seen through the vanities of the world and relieved people's suffering. Who would have thought that he had actually been restless these past few days, even feeling a tightness in his chest when meditating at night?

But right now, not a trace of that unease showed on his face.

He simply raised his eyelids slightly, his gaze sweeping over each of the newcomers, his smile neither too deep nor too shallow, just right.

"It's good that all of you have arrived today."

The first to speak was the middle-aged man in the gray suit. He stepped forward, took out a thick leather envelope from his sleeve, and placed it on the altar with both hands, his tone filled with barely suppressed joy.

"Master, thanks to you changing that channel for me last time, the factory's goods have been selling very smoothly these past two weeks. The two orders of imported goods that were originally stuck were both sold off at once. I went to the dock to check the accounts a couple of days ago, and I couldn't believe it myself. That channel you mentioned is truly miraculous."

After saying that, he bowed again, as if afraid that he was not respectful enough and would spoil this hard-won good fortune.

Upon seeing this, the fat boss next to him immediately stepped forward, his chubby face beaming with a smile.

"Who says otherwise! Master, my restaurant used to be losing money every single day. You told me to make the back door smaller, cover the drain, and move the signboard half a foot to the left, and I thought it was too much trouble. But how long has it been? The private rooms upstairs are starting to get monthly bookings. Yesterday, a big customer even booked three tables at once. Hey, the money's coming in like water."

As he spoke, he casually placed a gold chain on the table, looking as if he wanted to offer up his most valuable possessions.

The two men in plainclothes, who had initially maintained a certain air of importance, were starting to lose their composure after hearing what the two men in front had said. The older one coughed and lowered his voice, saying:

"Master, the case you predicted for me has come true. The person who was originally keeping an eye on me in the bureau has made a mistake these past few days, and he's been reprimanded three times in a row. Now the tide has turned, and things are much easier for me. So... do you think I can take another step forward?"

After hearing this, the Eight-Faced Buddha lowered his eyelids slightly, but the prayer beads in his hand moved even slower.

He knew very well that these people weren't all there to express gratitude; they were more interested in testing the waters, exploring whether his approach could be taken a step further. Once people tasted a bit of success, they were no longer satisfied with just a little. Today they come to worship Buddha, tomorrow they'll dare to come to borrow their lives; today they come seeking obedience, tomorrow they'll dare to come seeking ruthlessness.

Hong Kong is a place that has no shortage of people like this.

His smile grew even gentler, but his tone remained slow and deliberate.

"Feng shui is just borrowing momentum, not creating momentum out of thin air. How much you can gain ultimately depends on whether you can handle it."

These words were phrased tactfully, sounding both like a reminder and a warning. The visitors, far from feeling discouraged, nodded in agreement, as if they had gleaned a deeper meaning from them.

The jeweled woman approached, her perfume mingling with sandalwood, creating a somewhat odd scent. She brushed a strand of hair behind her ear and chuckled softly:

"Buddha, I didn't believe in these things before. But ever since I moved that old cabinet that's been sitting in the house for over ten years, as you suggested, my husband hasn't been waking up in the middle of the night anymore. He's coming home earlier now, and he's even cut off contact with that little vixen outside. Don't you think this counts as a good deed?"

The people around him laughed, their laughter tinged with knowing lewdness. The Eight-Faced Buddha, however, remained unhurried, merely nodding slightly, as if all the worldly riches, power, and lust were nothing but fleeting clouds to him.

In reality, however, the unease in his heart did not dissipate much because of these people's praise.

On the contrary, it was precisely because these people came one by one to report good news and give gifts that he understood even more clearly that if all these events were to go so smoothly, then his mental turmoil last night should not have come so irrationally.

Especially the deal with the Pei family.

Logically speaking, with the Five Ghosts position suppressing wealth, the doorway attracting misfortune, money buried under the cabinet, and the altered talisman under the ancestral portrait table used to ignite a fire of windfall wealth, once this arrangement is activated, the head of the household will at least be restless, and at worst, the family will fall into chaos. If this drags on for another month or so, one more member of the Pei family will inevitably fall. But strangely enough, not only did the Pei family not continue to decline, but my own side was the first to be plagued by distracting thoughts, and I couldn't even sit still while meditating.

Thinking of this, the Eight-Faced Buddha paused almost imperceptibly at the tip of his finger.

Qiu Wu, standing at the very back, noticed the pause and his heart clenched. He knew the inside story. The Pei family deal should have been a sure thing; but yesterday, Master Zhou returned with a grim face, saying that the shrine had been completely dismantled, even the talisman under the ancestral portrait had been dug up. What was even more troublesome was that young Master Chen, who had emerged from Sham Shui Po, didn't seem like someone who only knew how to dismantle facades.

Qiu Wu wanted to find a moment to speak with the Buddha alone, but with so many people crowding the temple, he couldn't bring himself to speak.

He didn't say anything, and the Eight-Faced Buddha seemed to have completely forgotten the troubles of yesterday, still smiling as he collected the incense and listened to the people's flattery.

"As expected of Buddha."

"The gentlemen elsewhere in Hong Kong are like children playing house compared to you."

"If there's another event, we'll naturally come back to see Master Buddha."

"With the Buddha overseeing things, everyone's path to wealth is secure..."

One compliment after another, like sugar-coated sweets. If it were anyone else, they would probably have been overwhelmed by the flattery.

Although the smile on the face of the Eight-Faced Buddha did not fade, his eyes grew increasingly dim.

Because he knew that the least valuable thing in the world was these people's mouths.

Today they praise you like a Buddha, but tomorrow, if you lose control of the situation, they will be the first to turn their backs on you.

As darkness fell, the noise from the outer fortress gradually subsided.

As these groups of people left one by one, filled with satisfaction and greed, the temple fell silent once more. The sandalwood incense burned down to its last bit, the grayish-white section bending gently downwards.

until night.

A figure stood in front of the small Buddhist temple, the Eight-Faced Buddha.

Chen Qinghe was standing at the door.

The village was dimly lit, but he stood very straight, wearing an old blue cloth shirt.

The sparse moonlight outside the door was cut into thin streaks by the tangled lines overhead, falling on one side of his shoulder, which made his eyes appear exceptionally clear.

The temple fell silent.