One divination a day, a trainee celestial master

"Can I refuse to accept it?" In the courtyard of the old house, Jiang Shou leaned back in a bamboo chair, looking at the bunch of brass keys with a lifeless expression.

"Okay. If you don't want it, wait for the court to come and put up the seal in a few days." Jiang's father nodded. "But your grandfather told me before he passed away that there are some things in the temple that were specially left for you."

"If you still don't want to stay in the temple after you take it, then forget it." Jiang's father paused for a moment: "But this is the only inheritance your grandfather left in this world."

Jiang Shou fell silent. Although he usually seemed carefree, he still felt a little uneasy about handing over the place that the old man had guarded his whole life.

Jiang Shou took a deep drag on his Hongtashan cigarette, the smoke swirling in front of his eyes for a moment, then stood up and patted his pants.

"Okay, I'll go take a look." He paused, then added, "It's mainly to make this trip on behalf of my grandfather, to show my filial piety. It has nothing to do with any gifts or anything like that."

Jiang's father didn't speak, but simply bowed his head and tapped his cigarette ash.

……

Half an hour later, Jiang Shou rode the dilapidated three-wheeled motorcycle that his father usually used to transport aquatic products, chugging along the winding mountain road towards the western suburbs.

Halfway up Cuiwei Mountain, in front of the "Shouyi Temple".

Jiang Shou stopped his tricycle and looked at the "heritage" in front of him. Half of the paint on the two vermilion doors had fallen off, and the left door was even missing half a corner, barely held together by a piece of old building wood.

The plaque above the entrance hangs askew, and the two characters "Shouyi" are almost illegible due to the erosion of wind and rain.

The courtyard wall was covered with withered, yellow ivy, which looked even more desolate as a mountain breeze blew by. It had the air of a ghostly scene from a Chinese ghost story.

"What kind of auspicious place is this... This lousy place is worth 250,000?" Jiang Shou took out the brass key and inserted it into the rusty brass lock.

"Click." Pushing open the door, a bit of dust rushed out.

The courtyard was overgrown with weeds, and in the center stood a large bronze cauldron filled with rainwater, with a few fallen leaves floating on the surface.

Jiang Shougang was about to walk inside when his gaze suddenly stopped.

On the high wooden threshold of the main hall, a large, plump orange cat was lying. Hearing the door open, the cat only lifted one eyelid, giving Jiang Shou a disdainful glance before turning over and turning its fluffy, fat rear end towards him, continuing to snore.

"Holy crap, this cat's still alive..." Jiang Shou muttered. In his memory, this orange cat had been perched on this doorstep since he was about seven or eight years old. Considering its age, it must be practically a spirit by now!

Jiang Shou ignored the arrogant fat cat and stepped across the threshold into the main hall. As soon as he entered, he froze.

"Wow!" The house looks like a haunted house that could collapse at any moment from the outside, but the inside is a completely different story.

The main hall has indeed been renovated at great expense. Not only were the new, sturdy beams replaced, but the paintings on the statues of the Three Pure Ones were also repainted, making them look solemn, bright, and lifelike.

In one corner of the main hall, there was even a Gree cabinet air conditioner, with two red fire extinguishers next to it.

The red light on the socket in the corner indicates that not only is there electricity here, but the water pipes have also been newly installed.

Although the altar in front of the statue was covered with a layer of ash, and there were only a few half-burnt incense sticks left in the incense burner, the standard of the hall's interior decoration was definitely not bad.

Jiang Shou looked around and couldn't help but click his tongue in amazement. The small kitchen connected to the side room was tiled with white ceramic tiles, and tap water flowed out directly when the faucet was turned on. There was even a brand-new electric water heater installed in the toilet.

"The old man has spent all 250,000 on the 'inner workings' of this place." Jiang Shou stroked his chin. This deal doesn't seem too bad. At least if this place is cleaned up, it will definitely be more comfortable than that basement in Shanghai that costs 800 yuan a month and where you have to queue to use the toilet.

Jiang Shou walked around the main hall and along the corridor to the side rooms in the backyard. That was where his grandfather had lived.

