duyong

I was born in the 1980s, and officially stepped into the world of Feng Shui in 2006. Over the past decade, I’ve witnessed mysteries that most would never believe.

In 2013, over 100,000 fish died mysteriously in Liaozhong Reservoir…
In Tower Bay Street, spirits marched in a ghostly parade…
In Wenguantun, shadowy markets rose at dusk…
And in front of the Shenyang Imperial Palace, a ghostly princess once sat in her palanquin.

Were these the workings of nature — or something far more ancient and unseen?

In ten years, I’ve saved lives — and yes, I’ve ruined some too. Feng Shui is like a blade: it bears no evil or virtue. The darkness lies in the hearts of men.

This book is not written to boast about my mastery or to chase after the sensational. I write to share a truth:

Feng Shui can nurture life — or destroy it. There is no good or evil in the art itself. Only in the human heart.

Tales of Folk Feng Shui Mysteries

His wife's belly was already noticeable. From his 面相,Li Bo was fated to have a child at 30. But a six - month - old fetus within a year? His new relationship had progressed too quickly.

"Master... will my wife be okay?" Li Bo asked tentatively.

I shook my head, reassuring him that brief spirit possession posed no long - term harm—she'd recover in days. I turned to leave; I disliked two - faced people.

He chased after me. "Master, please help!" Blocking my path, he stammered, "Guests heard my ramblings. Say I was possessed—tell them it was all nonsense."

"Have you no conscience?!" I snapped.

"Master, don't get angry. My wife is the CEO's daughter—her family's worth tens of millions. Help me explain, and I'll pay you 200,000 yuan. Marrying Liu Mengyao gives me wealth and status I'd never earn otherwise. I loved Xiuxiu, but she's gone. Should I die for her like Liang Shanbo and Zhu Yingtai?"

His words struck a chord. Everyone chases fame and fortune—I too dreamed of rebuilding Yi Zhai to match Zhao Na's world. The 200,000 yuan tempted me.

"Master, I'm blunt but honest," he pressed. "I worked in Tibet for two years—for what? Money and status. If Xiuxiu hadn't died, I'd have married her. But life goes on. Help me as a good deed. You're young—who turns down money?"

I wavered. At 20, I had nothing; Yi Zhai belonged to Zhao Na. Despite hating Li Bo, Xiuxiu was gone. My resolve crumbled, but I made a condition: I'd tell the truth, not lie. He agreed eagerly.

Marriott was deserted. Three minutes later, a white BMW Z4 pulled up. As we drove to the hospital, Li Bo's phone never stopped—he wept and cajoled his in - laws, proving the old saying: The squeaky wheel gets the grease.

Hanging up, he smoked casually. "Before 25, I thought I'd be a leader. Now I know marriage changes fate." He patted his sports car and luxury watch. "Master, you're talented. Let's be friends—I know rich kids who're easy to fool."

"Drive," I said impatiently. "Your 'fortune borrowing' will demand repayment."

He smiled, flaunting wealth to hide insecurity. At the hospital, I briefed Liu Mengyao's family, who gave me 2,000 yuan. I suggested she wear jade to dispel yin energy. Li Bo saw me out, exchanging numbers. "The money will come. Consider us friends."

Money indeed mends bad impressions. As I left, an ER doctor raced in, shouting: "Prep surgery! Unprecedented parasite case—spider larvae crawling from the patient's stomach! She's pregnant—get the director!"

A chill ran down my spine—this reeked of feng shui malevolence. Chasing the gurney, my heart stopped: the patient was Li Qian, Zhao Na's stepmother.

Chapter 41: Because of Love (2/2)