Chapter Eleven: Ten Years of Misfortune, the Dragon Trapped in a Well; In One Swift Turn, Soaring to the Azure Heavens
At this moment, Xu Boqing was still unaware that he had become the focus of someone’s attention. He glanced back at the banners he had written—“If you seek divine wisdom, ask the Sage of Marvelous Calculation,” and “For the mysteries of destiny, consult the Immortal of Prophecy”—and, satisfied, clapped his hands and once more sat cross-legged on the ground.
He had barely settled into meditation when he noticed an elderly man approach, his face clouded with displeasure. The scene was reminiscent of those days in his previous life, when he’d be caught playing with his phone in class and the teacher would stride over, stern-faced and brimming with authority.
The oppressive air was nearly suffocating.
“What did I do to him?” Xu Boqing felt a tingling at his scalp but reminded himself that, as someone who had come out to tell fortunes, he must not show fear. So, he straightened his back and pretended not to notice.
The old man, seeing Xu Boqing sitting cross-legged in meditation, snorted coldly and sat down on a small stool, his voice icy as he spoke: “Young man, instead of studying properly, you’re out here deceiving people with your tricks?”
“Deceiving? Swindling? Is fortune-telling really to be equated with trickery and fraud? Clearly, it is an art of persuasion!” Xu Boqing was momentarily stunned. Just moments ago, he wasn’t sure, but now he was certain—this old man had come looking for trouble.
Perhaps a rival in the same trade?
Xu Boqing glanced at the old man, his tone neither servile nor arrogant, and asked, “Belief is a matter of the heart. I wonder, sir, whom have I deceived, swindled, kidnapped, or defrauded?”
“Oh, belief is a matter of the heart, is it?” The old man, surnamed Gu, sneered, “Very well. I believe—now, tell my fortune. How about that?”
“Certainly,” Xu Boqing nodded. “What is it that you wish to know?”
The old man said mockingly, “Since you call yourself a fortune-teller and I am standing before your stall, shouldn’t you be able to divine what I want to ask?”
This old fellow was clearly here to pick a quarrel.
Xu Boqing’s gaze sharpened as he stared at the old man, appearing to study his features but in truth focusing all his attention on the man’s eyes.
All color faded from his vision, and the noisy sounds of the morning market fell away, as if the world consisted only of himself and the old man before him.
No, there were others.
Several men, dressed plainly like common farmers shopping for vegetables, kept glancing in his direction. Above each of their heads hovered a distinct green aura, while a thick, blood-red hue clung to them—far denser than what Xu Boqing had seen on the military officer at the city gate earlier.
These must be the old man’s guards.
Such a formation could only mean they were officials.
Were they from the Embroidered Guard? Or the Eastern Depot?
And what, then, was the old man’s true identity?
Xu Boqing scrutinized the old man. Unlike the guards, the man himself exhibited no unusual aura; the white energy above his head was unremarkable, much like any ordinary person’s.
But how could a commoner have so many official guards?
Clearly impossible.
On closer inspection, Xu Boqing noticed faint threads of crimson interwoven within the white aura, drifting like smoke, elusive and ethereal…
Though these traces were as light as goose down, the pressure they exuded was terrifying—capable of swallowing the white aura entirely.
Intriguing…
The old man, convinced that the youth before him was a charlatan, grew impatient and barked, “Have you stared long enough, young man? Or do you think there’s something unusual about my face?”
“That’s enough,” Xu Boqing withdrew his focus, dispelling the effects of his mystical sight, and cupped his hands politely. “Forgive me, elder, for my impudence. Observing one’s countenance requires time—I hope you won’t take offense.”
“Observing my face? Hmph…” The old man scoffed. “Then tell me, what do you see in my features?”
“Nobility,” Xu Boqing replied.
“Nobility?”
“Indeed,” Xu Boqing explained. “Though you hold no official rank at present, your face reveals a destiny that will soar in the future. Yours is an unparalleled noble aspect.”
The old man’s brows rose in surprise. In truth, he had recently been dismissed but was now recalled and had yet to resume office. To say that he was without rank at the moment was not inaccurate, and to predict that he would soon rise to prominence was not far off the mark.
Could this youth truly possess some insight?
No—fortune-tellers are always like this…
He pondered for a moment, recalling how those in the trade often spoke in ambiguities, offering hopeful prospects while leaving the details to the imagination. He therefore assumed Xu Boqing’s words were a lucky guess.
The old man then pressed, “And when will this so-called noble destiny manifest?”
Xu Boqing paused deliberately.
Having deduced that the old man was no ordinary figure, and considering the presence of either the Embroidered Guard or the Eastern Depot as his protectors, Xu reasoned the man must either be leaving the capital or heading toward it.
If the former, he would have been demoted. But, judging by the old man’s demeanor and the number of guards, that didn’t seem likely.
So, he must be heading to the capital.
A man with no official post, yet accompanied by elite guards and carrying himself with dignity at his age, must have fallen from grace only to be called back to service—he was likely returning to resume his duties.
Moreover, the faint crimson aura he had observed earlier, though small, was already beginning to devour the white, perfectly fitting his deduction.
“Far as the horizon, close at hand,” Xu Boqing said, his words shrouded in mystery. “Elder, on the very day you reach the capital, your noble destiny will be fulfilled.”
“Hmm?”
The old man fixed his gaze on the youth for a long moment before snorting, “Enough evasion—have you divined what I wish to ask?”
“I have. Two words.”
“And what are they?”
“Official career.”
Xu Boqing smiled slightly. “These two words are what weigh most on your mind. Am I wrong, sir?”
Having deduced the old man had been dismissed and recalled to the capital, what else could he be concerned about if not his career?
The old man’s expression clouded, but he pressed on, “Do you know who I am?”
Xu Boqing shook his head. “I do not.”
The two locked eyes, the atmosphere tense. The old man seemed to be testing whether Xu Boqing was lying, but though the youth was many years his junior, he showed no fear—calm, composed, and meeting the old man’s gaze without flinching.
After a long pause, the old man finally snorted, “Then tell me, what do you divine for my career?”
He himself seemed not to notice that his tone had softened, losing the edge of earlier, the hostility gone from his words.
“I do not know.”
“You do not know?”
“Indeed, I do not.” Xu Boqing bowed. “The affairs of the court are ever-changing, and your future is shrouded in mist. My abilities are shallow, and what I can see is limited. I beg your understanding, elder.”
“You are honest, at least,” the old man nodded, his earlier desire to censure the youth fading as he prepared to take his leave.
But he hasn’t paid yet!
Seeing the old man about to depart, Xu Boqing spoke up calmly, “Though I cannot clearly see your career path, I do have two lines of verse to offer you, sir.”
He now addressed the old man as “benefactor” rather than “elder,” with deliberate emphasis.
The old man paused at these words. “Speak.”
Xu Boqing pondered for a moment, then recited, “The first line: ‘When fortune comes, heaven and earth unite in strength; when fortune fades, even heroes are not free.’”
The old man’s eyes narrowed. With his experience, he instantly grasped the profound meaning within the verse. After a deep breath, he asked, “And the second line?”
“The second line: ‘For ten years the dragon languishes in the well; in a single day, it soars to the clouds.’”
With that, Xu Boqing rose and dusted off his robes, cupped his hands, and made a gesture of farewell. “May you, benefactor, achieve great things in the capital and sweep away the afflictions of court.”
The old man snorted, and with a conjurer’s dexterity, flicked a silver ingot from his sleeve, sending it into Xu Boqing’s hand.
“Let’s hope your words prove true…”