The old man spoke clearly, with a tone reminiscent of Changsha, and the content of his speech intrigued me. I secretly observed him; his face was unfamiliar, probably in his seventies, thin and not very tall, with a hint of obscurity between his brows. He wore an old, wrinkled cotton jacket and glasses that looked like the bottom of a beer bottle, probably making him nearly blind.

His attire didn’t seem like that of a guest here. However, there are many skilled individuals in my uncle’s teahouse, so the staff didn’t find it strange; these days, you can find all kinds of people. I remained expressionless, watching for his actions. I saw him pick up the magazine and, with his hands behind his back, return to his seat, sitting up straight with a brisk walk. If he wasn’t a martial artist, he must have been a soldier in the past.

There were a few other elderly people at his table, all of them chatting. As soon as the old man returned, they showed respectful expressions, clearly indicating that he was the leader. I quietly moved my tea over and sat in a position behind them, perking up my ears to see what the old man would say.

At first, the group chatted about stocks, which I found rather uninteresting. It wasn’t until half an hour later that the old man remembered he had a magazine. He said, “Oh right, come here, I want to show you something interesting.”

As he spoke, he opened the magazine and turned to the page that had been burned by my cigarette. I thought, “This guy might really know something,” and I didn’t dare to breathe too loudly as I listened. The old man continued, “Take a look at this map and see if you can find anything special. Let’s test you.”

The elderly men looked at the map and chattered away. What could be special about a map with a hole burned in it from a cigarette? Yet those old men managed to come up with all sorts of things, with a few even discussing the concept of a tripartite power structure. The leading old man shook his head, indicating that none of their answers were correct.

I was itching to know the answer, hoping they would reveal it soon. I would have surrendered if necessary. When no one could come up with an answer, the old man chuckled, suddenly lowering his voice to say something I couldn’t understand. The others immediately became excited, all wanting to take a look at the magazine.

I felt a wave of frustration; why speak in a dialect that I couldn’t understand? Was it really my fate to be left out of this? Unexpectedly, the next thing I knew, all their conversations switched to that strange language. I listened carefully for a long time and could only ascertain that it wasn’t a dialect of Chinese. Where on earth were these old men from?

After a while, I couldn’t take it anymore; my mind was getting heated. I thought, “If you won’t let me understand, I’ll just ask you directly. You can’t possibly ignore me, right?” Resolutely, I stood up and walked over to their side, pretending to be an eager young learner, and asked, “Where are you gentlemen from? Why does this language sound so strange to me?”

This was quite abrupt in Hangzhou, unlike in Beijing where everyone knows each other in the teahouse courtyard. As soon as I said it, I regretted it, worried they might give me a disapproving look.

To my surprise, the old men were momentarily taken aback before bursting into laughter. The one holding the book said, “Kid, it’s normal that you don’t understand; this is the Miao language, and there are probably no more than a thousand people in the whole country who can speak it.”

I was astonished and asked, “So you gentlemen are Miao? You don’t look like it at all!”

The old men burst into laughter again and didn’t answer me. I noticed that these few people were quite talkative, and since they weren’t from this area, I thought I might be able to ask something interesting, so I followed the momentum and asked, “Gentlemen, please stop laughing. I just heard this old gentleman mention something about feng shui. This map was made by me; could it possibly have some hidden significance?”

The leading old man looked me over and said, “Young man, you’re also interested in feng shui? This is knowledge you wouldn’t understand.”

“I can understand! I can understand!” I was so eager that I almost wanted to lick his feet to get him to speak. “Why don’t you tell me a bit more, so I can broaden my horizons?”

The old man exchanged glances with the others and said, “Actually, it’s nothing much. You see those three points you made? Their locations are quite special. If you connect them and look at them from a horizontal perspective, what do you see?”

I picked up the magazine, and upon looking, I suddenly felt a chill run through me. “This is!” I gasped, my mouth agape.

It turned out that the locations of Qimeng Mountain’s Western Zhou tomb, the Reclining Buddha Ridge’s stupa in Guangxi, and the underwater tomb in Xisha, when connected by curves along the coastline of China, formed a very familiar shape. Upon closer inspection, it was unmistakably a dragon-like vein appearing faintly!

I almost slapped myself, thinking, Wu Xie, how could you be so foolish! You didn’t even think to analyze the map and just focused on the different dynasties of these places, forgetting their interconnections.

Seeing my astonishment, the old man knew I had grasped the clue and seemed to feel a bit of appreciation. He said, “It’s a not-so-obvious ‘water dragon.’ To put it nicely, it’s called a hidden dragon emerging from the sea. However, this layout is still missing something; it lacks a dragon head.” As he spoke, he picked up his cigarette and pointed it at the magazine, directly at the location of Changbai Mountain.

