TGA Chapter 23

Standing outside the tightly shut bedroom door, Chu Qianli lingered quietly for a long while before leisurely wandering back to her own room.

After washing up, she glanced at her phone to check the time. Suddenly, she remembered that she had stayed up all night stargazing. Now would be the perfect time to do her daily divination. She sat down at her desk and began shuffling her cards skillfully, sticking to the same question she had asked for years.

Changing one’s destiny requires the right timing, just like the branching point for He Shichen leaving home. If Chu Qianli wanted to change her own fate, she would have to wait for her opportunity to arise. Until then, there was no use in being anxious.

The answer revealed by the cards on the table hadn’t changed.

Sitting cross-legged on her chair, Chu Qianli sighed helplessly. “Seriously, it’s like I won’t act until I’m on my last bit of health. Do I really have to wait until there’s hardly any time left?”

She unlocked her phone and noticed that the predictive chart from earlier was still open, along with He Shichen’s star chart.

She casually switched to her own chart and began analyzing it alongside the current astrological transits.

How many years did she have left now? Two? Three?

In her previous life, she hadn’t made it to twenty. Maybe she’d live a bit longer this time. At least she had spent her first seventeen years traveling and doing fortune-telling with her grandfather.

Chu Qianli was exceptionally gifted in astrology. Generally speaking, people with strong energies in the 8th and 12th houses tend to excel in metaphysics, spirituality, and related fields.

However, every gift comes with its shadow. Just as fate often balances out blessings with shortcomings, an overly dominant 8th house could manifest through unfortunate means, such as a short lifespan.

Chu Qianli didn’t know the ending of the original female supporting character in the story, but she knew one thing for certain: she had never lived to a ripe old age. Having died young in her last life, she had somehow grown accustomed to the idea.

This wasn’t a matter of giving up—it was simply that she didn’t dwell on things she’d never had. The key was figuring out how to make the best of the cards she did have.

Through her astrological talents, she had gained much. But it was also these very talents that threatened her life. This was her life’s test.

She had to keep using this gift, delving deeper into more advanced knowledge. Only by harnessing the energy released through astrology to surpass her natural talents could she hope to escape the calamity tied to her destiny.

The eighth house is the house of transformation, tied to karma. Whether it’s karma brought by metaphysics or by life and death, it always manifests in some form.

Although she didn’t successfully overcome her tribulation in her past life, she still firmly believes that fate can be changed. She no longer needs to compete with her peers; her only opponent is fate itself.

The lifespan of humans compared to starlight is like a fleeting spark, so transient that even humanity’s collective existence is brief. Yet, she still wants to dance wildly before the fire burns out. As long as she hasn’t extinguished, she will keep moving forward.

If she wins by chance, this life will be complete.

If she loses, there’s no regret—she can afford to lose.

Others only have about a hundred years; she just has slightly less, but that doesn’t mean she hasn’t lived well.

The He family is a lineage with sparse descendants. This is evident from He Yuanyang not marrying. Chu Qianli isn’t certain about her future, so she wants to keep He Shichen as insurance.

Her grandfather might understand these things, but her parents might not. While she has an open-minded attitude, she still has to consider her family.

The sun rises, the moon sets, and all things cycle.

Morning light softly spills into the room. Chu Qianli puts on her school uniform, packs her bag, smooths her growing hair in front of the mirror, and joyfully welcomes a new day.

“Good morning, little short-lived ghost.”

In the classroom, Chu Qianli lies lazily on her desk, too sleepy to open her eyes, feeling as if her whole body is floating. She was energetic when she got up, but as soon as she reached the classroom, she began to wilt, likely a side effect of staying up late.

Tan Muxing asked curiously, “You seem particularly tired today?”

“Last night, I went outside to stargaze,” Chu Qianli drowsily rubbed her eyes, unable to resist dozing off.

“Stargazing? Was it beautiful?”

“Look at the air!”

“…”

Qiu Qingkong bounced over cheerfully. She proudly showed off her phone screen and boasted about the video stats to the two of them: “Ta-da! Look at our latest video’s view count!”

Chu Qianli squinted sleepily, “Look at it for me.”

Tan Muxing dutifully reported, “The views have increased several times?”

Chu Qianli: “Noted.”

“…” Dissatisfied with Chu Qianli’s indifferent response, Qiu Qingkong tugged at her, “Teacher, take a look! Just one look!”

Chu Qianli forced herself to perk up, stared at the video stats for a moment, and then flopped back down, replying dismissively, “Uh-huh, I’ve seen it. You’re amazing.”

