The King of Hell's judgment in the Underworld must have terrified him. In the 阎罗殿 (Hall of the Dead), cases are judged with fifty lashes first—hence the mark on his butt.
After pondering, I said, "Mr. Zhao, choosing an ancestral grave can't be hasty. Spiritual 墓穴 (tomb sites) are rare, and your family already has abundant blessings. I advise staying in China."
I left it at that—no need to press. Zhao Zhiyong dismissed me, saying, "The world is one family. As a Christian with American citizenship, the King of Hell can't touch me."
Seeing no point in arguing, I pleaded exhaustion and declined his offer. As the saying goes: "If the King of Hell calls for you at the third watch, who can keep you till the fifth?" Zhao Zhiyong's karma, 本该 at his natural death, seemed to be approaching faster...
Zhao Na drove me home, humming happily about her dad leaving. At my building, she said, "Let's go to a bar—it's early!"
Preoccupied, I declined. "Another time—I'm beat."
She pouted. "Act your age!"
I forced a laugh, urging her to go home. She muttered, "You sound like my mom," before speeding off in her BMW.
Am I really old? I smiled wryly, vowing to embrace youth.
Home at last, I called Grandpa again—no answer. But midnight brought a text: "On a special mission. Take care. Build virtue, never reveal heavenly secrets." Further texts vanished.
The next day, I took the bus to Yi Zhai, noting Old Wang's empty street stall. Settling into the rosewood chair, I reread Feng Shui Zhai Zhi and Maoshan Technique Records. Their diagrams and theories aligned perfectly, deepening my understanding.
In metaphysics, street fortune-tellers thrive, but my dojo stayed quiet. For a week, I studied Five Elements and Eight Trigrams, using the web to clarify doubts. My foundation held.
Zhao Na visited daily at first, but my focus bored her—she stopped coming after three days. Two weeks passed uneventfully.
One noon, as I compared dragon-tracing secrets in the books, a knock came. "Hello— is the master here?"
A middle-aged man in a white shirt entered, his glowing forehead and silver temples hinting at wealth. Few commoners dared enter Yi Zhai's grandeur. "Have a seat. I'm the master—how may I help?"
He flinched at my age. "No—just surprised you're so young." He smiled awkwardly. "I'm a friend of Jin Dajun. He said you're the real deal."
Dajun... I recalled Madam Dong's lover. "My fees are steep."
"Money's no issue." He offered, "May I smoke?"
"Please."
Watching him pull out a rare "Nanjing 95 Supreme" cigarette, I knew business was good. "I run a leather market in Tongerbao. Recent floods destroyed my parents' grave—I can't find their remains. Digging them up for a DNA test is out of the question. Can you locate the grave? Money is no object."