The old lady said: “Right! Right! Right! Good child.”
I said: “Mm, I have no other skills, just know how to divine. Auntie, who are you having me read for? Yourself?”
The old lady said: “No. I’m almost in the ground. No need for a reading. Please look at my son, see how he’ll do these two years. Are there obstacles or disasters?”
This sentence directly revealed that her son definitely hadn’t been doing well these past two years, and when the old lady said this, her voice was trembling.
I said: “Auntie, you need to tell me your son’s birthday—which year, which month, which day, what hour?”
Actually this was just acting. How to interpret it, what to say—I’d already thought it through!
After the old lady reported her son’s birth date and time, I began calculating on my fingers, rolling my eyes back. I saw the old lady waiting anxiously.
“Auntie, your son has a water fate. These past two years he’s been conflicting with Tai Sui, not very smooth.” After speaking, I waited for her to respond, to see how she’d react. According to the pattern, it would basically be an affirmative answer. If it was negative, it didn’t matter. I said “these two years,” which could also include this year. This year just started and hasn’t ended yet. If she denied it, I’d say it would be seen in the second half of the year.
The old lady sighed: “Yes.”
I immediately said: “Auntie, your son is a filial son!”
This sentence hit the mark almost every time, because parents love their children ten-fold, and if children return even one-fold to their parents, the parents feel their child is filial. Moreover, unfilial children are a minority anyway. If her son were a disloyal, unfilial ingrate, she wouldn’t be this sad, much less have his fortune told.
The old lady shed tears: “Yes, my son, he’s so good to me. Tall, strong, filial.”
I saw tears in the old lady’s eyes. I continued: “These past two years he’s been affected by the Running Horse Star!”
The old lady asked: “What star?”
I said loudly: “The Running Horse Star means running east and west, exhausting and bitter.” In that era, to make a living, who wasn’t running east and west!
Tears fell from the old lady’s eyes: “Yes, he was conscripted last year. To this day I don’t know if he’s dead or alive.”
Seeing the old lady cry, I actually cried too. I don’t know if it was for her or for myself.
Seeing me cry, the old lady took a dirty handkerchief, wiping my tears while saying: “Child, don’t cry. Child, don’t cry.”
I said: “Auntie, I feel sad for you.”
The old lady said: “Good child, good child.”
I said: “Auntie, your son is in difficulty now, very dangerous.”
The old lady said in alarm: “What’s wrong? Is he still alive?”
I said: “Alive, he’s alive, just too dangerous. Those bullets on the battlefield don’t have eyes. This calamity must be resolved. If not resolved, he won’t come back!”
The old lady was greatly shocked: “Quickly resolve it, how do we resolve it?”
I said: “Get a piece of red cloth and write your son’s name on it. At midnight tonight, tie it to a large locust tree. Say: ‘Great locust tree, great locust tree, my son acknowledges you as his godmother. Protect my son from harm.’ Then kowtow three times, come back and cover the red cloth over the chicken coop, and that’s it. Auntie, remember clearly.” The more vividly you describe disaster resolution, the more real it seems. This method of acknowledging large trees as godmothers and water dustpans as godfathers were commonly used by fortune-tellers.
The old lady said: “This will protect him from trouble?”
I said: “Auntie, that’s not enough yet. Your son has killed too many people on the battlefield. Those he killed will also demand his life.”
The old lady began worrying again: “Then what do we do?”
I said: “You must do good deeds on his behalf. Do more good deeds—good is rewarded with good!”
The old lady said: “Right! Right! Right! Child, you speak correctly! How do I help him do this?”
I said: “Donate some incense money on his behalf. I’ll help you send it to the temple. I’ve revealed heavenly secrets, so I must also help donate. Once donated, all will be well. At the latest, next spring, your son will return!”
The old lady smiled, lips pressed together, happily went back to her room. After a long while she brought out two “big white strips.” Big white strips were a term for fiat currency. Because of hyperinflation, they were nearly worthless!
I said: “Auntie, this money can’t be spent outside now. Many places don’t accept it. I can’t use it for incense money. We can’t deceive the Buddha.”
The old lady said awkwardly: “Oh, I still have a few copper coins.”
Following Zu Ye’s teaching, silver dollars and copper coins were all accepted. With this hard currency in hand, it didn’t matter how the Nationalist government reformed.
I took the copper coins. Looking, there were only three. I said: “Auntie, if you really don’t have any, forget it. I’ll contribute for you.”
The old lady hurriedly said: “That won’t do, that won’t do. Child, wait. I still have some new cloth that hasn’t been cut.” The old lady rummaged in her room for quite a while, then brought out a roll of blue cloth from the bottom of her trunk—the kind of dyed blue coarse cloth rural people used for quilt covers.
I said: “This will do, Auntie. I’ll donate it all for you.”
The old lady was so happy she couldn’t close her mouth: “What luck to meet you, child! What luck!”
After speaking, she led me out the door, then slowly said: “Child, be careful on the road. There’s a well at the village entrance.”
I said: “I know, Auntie.”
I walked out of the village with my bamboo pole, pretending. All the way I ran, all the way I cried.
The first time working a scene yielded very little. Apart from those two “big white strips” that could be ignored, it was just a few feet of coarse cloth and three copper coins.
But it was still more than the other two new hands hooked. Of those two, one got nothing and was even cursed at. The other, fearing blame from Zu Ye and the Batou, actually stole an iron sledgehammer used for stakes in someone’s apricot orchard at the village entrance to deliver something.
Zu Ye said: “We are ‘xiang,’ not thieves! If you work an empty scene, come back empty. Thieving is not to be done!”
That frightened Little Foot quickly knelt down, repeatedly admitting his error.
Zu Ye said: “It’s not your fault. Er Batou!”
Er Batou immediately stepped forward and knelt: “Zu Ye!”
Zu Ye said: “Your foot—you must lead them well!” He roared until Er Batou’s head was covered in sweat.
Every time we returned from working scenes, we had to report in detail. First, to count the roe deer; second, to avoid collision scenes next time. Each Batou kept accounts, but none could out-calculate the account in Zu Ye’s heart.