Pushing open the wooden door, the room was simply furnished: a hardboard bed, an old-fashioned solid wood wardrobe, and a large, antique-looking desk. Jiang Shou tossed his duffel bag to the ground, rolled up his sleeves, and began sorting through his grandfather's belongings.

There weren't many clothes; they were mostly faded Taoist robes and a few old-fashioned Zhongshan suits. The drawer contained some yellowed books, calligraphy brushes, miscellaneous items, and a tattered whisk with its bristles falling off.

"Huh, where's the baby? Didn't you say you'd saved something for me?" Jiang Shou searched for ages, sweating profusely, even lifting the sheets, but found nothing.

Finally, he lay face down on the floor, reached his hand deep under the bed, and finally touched a heavy camphor wood chest.

"We have it!" Jiang Shou's eyes lit up, and he quickly dragged out the dusty camphor wood box.

The box wasn't locked; it was just casually tied together with a red rope.

Jiang Shou sat cross-legged on the ground, untied the red rope, and lifted the lid.

On top of it were several yellowed talismans, the paper so brittle it seemed they would crumble at the slightest touch, and the scribbles were completely illegible.

Remove the talisman, and underneath are two sets of high-quality cyan Taoist robes that look brand new and unworn, with a very smooth fabric to the touch.

Beneath the two sets of Taoist robes lay a square box tightly wrapped in red cloth. Jiang Shou's eyes lit up, and his heart began to race. "Wrapped so securely, could it contain a bankbook? Or gold?"

With trembling hands, he untied the red cloth layer by layer. Inside was a small square box, about the size of a palm.

The box is made of dense wood with a beautiful grain, resembling precious huanghuali wood, and emits a faint, delicate fragrance. A fine brass clasp fastens to the front of the square box.

"This is something! We're going to make a fortune!" Jiang Shouxi beamed and reached out to pry open the brass clasp.

"Ouch—Holy crap!" The moment his finger touched the brass clasp, his fingertip snapped with pain. Jiang Shou jerked his hand back as if electrocuted, and upon closer inspection, he saw that his index finger had been cut, with thin streaks of bright red blood seeping out.

Jiang Shou picked up the small square box and took a closer look. He saw that the inside of the brass clasp was covered with a dense row of extremely tiny barbs, which were almost invisible if one did not look closely.

Jiang Shou chuckled in exasperation as he sucked on his fingers: "That old geezer, he even put a row of barbs on this lousy box, trying to protect his own grandson from thieves, huh!"

Jiang Shou took out his key and carefully used the tip to pry open the brass clasp. "Click." The box opened.

Jiang Shou peered out with great anticipation, but the smile on his face instantly froze.

There was no bankbook, nor any gold. On the yellow silk mat, there lay only a palm-sized, shiny black wooden plaque.

The wooden plaque was neither metal nor wood; it was cool to the touch and had a slightly heavy feel. Two large characters were engraved on the front in ancient seal script. Jiang Shou stared at it for a long time before he could barely make out that they were the characters "岁寒" (Sui Han).

"This is it?" Jiang Shou was greatly disappointed. He picked up the wooden plaque, turned it over and examined it, and couldn't help but mutter, "This dark, unremarkable thing, could it even sell for two hundred yuan at Panjiayuan?"

He sighed and rubbed his thumb on the card.

What he didn't notice was that a few drops of blood had stained the edge of the wooden sign where his index finger had been cut by the thorn. The blood was absorbed instantly by the strange wooden sign, as if it had been dripped into a dry sponge.

The next second, the previously motionless black wooden plaque suddenly emitted a faint blue light from the two characters "岁寒" on its front!

"Holy crap!" Jiang Shou was startled, his hand trembled, and he almost threw the wooden sign away.

Then, something even more chilling happened. On the blank space on the back of the wooden plaque, as if swiftly sliced ​​by an invisible carving knife, accompanied by an extremely faint "rustling" sound, several lines of tiny, shimmering characters slowly emerged:

[The Li hexagram, line 1, auspicious.]

[At the hour of You (5-7 PM) today, walk 500 steps southwest and cross the stone bridge.]

[A windfall has arrived, which can solve an immediate crisis.]

Jiang Shou: "...?"