Chapter 17: Deciphering Fate

Pan Yu put away her smile, returning to that “faint, gentle smile” expression, and said, “Hanwen, you must tell me that story about Zhu Yingtai tonight. I want to know which young lady has you so captivated.”

Xu Xian lowered his head and sipped his tea, mumbling a vague response.

He changed the subject: “How do you all know when the First Snow Festival will be?” The First Snow Festival wasn’t fixed like Chongyang or Qingming; it was held on the day of the first snowfall each year, but weather is unpredictable, even in the modern world, forecasts aren’t always right. That’s what makes it so-called heaven’s will.

Li Siming looked at the two and said, “This matter, I think, will have to fall on your shoulders!” But in his heart, he was sighing, being beautiful is a good thing, it makes it easy to win goodwill and make friends, but for Pan Yu, whose looks could even sway men, it had become a kind of shackle. Pan Yu always gave Li Siming a strange sense of “wrongness.”

Li Siming remembered that whenever people gathered, Pan Yu was always the center of attention, but even when he was talking and laughing among the crowd, that sense of ethereal loneliness never lessened, only grew stronger. Like an actor on stage, expressing every emotion to perfection, yet not a single gesture, expression, or glance truly belonged to him.

Moments like today, when he showed a “flaw,” were something Li Siming hadn’t seen in a long time.

Xu Xian lounged in his chair and said, “What, you think we can tell fortunes? How could we know when it’ll snow!”

Li Siming took a sip of tea. “Of course you can’t tell fortunes, but you can find someone who can!”

“Huh?”

“So this world really does have weather forecasts!” Xu Xian stood in front of a Daoist temple, sighing deeply. Carrying twenty taels of academy funds, Xu Xian was here on a rather unbelievable mission, to find a fortune-teller to predict the first snowfall.

Isn’t it said that the Master did not speak of ghosts, strength, disorder, or spirits? But in a world where thousand-year snake demons exist, even the “Master” would be helpless! After all, the Four Books and Five Classics can’t predict the weather.

A black plaque hung above the Daoist temple’s gate, inscribed with the characters “Xuanji Temple,” giving it an imposing air. It was said that the most famous fortune-teller in Hangzhou was here, and his fees were not cheap, it cost twenty taels of silver just to predict the weather, which made Xu Xian seriously consider switching professions.

But this ancient temple wasn’t on some famous mountain or river; it was right in the bustling west side of Hangzhou city, surrounded by the constant noise of the market. At the small temple gate, several people were pacing, some richly dressed merchants, some poor peasants, all watching the door with anxious, expectant eyes, but not speaking to each other.

Pan Yu sighed, “To cultivate in a place like this, one must be either truly elegant or truly vulgar. I wonder which the master here is.”

The arrival of Xu Xian and Pan Yu immediately drew hostile looks from the others. Xu Xian was puzzled, but Pan Yu explained, “This fortune-teller only does three readings a day, never more. These people are probably afraid we’ll compete with them for a spot!”

“So what should we do?”

Pan Yu only smiled and walked forward. Xu Xian once again witnessed Pan Yu’s remarkable abilities, no less effective than magic. After all, even magic can’t change people’s hearts.

Pan Yu first approached a plump, wealthy-looking man and asked, “May I ask if you’re here for a reading?”

The merchant, seeing Pan Yu’s refined bearing, didn’t dare look down on him. “That’s right.”

“Fortune in business?”

The merchant thought: You can tell from my clothes, that’s nothing special. “Might as well tell you. I have a business deal I can’t decide on, and it affects my whole year’s prospects. You look like a scholar, didn’t Confucius teach you about first come, first served?” He was rather arrogant; in the Great Xia dynasty, commerce was developed, not suppressed as in Ming or Qing, so merchants had status, and he could act high and mighty before two poor scholars.

Pan Yu wasn’t annoyed. He asked, “I know a little about business. What kind of deal is it?”

