Bai Changming answered as calmly as still water. The Magistrate of Liuzhou had deliberately buried the official document before his ex-wife's grave, and now, emboldened by wine, sought to test him with this very detail.
Bai Changming responded methodically, yet it was as if he were observing ants from a great height—the twists and turns of human psychology never escaped his notice. Though he played the role of a humble guest, his demeanor was that of a detached spectator, the unseen master pulling the strings.
Then came the third question.
The man's eyes brimmed with desperate hope as his trembling right hand withdrew a yellowed portrait from his sleeve. "Young master, everyone here has witnessed your extraordinary skill. I've never believed in gods or spirits, but meeting you today... perhaps it's fate. This portrait is of my grandmother, who wandered off in a fit of madness two years ago. Can you divine when she might return?"
The raw sincerity in his voice, impossible to counterfeit, gave even Bai Changming pause. Blinking once, he nodded and accepted the portrait.
He cast the hexagram again: **Wind over Thunder (Yi)**.
The result was clear—an impossible task. The symbols pointed southeast, an omen of withering vegetation. It could mean only one thing: the woman in the portrait was no longer among the living.
Bai Changming chose a comforting lie. The man nodded eagerly, eyes glistening as he accepted the portrait back, promising to send search parties at once.
For the briefest moment, when their eyes met, Bai Changming felt something within him waver—the cold certainty with which he had always regarded fate.
He was not one to be swayed by emotion. Yet as the night wore on, he entertained more requests—predictions of fortune, the rise and fall of careers—each answer carefully measured. He laced his replies with esoteric terms, particularly those of astrology and the Five Elements.
He knew exactly what he was doing. One was Yang Renzhu's cherished obsession; the other, an irresistible lure for mortals craving certainty about their destinies. The higher one's status, the more deeply this truth was understood.
His goal was simple: to stir ripples in Governor Yang's heart.
When he left Moonview Pavilion, the sky blazed with stars. Fireworks burst overhead for the Orchid Nobility Festival, their fleeting brilliance lost on Bai Changming, who saw them merely as decorations for this transient existence.
He weighed the heavy silver ingot in his pocket, his sleeve now scrawled with hexagrams like a child's doodles. Everything proceeded as planned. The coin would suffice for months.
Having excused himself early, he did not return to the Astral Pavilion but lodged at a nearby inn. He purchased ancient texts and a set of brushes, then carefully refolded Shui Qian's map into his breast pocket.
As he did, the image of the official who had begged for his grandmother's whereabouts flickered through his mind. He shook his head. They belonged to different worlds. Life and death, gain and loss—what intersection could there ever be?
The festival streets stood empty, but behind closed doors, laughter and arguments, joy and sorrow, spilled out unchecked. Fireworks bloomed like distant goddesses, their brilliance fading only when the last ember died.
---
**"Sister, look! So many stars!"**
The boy, his head freshly bandaged, pointed excitedly at the sky.
Shui Qian held his hand, her gaze distant.
**"Sister, do you think... if the sky is this big, with so many stars, are there people up there? Can we say hello to them?"** His eyes shone like the stars themselves.
**"I don't know. But perhaps."** She knelt beside him, pointing them out one by one. **"That hazy river is the Milky Way—countless stars dwell there. The bright one is Vega. Further, like a triangle, is Lyra. Left of the moon, the brightest is Polaris. Right above us, the Big Dipper. And far to the right, Orion..."**
**"Sister, you know so much!"**
Shui Qian smiled faintly.
**"Enough for now. It's too cold, and your injury hasn't healed. Let's fetch your coat."** She led him inside.
The night sky kept its silence. The setting moon swayed with unspoken sorrow.