The magazine started to smoke, but I couldn’t react at all. I was stunned for a moment before hurriedly asking him, “This—this, Master, what is the significance of this layout?”

The old man chuckled, “You see, this is called viewing the peak from the side as a ridge. Look at these points; they connect to the Changbai Mountain range, the Qinling Mountains, the Qimeng Mountain system, and the Kunlun Mountains where they enter the earth. This is what we call a thousand dragons pressing their tails. Several dragon veins in China are interconnected underground, and when viewed as a whole for feng shui, there are naturally countless places that gather energy and conceal wind. The points you marked are all crucial treasure eyes, because one end of this line is in the water while the other is on land, hence it’s called the water dragon.”

“However, this kind of grand feng shui is not practical. The dragon veins discerned from such feng shui are quite abstract; we call it a big-headed dragon. In ancient times, this was used to divine the fortunes of the world, and the location of Beijing was determined based on this. But selecting tombs for emperors—this feng shui is too grand. I only understand a bit of the surface. If we’re talking about masters, it would be the Wang Canghai from the early Ming Dynasty; grand feng shui was his forte.”

Upon hearing this, my eyes suddenly lit up, and I felt as if all my senses were connected. All the things I couldn’t figure out rushed into my mind at once.

Why did the hexagonal bell from the corpse cave of Wufeng Ridge outside the Lu Wang Palace appear in the underwater tomb? Why did the relics in the Western Zhou tomb turn into snake-browed copper fish? The reason was too simple: because Wang Canghai had been to all these places.

The “treasure eye” of a water dragon is generally a place where the dragon vein gathers wind and energy, and it is usually where buildings or tombs have already been constructed. Although it is still unclear what the purpose of placing the copper fish at these treasure eyes is, according to common practices in feng shui, this particular feng shui line, known as the “big head dragon,” is set up for the dragon head on Changbai Mountain.

All of this is for the Yunding Tiangong (Cloud Top Heavenly Palace), no wonder he is so fascinated; he has invested such tremendous effort into it. So, who exactly is buried in the heavenly palace beneath the snow layer?

The old man saw me lost in thought, probably unaware of what I was thinking, and called the others to get up, stuffing a magazine into my hands, then waved for the bill. I was so caught up in my thoughts that I didn’t react immediately. By the time I remembered to ask for his contact information, he had already walked out of the tea house. I chased after him and just as I did, I saw him take off his glasses. When I looked at his eyes and facial features, I was taken aback and involuntarily stopped in my tracks.

There was an extremely terrifying scar that started from the corner of his eye, cutting across his nose and reaching the other corner of his eye. The bridge of his nose had a noticeable indentation, as if it had been cut by some sharp object. When I saw his eyes, I was startled again and forgot to continue my pursuit, and as a result, that group of people got into their car and left.

I thought for a moment and felt that this old man had an extraordinary demeanor but lacked vitality; he was likely the “Chen Pi A Si” that Lao Hai mentioned today! We had just talked about him during dinner, and now I ran into him at the tea house—what a coincidence.

I pondered this and suddenly felt that Lao Hai’s seemingly random visit to Hangzhou to tell me a story was a bit abrupt. Could it be that this old man had some ulterior motive with Lao Hai? Had he set up a trap to draw me into the situation?

This old man looked a bit sly; I couldn’t let my guard down. I cursed inwardly, unsure of what kind of scheme was at play, and began to feel suspicious. Recalling Lao Hai’s narrative, wasn’t this old man supposed to be blind? How could he still see? Moreover, he spoke with such vigor; he didn’t seem like a ninety-year-old man.

However, after figuring out the situation with the big-headed hidden dragon, I felt much more at ease, and that eerie feeling dissipated. I turned back to settle the bill and went home for a good, solid sleep.

I woke up the next day at noon, glanced at the invitation, and realized with dismay that it had already ended. I called Lao Hai, but he didn’t have much to say, only that there weren’t many bidders for that fish. I felt a wave of relief; only a fool would buy such a thing. After exchanging a few words, I could tell Lao Hai was quite busy, and it seemed he had bought quite a few things, so I decided not to bother him further.

In the afternoon, I didn’t feel like going to the shop. I wanted to return to the tea house to wait for that person, but then I received a call from the shop on my uncle’s side, saying someone was looking for me.

I thought to myself, could it be that old itch again? My heart raced as I drove over. When I walked into the shop, I saw someone sitting on the guest sofa, and I nearly felt my eyes sting with tears. I immediately shouted, “Panzi!”