The merchant, wanting to show off and not worried about trade secrets, explained: he was a porcelain merchant, planning to open a new kiln, but the investment was huge, if he lost, he’d be ruined.

Pan Yu said confidently, “You’ll make a profit.”

The merchant glared, “Go away if you don’t know what you’re talking about!”

Pan Yu asked, “Do you know Jin Wancheng?”

“Who doesn’t know the wealthy Jin Wancheng of Jiangsu-Zhejiang? I’ve done business with him.” The merchant was proud.

“Then do you know he recently bought two big ships?”

“Of course. I was invited to the maiden voyage.” The merchant looked proud, but in truth, he’d only gotten a low-level invitation and hadn’t even spoken to Jin Wancheng.

“Do you know why he bought those ships?”

“Uh…” The merchant hesitated, not wanting to lose face. “For trade, of course!”

“Right, but he already has enough ships. He doesn’t need such big ones for river transport.”

“You mean… sea trade?” The merchant looked thoughtful.

“Exactly. And do you remember the group of envoys from the Bana Kingdom who passed through Hangzhou a year ago?”

“Yes, yes! They were as black as coal, looked like demons from hell.”

“Our envoys just returned last month,” Pan Yu said with a slight smile.

“You mean… a new sea route, foreign trade?” With Pan Yu’s hints, the merchant connected the dots. This Jiangnan tycoon was taking a huge gamble, sea trade with foreign lands was risky, but the profits could be a hundred or a thousand times higher. When that happened, not just porcelain, but silk and tea would all go up in price. He couldn’t take the risk himself, but he could still get a taste of the profits by following along.

“I’m no fortune-teller. I haven’t said anything, and I guarantee nothing.”

The merchant bowed deeply to Pan Yu, all arrogance gone, and called out to his sedan bearers, “Let’s go, let’s go!” He handed Pan Yu his name card, “Sir, you must come to my house some day.” Then he hurried into his carriage and was carried away.

No amount of divination can compare to information in your own hands. People only rely on fate when they are powerless; most of the time, they trust in solid judgment.

Xu Xian was amazed. “You already knew all this?”

Pan Yu smiled, “I spend all day reading, how would I know? The Jin family’s steward sent me an invitation, but I declined.” To be invited by the steward meant a VIP seat, but Pan Yu wouldn’t waste half a day on such events; she was set on the official path, the broadest, deepest, and most dangerous road in the world.

“So why did he leave in such a hurry?”

“There are plenty of smart people in the world. News will spread quickly. Acting a moment sooner means real gold and silver, he can’t afford to wait.” Pan Yu explained everything calmly.

Xu Xian muttered to himself: Are you the transmigrator or am I? I really can’t understand how high-IQ people think!

In this way, Pan Yu resolved everyone else’s questions. The last one, though, was impossible, a thin peasant said his whole family had fallen ill, spent a fortune on doctors with no effect, and his mother was dying. Pan Yu was clever, but not a doctor, and could do nothing.

The peasant pleaded, “Please, sirs, have mercy! Look, I’m losing my hair, I’ve already had two readings today, I don’t know if I’ll last till tomorrow. Even if I can, my children can’t!”

Pan Yu thought for a long time, then sighed to Xu Xian, “This is what it means when human effort has its limits.”

“If you’re sick, you should see a doctor. If you can’t be cured, it’s because your doctor and his books aren’t good enough. Coming here is like climbing a tree to catch fish.”

Xu Xian, listening, suddenly thought of something and asked, “Are your symptoms hair loss and loose teeth?”

“How did you know?”

Xu Xian was even more sure. “Did you bring something home recently, like a stone or something?”

The peasant’s face tightened, wary, but said, “No, nothing.”

Xu Xian frowned, “Do you want your family to live or not? If you do, tell the truth.”

After some pressure, the peasant finally admitted: a few days ago, he’d found something in the fields, a stone cicada, clear and lustrous, like jade but not, looking very valuable.

“Could it be the Poisonous Ice Cicada?” Pan Yu interjected.