Chu Qianli gently wiped the red crystal compass and then carefully placed it into her backpack. After all, this was her grandfather’s relic. Regardless of whether it had any use, she would never intentionally break it.
“I heard loud noises inside just now,” Tan Muxing said with concern. “Is everything alright?”
“People are fine, it’s just the newly bought compass that’s in trouble,” Chu Qianli scratched her chin, hesitating. “No, actually, I’m fine, but whether he’s fine is uncertain.”
Chu Qianli’s backpack contained two compasses: her grandfather’s red crystal compass and a new, ordinary one. She had handed the red crystal compass to Tan Muxing at the door, and after entering the room, she deliberately sat down, placing the backpack in a specific spot so that the positions of Wan Ketan, the ordinary compass, and the red crystal compass were all aligned in a straight line.
The divination and search for items provided characteristics and directions. Since the two compasses were similar in features and were placed in the same direction, it naturally caused some confusion. Wan Ketan believed Chu Qianli wouldn’t leave her important possessions behind, so he was certain that the Haomen compass was in her backpack, thus confirming his assumptions.
Experts are all confident in their divination results, and Wan Ketan only lost because he didn’t understand Chu Qianli. She was a born trickster, providing both false and true information, and erroneous information couldn’t be used in divination. A single wrong step could lead to an entire failure.
Tan Muxing asked, “Will he still cause trouble for you?”
“Why would he cause trouble for me? We’re just messing around,” Chu Qianli proudly showed off her jade treasures. “Look, he even gave me things. We’re really talking about burial items!”
“He’ll probably give up after playing this round.”
At the villa in the suburbs of Beijing, Wan Ketan had a repair master urgently summoned, hoping to salvage the broken pieces of the compass.
The repairman was stunned when he saw the compass, but he obediently started fixing it, reassembling it and helplessly said, “The precision will still be somewhat affected.”
Wan Ketan anxiously waited for a long time before angrily asking, “Why is it affected? You’re supposed to be the best at fixing these!”
“Is this compass really that important…?” The repairman, facing Wan Ketan’s frantic behavior, asked awkwardly. “Does it have some kind of commemorative value?”
Others chimed in, “This is Master Wan’s heirloom compass, passed down from the Haomen ancestors. Please, help us out!”
The repairman looked up in confusion, “Heirloom compass?”
“Yes, yes, it’s an antique.”
“Then I’ll just buy you another one. We have plenty of those in my shop,” the repairman said. “This is just an ordinary compass. I don’t even bother fixing them; if they break, just buy a new one.”
Wan Ketan was struck as if by a thunderbolt. He almost stumbled as he recalled some strange details.
“How can that be? Look at this, it clearly shows age!”
“This is intentionally aged, probably because they think it looks better,” the repairman pulled out his phone. “What am I lying to you for? You can buy the same model online.”
The group saw the online shopping image on the screen and awkwardly turned to look at Wan Ketan.
Wan Ketan was shaking with rage, coughing violently as if he might faint at any moment.
The saying “The higher the skill, the greater the trick” came true. Chu Yilian faked his death to leave Haomen, while Chu Qianli casually swapped the compasses. Both were tricksters at heart, inheriting their craft in a sense.
That very night, as Chu Qianli had predicted, two of the Seven Stars lamps mysteriously went out. Wan Ketan had tried to imitate Zhuge Liang’s Seven Stars lamps at Wuzhangyuan, hoping to extend his life, which was mocked by Chu Qianli.
Setting aside whether this matter was scientific, Zhuge Liang’s main lamp was extinguished, and his life extension failed, leaving him to sigh: “Life and death are destined; they cannot be reversed.”
Now, Wan Ketan had two lamps extinguished, adding to the negative psychological implications. Despite people watching over the lamps through the night, they still went out under their noses, truly resembling an ominous prophecy.
Wan Ketan should have gone to settle accounts with Chu Qianli, but now he was bedridden with illness, unable to even leave his house.
If someone’s heart holds hope, they can push through; but once that hope is shattered, all energy is drained.
Wan Ketan had originally believed the compass could change everything, but the early death omen of Chu Qianli shattered that illusion. Her words were not wrong: if the compass had any real power, her fate would not have been like this, and Wan Ketan wouldn’t have been involved.
She was more gifted than Wan Ketan, yet nothing changed.
Chu Yilian was more gifted than Wan Ketan, and yet he naturally left.
In his hospital bed, Wan Ketan vaguely realized that Chu Qianli was right, but he didn’t dare fully believe it. Once he completely accepted this truth, perhaps it would truly be the moment for him to go.
He would rather believe the compass is useful but is afraid to seek it out again, fearing that if he obtains it, his hopes will be shattered. It’s a completely complex and contradictory mindset.
Tan Muxing had been quite worried. He was afraid Wan Ketan would come back to kidnap someone again. Recently, he had been closely following Chu Qianli after school, even on weekends, but there had been no further incidents.
In the classroom, Chu Qianli sat by the window flipping through books, using the break between classes to ponder over the red crystal compass.
