After the village relocation ceremony, the villagers began moving to their new settlement.
The work station remained busy with surveys, but with their tasks on this section completed, Chu Qianli and the others were set to return to Beijing for a brief rest before heading to the next segment of their work.
Later, Chu Qianli added three new photos to the album Batu had given her: one of her and Tan Muxing awkwardly dancing at the welcome banquet—a photo sent to her by another staff member; another of the four of them playing around during the ceremony, captured candidly by someone nearby; and one taken in front of the work station, showing her, Tan Muxing, and Professor Pan together before the advisory team’s departure.
The days leading up to departure were always rushed. Chu Qianli and Tan Muxing packed their luggage at the base, preparing to fly back to Beijing with Pan Yicheng the next day.
Sitting amidst an open suitcase, Chu Qianli felt utterly overwhelmed, not knowing where to start. She decided to head to the restroom to wash her hands, optimistically declaring, “It’s fine. I’ll get it done eventually. Let me tackle my daily tasks first.”
“But it has to be done today. You said the same thing yesterday.” Tan Muxing, carefully folding the Shaman robe gifted by the village, turned around to remind her. He saw Chu Qianli had already pulled out her tarot cards, engrossed in her reading.
Tan Muxing sighed helplessly, “Finish that and then get to packing. We’re flying tomorrow.”
“Got it, got it.”
Chu Qianli agreed readily, but her mind seemed elsewhere. Everything felt more appealing than packing. She skillfully shuffled the deck and began her daily reading, planning to pack right after. But when she flipped over the cards, she froze.
The overall trajectory of fate hadn’t changed, but there was something different.
Puzzled, Chu Qianli decided to check the celestial alignments and cast another reading on the spot to confirm.
She had always known that she needed to counterbalance her innate gift with effort to mitigate its toll on her lifespan. Having spent her childhood traveling with her grandfather and performing countless readings, she had never before felt such a clear and tangible shift!
The flow of karma had changed.
It was subtle—like holding a handful of water compared to mere droplets before—but the improvement in efficiency was undeniable.
Chu Qianli’s eyes lit up with hope. She eagerly asked her companion, “Do you remember how many people are in the village?”
Tan Muxing was caught off guard. “Batu said fewer than a hundred, I think?”
“That can’t be right. I remember estimating way more…” Chu Qianli frowned, scratching her head. “The numbers don’t add up.”
“What’s going on?”
Faced with Tan Muxing’s confusion, Chu Qianli explained briefly.
“Didn’t I mention before that reading life and death fortunes doesn’t affect me much because the karma of a single person has almost no effect on me? It’s like a drop in the ocean…” Chu Qianli elaborated. “But just now you said the village has fewer than a hundred people, yet the karmic impact is far greater than a hundred!”
The karma generated by the village’s relocation far exceeded the combined impact of reading fortunes for a hundred individuals—by more than tenfold!
Although it still wasn’t enough for her, the massive boost in efficiency naturally left her astonished.
Tan Muxing thought for a moment and speculated, “Maybe it’s because what used to grow linearly is now growing exponentially?”
Chu Qianli blinked in confusion. “Exponential growth?”
“I don’t really understand your methods; this is just a personal guess…” Tan Muxing patiently explained. “The village has a long history, and after moving to the new site, it might last for a long time and develop quite well.”
“When you read fortunes for individuals in the past, it only solved specific, immediate problems, right? Whether it was for classmates or Uncle He, it was just about addressing the issue at hand. But the relocation is a massive turning point for the entire village and might even impact the new Shaman cultural village.”
Even when they helped expose the construction on Yilong Mountain, their role was merely supportive. The villagers already had the capacity to adapt, so their influence wasn’t as significant as it was with the relocation of the Shaman village.
Good karma doesn’t work just because someone claims to have helped others; its calculation is highly complex. Resolving fundamental issues has far more impact than something like a monetary donation.
Chu Qianli suddenly understood. “I get it. You’re saying that if the village develops better and lasts longer, my gains will be greater. It’s different from short-term help.”
Tan Muxing smiled. “Exactly. Grandma Saren and the others might always remember you, just as they remember the Shamans of the past.”
Karma is mysterious. Chu Qianli hadn’t accepted any payment for her assistance with the relocation, but the villagers had unknowingly reciprocated with something intangible, creating a win-win outcome.
