"Nine out of ten feng shui masters are poor; those who aren't must be frauds!" Our family was no exception. The exorbitant university tuition loomed like a mountain over Grandpa and me.
Though my parents were buried in the Dragon-Riding Spot, it only sheltered their souls from "yang fire" until their time came for reincarnation—it wouldn't benefit me directly. Grandpa often said, "Treasure tombs that harness heaven and earth's power can only be occupied by the virtuous." The karma in this trade ran deep.
To earn my tuition, Grandpa started waking before dawn to set up a fortune-telling stall at the train station. When the acceptance letter from Northeastern University arrived, he smiled so widely he couldn't close his mouth all night, even sleeping with the letter clutched in his arms. The next day, I naively asked if we had the money. "Don't worry," he said. "I'll handle it."
During the summer break, I worked as a dishwasher in Dadong District while Grandpa traveled frequently for feng shui jobs, sometimes staying away for days. I moved into the restaurant's dormitory.
A month later, just before school started, I returned home and froze: Grandpa lay in bed, his hands and feet covered in snake-like sores, his body emaciated to skin and bone.
"Is that Dabao?" he asked. That's when I realized he'd gone blind.
Grandpa had always been the healthiest elder in the neighborhood, scaling mountains for feng shui surveys without issue. How could he deteriorate so suddenly?
Crying by his bedside, I begged him to explain. He only sighed, calling himself useless for failing to raise the tuition and urging me to sell the house. I refused, insisting he tell me the truth.
He'd pointed the Jade Rabbit and Toad Palace tomb. "Are you crazy?" I snapped, recalling his warnings. "Why would you do that?"
Grandpa explained that on the day the acceptance letter arrived, he'd found Mr. Liu and agreed to point the tomb. Mr. Liu was overjoyed, offering 10,000 yuan upfront.
"Ten thousand isn't enough," Grandpa said. "My grandson will need money for postgraduate studies after three years. You must cover all expenses."
Mr. Liu hesitated, but Grandpa warned, "Pointing this tomb will bring me retribution. I won't live three months, but your family will rise to power."
Mr. Liu's son worked in politics (his rank is unspecified here). Grandpa promised the tomb would help him reach provincial minister level. Tempted, Mr. Liu asked, "Name your price."
"At least 300,000 yuan for university and postgraduate studies. You won't find another master in northeast China who'll do this," Grandpa said.
Mr. Liu's family had made fortunes in business but lacked official connections, hence their desperation. That day, they rushed to Liaozhong. After choosing an auspicious day, Grandpa pointed the Jade Rabbit and Toad Palace spot.
But as soon as the workers finished, Grandpa twisted his ankle on flat ground. Mr. Liu took him to the hospital, where doctors said both ankles' periosteum had ruptured—he'd never walk again.
When Mr. Liu sent Grandpa home, Grandpa said, "I've pointed the tomb. My crippled legs are karmic retribution. Next, I'll develop sores, go blind, and die within three months. Now pay me."
But Mr. Liu refused, claiming the "blessings" hadn't materialized. Grandpa said, "Tonight, visit your ancestral tomb with a red candle. Half a meter from the stele, there's a hole. Shine the light in—you'll see a golden and a silver snake coiling around a rabbit. At dawn, hide in the reeds by Liu'erbao Reservoir with a red cloth over your head—you'll see a golden toad swallowing fish."
Mr. Liu went that night. After witnessing the (prodigy), he returned. Grandpa said, "Northeast China has no gold or silver krait snakes. Those are little dragons I summoned to lock the qi point. The toad at the palace swallows wealth from all directions. Believe me now?"
But Mr. Liu dismissed it as a trick. "Your family will have good luck within two weeks," Grandpa insisted.