Tan Muxing noticed how focused she was and, with some thought, remarked, “We really haven’t encountered those people recently.”
Chu Qianli noticed her deskmate’s concern about Wan Ketan. She casually calculated something and muttered, “Let me check then, see what he’s up to…”
“Hmm… seems like his health is improving, not as bad as before,” Chu Qianli said cheerfully. “If he doesn’t mess with any rituals and tries to keep his mood up, he should live a few more days.”
“Rituals? Are you talking about the Seven Stars lamp?”
“That’s not all. There are many things that count as rituals, like some people counting flower petals to ask if someone loves them or not. That also kind of counts…” Chu Qianli lazily continued, “There are ritual arrays both domestically and internationally. Whether they work is another matter, but making a mistake in the process can completely shatter a person’s mindset.”
“It’s like when an extremely anxious senior high student gets a fortune telling about failing the entrance exam. It’s better not to know, because knowing just drives them mad. So, you shouldn’t mess around at critical times,” Chu Qianli added. “I sometimes even avoid divination before exams.”
It’s fine if it’s about something one doesn’t care about, but once you calculate something you care about, it’s very easy to get caught up in emotions, leading to nervousness and negative psychological suggestions.
Chu Qianli understood Wan Ketan’s current mindset very well. If he was smart, he wouldn’t probe the compass any further. The cruel truth might speed up his countdown.
Tan Muxing replied in a calm tone, “It’s good as long as he doesn’t come back.”
“I’m more worried that you might be disappointed. You seem to care a lot lately.”
“I’m not disappointed, but Uncle Qi is a little bit,” Tan Muxing quietly explained after a few seconds, helplessly adding, “He’s been working out a lot recently. He’s been saying that he’s been a driver for too long, and it’s rare that he could be a bodyguard.”
What Tan Muxing didn’t mention was that his grandmother was also quite excited. She believed she had extraordinary foresight and was just waiting to give the car team a super boost.
Tan Muxing didn’t want anything bad to happen at school, but it seemed like the people around him were waiting for something to happen (?)
That day, Chu Qianli brought back her jade treasures and also some of her grandfather’s old books. After flipping through them, she realized why she had never seen them before. These weren’t books on Zi Wei Dou Shu; they were actually travel journals from her grandfather’s younger years.
“Grandpa turned his travel journal into a novel? The artistic exaggeration is like online fiction, no wonder it really fooled people,” Chu Qianli casually flipped through the book. “He’s totally the type of ‘dragon-hero’ in male-oriented novels, it’s all about his Daoist practices.”
“Isn’t this information?” Tan Muxing asked, puzzled. “I see you studying it every day, I thought you were seriously learning.”
“Nonsense, when have I ever studied seriously? I was just reading novels, that’s why I was so serious,” Chu Qianli replied.
“…”
The text recorded Chu Yilian’s experiences with Daoist practices when he was young. As a genius from Haomen, he went out to train and visited the great mountains and rivers that the ancestors of Haomen had traversed. Along the way, he met many like-minded people, battled with others, and made some friends.
Some names were frequently mentioned in the old books, such as “Xu,” “Mei,” and “Ye.” They were likely fellow practitioners from the same period.
Chu Qianli exclaimed, “It mentions your family in here!”
“No way,” Tan Muxing said, skeptical. He leaned over to look at the old book. “It might just be a coincidence.”
“It definitely isn’t. Look at this part, it’s definitely your family,” Chu Qianli blinked in surprise, then froze. “So it turns out not having conflicts is a family trait. It says here that your family cooperated with the reforms and had a good reputation in the local area, so they didn’t suffer much hardship back then.”
The Tan family had always been a charitable and well-established family. Despite facing some difficulties over the years, they always managed to navigate through tough times.
Chu Yilian had commented in the book about the characteristics of this family. They were good at keeping a low profile, going with the flow, and even praised the Tan family’s chefs as being excellent.
Chu Qianli nodded in agreement, “I also think your family’s food is really good.”
Tan Muxing replied, “…Thank you, but do things like this really get recorded?”
Tan Muxing didn’t quite understand the masters. After Chu Qianli visited the Tan family and was impressed by the big house, Chu Yilian also praised the food when he visited. It made one feel that the masters were surprisingly down-to-earth.
In the old books, Chu Yilian also recorded many interesting anecdotes with like-minded people. He discovered that the ancestors of Haomen were incredibly gifted, and the compasses they left behind shared common features with other sect’s relics, such as the Peach Wood Sword from the Qianmen sect.
The book even had sketches of these relics: a withered compass, a twisted bell, and a hastily drawn sword.
Chu Qianli stared at the sketches, frowning, and complained, “No wonder Grandpa couldn’t recognize it. With drawings like this, who could make sense of them?”
“This? This? It’s not even as good as your random doodles on your notebook!” Chu Qianli held up the book to show her deskmate her grandfather’s terrible drawing skills.
Tan Muxing weakly reminded her, “Well, at least it’s your grandfather’s drawing.”
Chu Qianli replied, “That’s why I can mock it more freely. Grandpa really can’t study talismans; even when he draws them, they’re not clear.”