Qiu Qingkong: “?” Is this the legendary master of brushing people off?

Tan Muxing, seeing that Qiu Qingkong was about to pull her classmate again, quickly stepped in as the mediator and asked, “Why did the views suddenly surge?”

Qiu Qingkong boasted, “Because my promotional skills are excellent!”

Tan Muxing: “But I remember the views weren’t high initially?”

Qiu Qingkong: “It was growing too slowly the past couple of days. I got tired of refreshing and just asked you for funding to buy some promotion.”

Most of Chu Qianli’s income from divination was taken by Qiu Qingkong, with a portion left with Tan Muxing for promotional expenses and related supplies, like printing price lists.

Qiu Qingkong made videos purely out of passion, but the slow growth of a new account annoyed her. Frustrated, she resorted to classic entertainment industry tactics and spent money on video promotions.

Chu Qianli lifted her eyes, “That’s not promotional skill. That’s monetary skill—money with a capital M.”

“This is absolutely promotional skill. I’ve seen famous diviners on certain platforms do the same thing. They even manage their Weibo and public accounts. Some go even further by opening stores to sell products,” Qiu Qingkong retorted. “We’re professional enough not to sell anything or push products. Buying a little promotion is nothing.”

Qiu Qingkong often refreshed videos on certain platforms. She felt that the three of them weren’t doing divination for money. Although Chu Qianli claimed to love money, her fees weren’t exorbitant. Last time, she didn’t even charge Zhou Qiang much.

Qiu Qingkong was purely pursuing her interests. Before meeting Chu Qianli, she already loved mysticism. Tan Muxing, on the other hand, didn’t believe in it at all and was just tagging along.

“So many people say our videos are super accurate, like private divination-level accurate!” Qiu Qingkong said excitedly. “We just need a bit of promotion now. Once we accumulate more viewers, we won’t need it anymore!”

Qiu Qingkong was driven by enthusiasm. With an increasing audience, her creative passion soared.

She not only urged Chu Qianli to record the next video but also referred private divination requests to her and hoped Tan Muxing could create new promotional graphics.

Ever since Chu Qianli came to the city, she’d never been short of divination work, mostly thanks to Qiu Qingkong’s overwhelming promotional talent.

Chu Qianli might perform divinations, charge fees, and collect feedback, but Qiu Qingkong was different. Through the videos, she made friends and met various mysticism enthusiasts.

Qiu Qingkong loved sharing information and making connections—this was how the energy in her birth chart expressed itself. Though Chu Qianli had long known this, experiencing it firsthand still left her reflective.

Chu Qianli said, “No wonder so many companies like to hire fans of stars.”

Tan Muxing asked, “Why?”

“Passion-driven people work harder than money-driven ones.”

“…”

The newest video from the channel Magic Card Girl Squad was titled “Your Financial Luck in the Next Month.” With Chu Qianli gaining some fame for private online readings, the new video garnered more bullet comments, and the comment section was buzzing.

[Claiming good fortune!!]

[This and the last video were spot-on. I suggest making the next one about true love traits~]

[The assistant said they wouldn’t do it for now. Seems like the teacher thinks long-term general readings aren’t accurate.]

[Is this account run by two people?]

[Three, I think. I remember there’s someone who shoots the videos.]

[If you want to know about true love, you can get a private reading. But they only look at birth charts for adults, and the teacher’s prices are super reasonable! Students even get a discount!]

[TBH, the price is low and the readings are accurate. I’ve tried a lot of diviners, and this one has real skills. But if you consult them too often, they’ll roast you for being addicted and superstitious. Tears.]

[The teacher is forever a legend! They’re so witty, too!]

[…Last time I complimented them as a legend during a tarot session, and they replied they’re a Marxist??]

[Divination plus Marxist education—absolutely worth the money. Accuracy doesn’t even matter; I just want the Marxist insights.]

Chu Qianli generally charges her clients proportionally based on their financial situation. For example, a wealthy classmate at school can casually pull out a large sum of money, while a farmer in the village may not be able to earn that much no matter how much they harvest.

This doesn’t mean the latter doesn’t respect Chu Qianli’s work; they simply can’t afford to pay more.

Sometimes, Chu Qianli and her grandfather in the village would accept eggs or grains instead of money. They couldn’t take nothing, but they also couldn’t accept only money.

She charges based on her mood, and her divination is the same. Occasionally, when she encounters people who consult her for everything, she would lecture them about not being superstitious. Over time, she earned the reputation of being a temperamental diviner. Her predictions were indeed accurate, and since her fees weren’t unreasonable, even those who were scolded tolerated it because what she said made sense.

