Chapter Fourteen: The Beautiful Miss Xiao

Next, everyone sat together with Chen Pin to chat. Elder He gave a detailed account of He Zhixing and his grandfather’s purpose in coming here, and the group learned that He Zhixing had come to study. As they grew more familiar, their conversation flowed easily.

Whenever the topic turned to feng shui, the Eight Trigrams, the Book of Changes, and fortune-telling, Elder Chen would speak at length, weaving story after story. He talked about which families in the Five Towns had the best feng shui, whose ancestral tombs lay on auspicious land, and so on. In these matters, he was truly a master. Along the way, he mentioned his eldest son, echoing the words he had muttered upon arrival. His son was now in business, renting vehicles in rural areas to collect timber and bamboo poles for construction—quite a profitable venture.

He Zhixing listened to him with longing, and Elder Chen went on to explain more, speaking of physiognomy: external appearance springs from the heart, and its nature determines one's career, temperament, and destiny. The birth of one's appearance, wisdom, and character all follow the natural law.

Right then, He Zhixing asked Elder Chen to read his face. Chen did not hesitate, immediately examining his palm. At the sight of his palm lines, he exclaimed in surprise, “A turtle-patterned wave with a triangular money line—such rare lines, such rare fortune!”

He then observed He Zhixing’s features: sword-like brows, a high and prominent nose, a broad and slightly angular forehead, an elegant and distinctive face overall. Elder Chen could not help but cry out, “Excellent—such a remarkable face!” In ancient times, the saying went that a dynasty’s fortune was not bound by lineage; those with extraordinary features often achieved extraordinary things.

He Zhixing grinned foolishly, “Really? That can’t be. Elder Chen, do these things truly have a basis?” He Zhixing still doubted, for Elder Chen knew nothing of the strange encounters he’d had since childhood—how could he divine his unusual fate just by reading his appearance?

Elder Chen glanced at He Zhixing’s silly smile, rolled his eyes, and picked up a copy of "The Classic of Ma Yi Physiognomy" from the table, handing it to him. He Zhixing reached out, opened the book, and began to read, starting from the first section’s general chart song, then the luck song, the luck formulas, the limit song, the Twelve Palaces, and so forth. He immediately grew fond of it. “Elder Chen, could I borrow this to read for a while?” he asked.

Elder Chen agreed without hesitation. He was delighted that someone took an interest in these arcane subjects—after all, the heritage of Chinese classical culture needed someone to carry it forward.

After chatting for an hour or two, He Zhixing returned, bathed, and lay in bed reading. He was engrossed in the "Classic of Ma Yi Physiognomy" when the neighbor’s beautiful zither music drifted over. It was not too late—just after nine o’clock. In the countryside, nights come early, and most sleep around nine or ten.

The melody flowed gently, carrying the tune of "The Moon on the Fifteenth Night." It was the first time he’d heard someone play this piece. It conjured visions of his beautiful hometown: children gathered at the edge of the fields, joyfully frolicking. Memories of childhood nights and happiness returned, and thoughts of his parents, lost at a young age, filled his mind. Were they happy in heaven? Unconsciously, tears blurred his eyes.

A gentle breeze stroked the rippling river, waves sparkling endlessly.

An empty cup faces the dim moon; longing is hidden, severing the heart.

Perhaps, to shed tears is a kind of beauty. Some people never dwell too much on gain or loss. A melancholy heart does not regret even in utter despair; pain itself is a kind of grasp. The sky, at that moment, held such colors—those who quietly add beauty to the world with their sincerity! In a haze, He Zhixing drifted off to sleep.

The next morning, as soon as dawn touched the sky, He Zhixing rose to exercise. He was used to waking early, and the mountain air was fresh. He’d run since elementary school, following the path behind his middle school up into the hills, slipping into a hidden spot to practice amphibious martial arts until full daylight.

Returning to the gate, he saw a beautiful girl coming out of Deputy Director Xiao’s house—like a fairy, ethereal and stunning. Yet, when He Zhixing stared at her, she looked back with icy indifference. Her lovely eyes seemed veiled in frost, chilling to the bone.

He Zhixing simply smiled and went inside. He had no intention of provoking such a cold beauty. In his eyes, no matter how beautiful a girl, even the coldest heart would someday show gentle warmth—if only to the lucky one who could reach it. He wondered if that might be himself.

The story continues, ever refreshing with the newest chapters.