Tan Muxing: “?”
Chu Yilian and others had suspected that the relics of each sect contained secrets, but after searching all over the country, they only found three items. Eventually, this matter was left unresolved. Perhaps the time hadn’t yet come. The group deduced that a grand Daoist conference would occur in the future and decided to return, recruit disciples, rest, and wait for that moment when the heavenly secret would be revealed.
Chu Yilian leaving his sect was part of the subsequent story, but it was not recorded in this travel journal.
Chu Qianli had a set of red crystal tarot cards, which her grandfather had never seen. She speculated that her grandfather and the others might not have found them because they couldn’t travel abroad freely at the time due to the limitations of their era. They were unable to find overseas relics.
These relics might be scattered around the world, and while her grandfather’s book depicted Taoist items, perhaps there were other traditions abroad, just like the red crystal tarot.
The coursework in the third year of high school was tedious, and Chu Qianli and Tan Muxing happily flipped through the old books, reading stories about youthful ambition and the grandeur of the mountains and rivers, inevitably becoming nostalgic.
Chu Qianli sniffled and said, “When my grandfather was my age, he traveled across mountains and rivers, but here I am, stuck in a classroom, struggling through my studies.”
“But back then, many people couldn’t even read,” Tan Muxing heard her sigh and gently suggested, “Once everything is settled, we can travel too. Isn’t Qiu Qingkong still planning a trip abroad?”
“We can travel farther than them, even to places they could never go.”
Chu Qianli froze when she heard this.
Tan Muxing never avoided addressing the things related to Chu Qianli, but he also had a unique sense of resolve. He absolutely didn’t believe in those matters. Perhaps it was because he had been hurt by metaphysical beliefs since he was young, that he had developed a strong resistance, to the point where he seemed almost invulnerable.
The things about the future had once struck him down into the abyss, but immediately after that came a rebound. Once he had mentally prepared himself to fall deep into the abyss, it also represented a brand new beginning. The peak inevitably leads to a fall, the extreme leads to the opposite, and the worst is always the beginning of something better.
What was left in Pandora’s box was Elpis — hope, as well as all unrealistic wishes. This was similar to the compass for Wan Ketan, or the future for Chu Qianli.
She wasn’t sure if it was a realistic wish, but in this moment, she certainly felt an overwhelming sense of anticipation.
Chu Qianli cheerfully responded, “Sure, Grandpa never flew abroad when he was alive. When I go back to the village, I can show off to him.”
The two of them envisioned a hopeful future and then continued flipping through the old books, discovering many parts they couldn’t understand.
Chu Qianli scratched her head in confusion, “What does this mean? Who’s Xiaozhi? Suddenly there’s a new name?”
Chu Yilian probably didn’t expect his travel journal to be read. When he wrote it, he didn’t care much about details, often using surnames as substitutes and occasionally scribbling out typos. It was truly a messy draft.
“This shouldn’t be Xiaozhi, right?” Tan Muxing tried to think it through. After a moment of consideration, he tentatively said, “Is this referring to my grandfather? My grandfather’s name is Tan Qiyu.”
Chu Qianli nodded in realization and analyzed, “Ah, so their relationship got better. Earlier, it was written as ‘Tan,’ and now it’s ‘Xiaozhi.’ This deeply reveals the author’s emotional progression and shift, showing the genuine friendship between the author and his friend.”
Tan Muxing felt like she had gone a bit overboard with the reading comprehension. He quietly corrected her, “It’s Qiyi, not Xiaozhi.”
Suddenly, Chu Qianli seemed to remember something. She looked up at him sharply, hesitated, and asked, “Xiaomu? Xiaoxing?”
Tan Muxing was momentarily caught off guard, “?”
Chu Qianli’s eyes lit up as she realized something, and she exclaimed, “Xingxing! It must be Xingxing!”
Tan Muxing was immediately called by his childhood nickname. His face turned red in an instant, and he flustered, “No, no, no…”
Only elders called him by this nickname at home, and for him, it felt like a public execution.
Chu Qianli found it amusing as she saw him trying to avoid it. She began repeating it like a chant, “Xingxing, Xingxing, Xingxing…”
Tan Muxing could only shamefully cover his ears, but the words still echoed in his head.
“From now on, I’ll call you Xingxing,” Chu Qianli decisively concluded. Then, she suddenly remembered something and added, “I’ll make sure to be a civilized person. Otherwise, when I say ‘Damn it, Xingxing,’ it’ll still hit you too.”
Tan Muxing: “Thanks for your consideration, but really, you don’t have to…”
Chu Qianli ignored his words and continued happily chanting, “Xingxing, Xingxing, Polar Bear Xingxing, Zhi Shi Xingxing…”
“…” Tan Muxing immediately felt embarrassed, his ears burning with shame. He quickly covered his ears, hoping this round of torment would end soon.
At this point, he wasn’t even sure if it said “Qiyi” or “Xiaozhi” in the book. He just felt that if his grandfather were ever called “Xiaozhi,” he would probably feel exactly as he did now — wanting to sink into the ground.