Many of her clients promoted Magic Card Girl Squad in bullet comments and comment sections as fans. Most of them were people interested in this field and had consulted many diviners privately. Naturally, they could compare and judge, and they praised Chu Qianli’s fortune-telling skills.

The number of famous divination creators on the platform was limited. As more and more viewers praised Magic Card Girl Squad, Chu Qianli and her team inevitably began to threaten others’ territory.

At school, Qiu Qingkong was happily watching their rising follower count on the platform. Suddenly, she received a video from a fellow enthusiast. It was an update from another divination creator, and she was shocked as she clicked on it. After watching it, she was furious.

Moments later, Qiu Qingkong sought out Chu Qianli and Tan Muxing to share her outrage. She angrily played the video out loud: “Sure enough, the more popular you get, the more drama comes your way. Even these nobodies want to leech off us. Look at this!”

On the phone screen, a female diviner shuffled cards while chatting. Her tone was calm but laced with sarcasm:
“There’s a lot of mediocrity in this field. Many people with no real skills dare to make videos. Back then, we used to record and edit everything ourselves. Now, some teams openly buy promotions and operate with several people—how shameless. Everyone should keep their eyes open…”

“Some people charge low fees, but you get what you pay for. This work takes a lot of spiritual energy. A diviner can only do a limited number of readings daily. Do you think someone would exhaust themselves at a low price to help you? If they’re doing many readings a day, it’s either a marketing ploy or a team effort!”

The bullet comments had many agreeing with the female diviner.

[Here’s a link to mksnxfd. Anyone who wants to pay for stupidity tax can go. Anyone with basic knowledge can see through this.]
[I’ve been a fan of Yahun for years. Some of these new creators are really no good—completely dependent on buying promotions.]
[Who knows if it’s a human or a bot behind the screen? The high output next door is definitely a team effort, probably rookies practicing.]

Tan Muxing leaned in curiously: “Whose video is this?”

Qiu Qingkong coldly replied, “Some C-list diviner.”

Tan Muxing glanced at her stats and questioned, “But she has more followers than us?”

Qiu Qingkong snapped angrily, “She’s still a C-list!”

Chu Qianli, puzzled, remarked, “She’s not wrong, though?”

She didn’t fully agree with the statement, but it seemed to make some sense.

Qiu Qingkong was indignant. “Teacher, she’s subtly throwing shade at us! This person loves to play this game. There used to be another diviner who was as famous as her, but she tore them apart until they stopped posting videos. Back then, she criticized them for charging exorbitantly!”

“Now that we charge less, she says you get what you pay for. Apparently, she always has something to say!”

Qiu Qingkong had been following diviners on the platform for a while. The female diviner in the video was named Yahun, with a platform ID of Yahun Tarot.

Qiu Qingkong used to admire another female diviner. She even had a reading done by her and found it accurate, though the pricing wasn’t friendly.

Later, Yahun publicly posted a video criticizing the other diviner’s fees and incited many viewers to attack her in the comments. This forced the diviner to quit the scene entirely.

Qiu Qingkong deeply regretted this outcome, believing that the other diviner played right into Yahun’s hands. Not long after, Yahun slightly increased her own fees, and to this day, her rates far exceeded the other diviner’s.

Chu Qianli was more accurate than that diviner, yet her fees were even lower. Now Yahun had changed her tune, claiming that cheap services were subpar.

Qiu Qingkong was livid. Her teacher was noble and not lacking money. Why should this charlatan get to slander them!?

“Ugh, I know you’re angry, but I’ve encountered this so many times…” Chu Qianli pretended to wipe away tears. “Waaaah, so many of my peers used to call me a fake goody-goody. I don’t even know what makes me a fake goody-goody!”

Being criticized by her peers wasn’t new to Chu Qianli. To be honest, her competitors were more hostile toward her than materialists were.

Tan Muxing asked blankly, “Does divination really consume spiritual energy?”

Yahun claimed ordinary diviners couldn’t handle many readings a day. Yet, Tan Muxing often saw Chu Qianli doing readings all day long.

Chu Qianli whimpered in mock grievance, “Waaah, how would I know? Maybe it does for ordinary people, but I can’t relate as a genius. It’s probably my fault…”

“Most people get tired after two or three readings a day. But I don’t, so what can I do? Of course, my fees are lower. Waaah, it’s all my fault…”

Tan Muxing: “…”