Chapter 1: Qianyang Enters the Mortal World

“The sky has finally cleared up today!”

A sigh echoed through the deserted lobby of Laojie Police Station.

It had rained heavily for half a month straight, leaving people feeling as if they had gone moldy, sluggish all over.

At last the sun came out.

Light filtered through the glass door, dappling the floor in patches, dust drifting in the air as if carrying the scent of sunshine.

“By the way, what about that unregistered person on Little Qian Mountain…” one of the people in the hallway asked.

Before the words faded, a figure stepped out of the office.

She wore a dusty gray Daoist robe, a black cloth bag slanted across her shoulder—bulging with who-knew-what—and held something in her hand.

Her eyes were dark and bright, fixed intently on the two people in the corridor.

The next moment, she raised what was in her hand to show them—a brand-new ID card.

“Who’s unregistered?”

Qianyang raised an eyebrow, waving the ID card with a hint of showing off.

“Oh?

The ID card came through?” one of the officers laughed.

“What’s next?

What are you planning to do?”

Qianyang carefully put away the ID card.

She had heard that without this thing, you couldn’t take a single step down the mountain.

“Teach, enlighten, and carry on the family legacy,” Qianyang said concisely.

Half a month ago, an unexpected downpour had caused a flood that washed away the centuries-old ancestral home of the Qian family.

With nowhere to go, Qianyang had been discovered by rescue workers and brought down the mountain.

“…All by yourself?” the officer asked, stunned.

Qianyang nodded.

“That’s right.”

“Come to think of it, how is it that the Daoist temple on Little Qian Mountain only has you as a disciple?

What about your master and the other disciples?”

Qianyang paused for a moment, then lowered her eyelids, hiding her bright eyes, and spoke in a heavy voice.

“They all left.”

The two officers exchanged glances, looking awkward, rubbing their hands together.

“Then do you have any relatives down the mountain?”

Qianyang shook her head.

“No.

This is my first time down the mountain.”

Sympathy welled up in the officers’ eyes.

Hesitantly, they asked, “Then all alone, without a penny to your name…”

“It’s fine.”

Qianyang looked up with a smile, radiant as stars.

“I can earn money.”

The two men’s sympathy seemed ready to spill over.

Qianyang said seriously, “I’m very capable.

I’ve already learned all the rules down the mountain.”

Qianyang wasn’t lying.

Her master had said she was the most gifted disciple the Qian family had ever produced.

When she left the station, several officers tried to stuff money into her pocket.

But the occult path held that every effect must have a cause—no reward without contribution.

Qianyang couldn’t break her own spiritual integrity, so she declined all their kindness.

Walking across the damp pavement, puddles reflecting the passersby, Qianyang stood at a roadside lined with towering buildings.

The bustling traffic and shifting crowd felt utterly novel.

People walking past her would unconsciously let their eyes linger for a few seconds.

Qianyang’s dusty gray Daoist robe seemed completely out of place against the vibrant cityscape.

Like a country bumpkin who had stumbled into a cyberpunk new world.

“Sizzle—”

The aroma of fried chicken lingered around her nose.

On a vendor’s cart, oil bubbled in a pot, chicken wrapped in breadcrumbs fried to a golden crisp.

Qianyang swallowed.

Her gaze shifted to the next stall selling grab-and-go pancakes—golden, crispy crepes wrapped around spicy sauce, lettuce, ham sausage, and tenderloin, then rolled up and sliced in the middle…

Qianyang’s stomach growled.

She bit her lip.

—Jumbo grab-and-go pancake, 25 yuan.

Hungry.

So what now?

Make money!

“Fortune-telling?

Wealth, career, love… I can tell you everything.”

“Fortune-telling!

Fortune-telling!

If it’s not accurate, you don’t pay!

If it’s not accurate, you don’t pay!”

Three or four elderly people holding compasses kept yelling at passersby.

One of them noticed Qianyang, his eyes lighting up.

“Little girl, want your fortune told?

If it’s not accurate, you don’t pay.”

Qianyang looked thoughtfully at the compass in his hand.

“Master, how much for a reading?”

“Fifty!

Fair price for young and old alike,” the old man said eagerly.

“Oh… thank you.”

Qianyang politely thanked him, then turned, pulled a yellow pennant from her cloth bag, tucked it into her bun, and began yelling by the roadside:

“Fortune-telling!

Fortune-telling!

Starting at twenty-five yuan for a reading, fair price for young and old alike!”

Old man: “?”

“Little girl…” The old man was not angry but amused.

“Stealing my business is one thing, but why are you undercutting the market?”

Qianyang explained, “I’m only doing one reading.

And the fee for a fortune reading should vary from person to person, shouldn’t it?”

The old man clearly didn’t take her seriously, snorting.

“Little girl, you can’t make money by swindling people.”

“Thank you.”

Qianyang nodded and continued shouting among the crowd.

“Fortune-telling!

If it’s not accurate, you don’t pay!

If it’s not accurate, you don’t pay!”

Not only did no passersby stop, they practically went out of their way to avoid her.

After shouting for a while, Qianyang realized making money wasn’t as easy as she had imagined.

No one wanted her services—they were terrified of making eye contact with her.

The customers at the pancake stall changed batch after batch, and Qianyang was so hungry her stomach was eating itself.

Qianyang sighed.

Making a living down the mountain was harder than she thought.

Was she going to starve to death without earning a single coin?

If her ancestors found out, they would kick her out of the underworld and make her a wandering ghost.

“See?