Chu Qianli hadn’t anticipated any rewards from helping with the relocation. She simply felt guilty for the villagers’ gratitude and had instinctively wanted to repay them, which unexpectedly led to a perfect resolution.
The two discussed this with Pan Yicheng during their flight.
“It’s possible,” Pan Yicheng said thoughtfully. “Some religions say that accumulating virtue doesn’t require witnesses—doing good will be known by heaven. The idea that good and evil aren’t rewarded is because people only see surface-level effects and understand immediate causes and effects. It’s often the unexpected actions that yield the greatest results.”
“I’ve always felt your issue was about not having enough accumulated karma,” Pan Yicheng added. “But what counts as sufficient accumulation is another question.”
Human calculations can’t surpass divine ones. The more one tries to calculate cause and effect, the harder it is to predict.
Chu Qianli asked, “So, if I continue working on projects, could I really reach a breakthrough?”
Pan Yicheng chuckled and hinted, “Well, then you’d better keep working hard and putting your heart into your tasks. Look at the village relocation—your involvement was the most significant. Maybe it’s related to how much effort you put in.”
“…,” Tan Muxing couldn’t shake the feeling that the professor’s exploitation tactics were pervasive.
“Oh, by the way,” Pan Yicheng said. “Weren’t you looking for something like a compass? I asked someone about it recently and found out that one of you might have already contacted the person who holds the Sanqing Bell.”
“Sanqing Bell?”
“Yes, it’s a bell. I remember Manling had it back then,” Pan Yicheng said, gesturing with his hands as he recalled. “During an interview, there was a young girl who came in but left within a minute. I didn’t speak to her much, but I remember her surname was Mei. I should’ve realized at the time.”
Chu Qianli froze at the mention of the surname Mei, suddenly thinking of Mei Rujing.
Their plane landed at the Beijing Capital International Airport.
Chu Qianli opened her phone and showed Pan Yicheng a WeChat profile. “Professor Pan, is this the person you’re talking about?”
Mei Rujing used her real name on WeChat.
“I think that’s the name,” Pan Yicheng said with a nod. Then he asked in surprise, “You two already know each other? And you even have her on WeChat?”
Chu Qianli replied, “Not really. It’s thanks to your so-called challenges that we even met.”
Pan Yicheng: “?”
Tan Muxing explained, “We were in the same testing center at the time.”
“Ah, I see,” Pan Yicheng said. “But how was that a challenge? That test wasn’t hard, was it?”
Chu Qianli: “… Stop humblebragging already.”
Now that Mei Rujing seemed to be the holder of the Sanqing Bell, things appeared to have gotten a bit easier.
After returning to Beijing, Chu Qianli had dinner with her family and then carefully sent Mei Rujing a message to tentatively broach the subject.
Since they weren’t close—they had only spoken twice—Chu Qianli wasn’t confident about the outcome.
Fortunately, Mei Rujing was as straightforward as ever. She sent back a voice message and readily agreed.
“You’re back in Beijing? I do have an old bell. If you want to see it, come by sometime. It’s not a big deal,” Mei Rujing said. After a brief pause, she added, “Let me check… maybe in a few days. I’m busy making money right now. I’ll let you know after I finish my current tasks.”
Chu Qianli immediately replied with a sweet and polite message: [Okay, okay, big sister, take your time. I’m not in a rush. Let me know when you’re free.]
She even sent a cute sticker, coming across as a soft, sweet younger sister.
Just then, there was a knock at her bedroom door. Chu Qianli, who had been lounging on her bed while sending playful WeChat messages, immediately put on a serious face and shouted, “Brother, don’t knock so hard! If you disturb my rest and delay the country’s grand construction plans, you’ll go down in history as a sinner!”
He Shichen from outside the door: “?”
He Shichen said impatiently, “Mom’s calling you to come downstairs for some fruit. And how did you even know it was me?”
“This is beyond your comprehension,” Chu Qianli said smugly. “It’s like comparing a dual-core to a quad-core CPU.”
“Stop showing off and come out already. Aunt Li is asking how to wash your work uniforms.”
“What work uniforms?”
“The two flashy outfits.”