I was right, wasn’t I?”

The old man had wandered nearby, chin raised smugly.

“You’re still too green!”

Qianyang pressed her lips together.

Since childhood, everything she did had gone smoothly, as if blessed by the gods.

Ever since that heavy rain, though, her luck seemed to have been washed away.

Could it be related to the collapse of her ancestral home?

Well, never mind.

Her master had said people down the mountain were different from before.

She’d just have to find another path, figure out a way to earn money, and then think about carrying on the family legacy.

“Young people these days… no ambition, no sense of purpose…”

The few elderly fortune-tellers who worked the same area had somehow gathered around.

“Little girl, do you know the tricks of the trade?”

Qianyang pricked up her ears and humbly asked, “Master, what tricks?”

One of them said, “You think fortune-telling is really about telling someone’s fate?”

Qianyang tilted her head, puzzled.

“Otherwise?

What else?”

“There’s no supernatural business here.

We rely entirely on our own life experience and knowledge to guess what the customer wants to hear, say some things that comfort them.

Someone as young as you—under twenty, right?”

Qianyang answered honestly, “Twenty-one.”

“At your age, even if you dress the part and have looks like yours, why don’t you find another path?

Fortune-telling?

Who would believe you?”

Qianyang said, “You can’t judge a book by its cover.

My readings are very accurate.

Want to try?

Twenty-five yuan a reading.”

“Tsk!

You’re just not getting it.

It’s all about psychological comfort.

Who would believe a young girl like you?”

Qianyang slowly realized that what they called fortune-telling seemed different from her understanding of it.

She thought for a moment and asked, “Can you tell my name?”

“?”

“Are you crazy?

I told you, it’s not real fortune-telling!”

“Little girl, which theater did you run away from?”

“Go on, get out of here!

Don’t ruin our business.”

“…”

“What, you think you can tell our names?”

Qianyang said, “I don’t need to calculate.

After talking with you for a bit, I already know.”

“???”

“What nonsense are you spouting?”

“Zhang Jiaquan.”

“Wu Wenli.”

“Li Fang.”

“Tang Guoqiang.”

“…”

Seeing their reactions, Qianyang called out their names one by one.

The chattering elderly all fell silent, staring at her in disbelief.

Qianyang looked innocent.

Wasn’t this basic occult skill?

As long as a person’s own energy wasn’t strong, Qianyang didn’t even need to cast a reading—a few exchanges and she could calculate their names.

“Y-you… that’s impossible, right?”

The old man pointed a trembling finger at her.

“You must be a con artist!”

“No wonder my son warned me about elderly fraud.

Even smart people can fall for it.

Your scam ring has gotten this brazen?”

“Are you with that company that handed out eggs yesterday?

No wonder they insisted on my name!”

“You’re absolutely outrageous!”

Qianyang: “…”

Wait, where were they giving out eggs?

Could she get some too?

“Fortune-telling?”

Just then, a voice came out of nowhere.

Qianyang looked up.

A haggard-faced young man stood outside the group, looking exhausted, his eyes vacant.

The moment they heard this, the bickering elderly all swarmed toward him.

“Young man, what do you want your fortune told for?”

“Wealth, career, love… can tell anything.

Fifty yuan a reading!”

The young man held a plastic folder with blue cover, several sheets of paper pressed underneath.

The first page had the large word “RESUME” printed on it.

His shoulders drooped, hands hanging at his sides.

He asked, “When will I find a job?”

“When will I get rich overnight?”

The elderly were stumped.

They looked at each other.

“Young man, are you okay?

How can we predict things like that?”

“If you don’t actually want a reading, just leave.

You’re wasting our time.”

The young man pressed his pale lips together.

“Isn’t it supposed to tell everything?”

“Are you… sick?”

“Go on, get out of here!”

Qianyang crossed her arms, watching him thoughtfully.

The young man said nothing more and turned to leave.

“Wait a moment.”

Qianyang called out to stop him.

The young man half-turned.

“Do you have a way to get rich overnight?”

The others also looked their way.

Qianyang pursed her lips.

He wasn’t much to look at, but he sure dreamed big.

Even she wouldn’t dare talk about getting rich overnight.

“No way to get rich overnight…”

“Oh.”

Before Qianyang could finish, the young man turned and walked off, muttering, “…I must be crazy.”

“Have you considered taking a master?”

Qianyang asked, watching his back.

“A master who teaches me how to make money?

I’d consider that,” the young man said absently.

Qianyang pressed further.

“And a master who saves your life?”

The young man paused, turned to look at her with a frown.

Qianyang’s expression was serious; she didn’t seem to be joking.

“Little girl, have you lost your mind?”

“Are you two colluding to scam people together?”

“You youngsters, why won’t you aim higher?”

“The world is going downhill!”

The bystanders, thinking the two were trying to ruin their business, threw out jeers and sarcasm.

The young man tightened his lips.

“Looks like you’re crazy too.”

Qianyang: “…”

Qianyang gave a slight shrug and reminded him, “Watch your step when you cross the street.”

The young man didn’t answer.

He walked straight to the roadside.

The pedestrian light on the opposite side turned green.

The young man stepped into the crosswalk without looking back.

Several cars idled by the curb, bells from bicycles and horns from scooters echoing in the air.

The next moment, a tide of people surged into the zebra crossing.

Amid the endless flow of pedestrians, the young man’s shoulders were hunched, his steps slow.

In an instant, his figure was swallowed up.

…Good advice is wasted on the damned who are determined to die.