Chu Qianli thought of the Shaman robes and quickly got out of bed. “No need to wash them. They’re keepsakes now. I’m not wearing them out again…”
After returning to Beijing, Chu Qianli and Tan Muxing went to school to pick up their accumulated assignments and caught up with Qiu Qingkong and others about their recent experiences. They weren’t immediately sent out on another trip and instead worked regularly in Pan Yicheng’s office, handling tasks in the capital.
Pan Yicheng issued them work IDs, labeling their positions as “Special Assistants.” Though they weren’t officially on staff, flashing these IDs was quite impressive, especially since the back listed heavyweight organizations. Whether it was a “Bureau” or an “Institute,” it all sounded formidable.
Chu Qianli wanted to see the Sanqing Bell before leaving Beijing again, so she gently reminded Mei Rujing after a couple of days. Eventually, they finalized the meeting time.
“Sure, sure, let’s do it tomorrow,” Mei Rujing said decisively. “I’ve been so overwhelmed by all this annoying stuff lately. Tomorrow’s the weekend—let’s pick a place, and I’ll bring it for you to see. You decide the spot and send me the address.”
Since Chu Qianli wasn’t used to arranging meetups, she had no idea where to suggest and turned to Tan Muxing for advice. After some thought, Tan Muxing contacted He Jianping to arrange for them to meet in a familiar location.
—
On the weekend, the skies were clear, and the streets outside the teahouse were bustling as always.
Inside the teahouse, Mei Rujing appeared as glamorous as ever. She walked gracefully onto the second floor, took off her sunglasses, and glanced around. Spotting the two of them, she complimented, “Not bad. This place is pretty quiet, and parking’s convenient too.”
Chu Qianli and Tan Muxing quickly stood to greet her. After a brief exchange of pleasantries, Mei Rujing took out the Sanqing Bell and casually tossed it to Chu Qianli.
“Here, this is it. Some people have come looking to see it before, but no one could figure out anything about it.”
Chu Qianli didn’t expect her to be so nonchalant and scrambled to catch it, then carefully examined the bell. The Sanqing Bell looked like an ordinary bell with a long, thin handle. At first glance, it seemed entirely metallic, and the red crystal wasn’t immediately noticeable.
“It seems different from mine?”
Chu Qianli flipped the bell around in confusion. Finally, she spotted a faint red glimmer from the clapper inside when held in dim light. However, under bright light, it appeared metallic. She couldn’t help but ask, “Big sister, how do you use this?”
“I thought you’d know how to use it since you specifically wanted to see it?” Mei Rujing said. She then took back the Sanqing Bell, shook it three times expressionlessly, and said, “Like this.”
Chu Qianli listened to the three chimes, waiting silently for something to happen.
Mei Rujing continued to hold up the bell.
The three of them fell into silence.
After a moment, Tan Muxing hesitantly broke the quiet. “Sorry, I don’t quite understand. So… what happened?”
Being completely unfamiliar with metaphysics, Tan Muxing couldn’t make sense of it. What was the point of shaking the bell?
Chu Qianli stared blankly. “Actually, I don’t get it either.”
Mei Rujing shook the bell twice more. “You just shake it like this.”
“So… what’s it for?”
“Nothing really. Just shake it for fun. Why else would I call it a useless bell?”
“…”
“This thing is so impractical,” Chu Qianli muttered incredulously, holding the Sanqing Bell. “At least my compass actually works!”
Chu Qianli had gained some insights from the Red Crystal Tarot and found that the Red Crystal Compass could be used for actual geomancy. She assumed the Sanqing Bell would have some function too. But to her shock, it seemed to exist solely for the sound it made—purely for fun!
She had been searching for red crystal artifacts, thinking they carried legacy knowledge and might hold the secrets of advanced metaphysical techniques. However, she couldn’t figure out how to use the Sanqing Bell at all.
Tan Muxing searched online for information and timidly said, “It seems like bells like this were used by Taoists to ward off zombies.”
Mei Rujing let out a cold laugh. “Well, here’s the real question: if zombies were actually real, wouldn’t they be worth more than this useless bell?”
“If I ever encountered a zombie, why would I bother warding it off with a bell? I’d just tie it up and sell it. Zombies would be way rarer and more valuable than the Sanqing Bell!” Mei Rujing said, exasperated.
“…”
