Chapter 87 — Physiognomy

It took some doing to shake the filth off his feet, and when Zhang Qingyue finally turned around, the little girl had already gone over to the old man's side and was whispering something to him. The old man listened, nodded slightly, and a faint smile hung at the corner of his mouth.

Zhang Qingyue's face flushed. He could not tell whether the two of them were laughing at him, but after a moment's hesitation he walked over anyway and said, "Sir, what did you mean when you said just now that I have the look of great misfortune?"

The old man narrowed his eyes, studied him for a moment, and smiled. "Young brother, your brow is full enough, but your cheeks are a touch thin. You are hardly one born to wealth and honor—would I be right?"

Zhang Qingyue's confidence in him rose another notch, and he nodded. "You are right, sir. I come from a farming family."

The old man smiled, smoothed his robe lightly with an easy air, and said, "I also observe that your eyebrows are thick and close, straight and upright, but at the outer tip of the right brow there is a small mole. That position governs one's parents and elders. I fear your father and mother are no longer in this world?"

Zhang Qingyue started, and his trust grew another notch. He nodded again and again. "Sir, you truly have a discerning eye. My parents died when I was very small."

The old man smiled. "Perhaps young brother would let me have a look at your hand as well?"

By now Zhang Qingyue was seven or eight parts convinced. He held out his hand at once, and the old man was smiling and about to examine it when the little girl darted in again, seized Zhang Qingyue's hand, and gave it a look in imitation of her grandfather, then chuckled and ran off again—leaving several sticky patches of rock sugar on his palm, which was most unpleasant.

Zhang Qingyue was left blinking, but he could hardly scold a child, so he resigned himself to his bad luck. The old man handed him a handkerchief and said with a smile, "My granddaughter is a mischievous one. Young brother, forgive her."

Zhang Qingyue gave a wry laugh and wiped his hand clean with the handkerchief. When he looked up, the old man and his granddaughter were standing together again, chatting and laughing, though he could not tell about what.

Seeing Zhang Qingyue look their way, the old man beamed and said, "Finished? Then let me read your palm, young brother."

Zhang Qingyue held out his hand as told, but kept his eyes fixed on the little girl, afraid she would make trouble again. This time, however, she seemed quite quiet, only standing there giggling at him without pause—and heaven knew what she found so funny.

The old man looked for a moment, then his expression abruptly changed, and he cried, "Aiya!"

Zhang Qingyue started. "What is it?"

The old man wasted no words, only pointed at the center of Zhang Qingyue's palm. "Young brother, do you see this line of destiny of yours?"

Zhang Qingyue glanced at it, naturally having no idea what mystery it held, and said blankly, "What?"

The old man's face was grave. "I see that this line of yours is not as other men's. Right at the beginning there is a great break. This signifies that in your childhood you must have passed through a great calamity, and that calamity ran deep and vast—most likely your close kin and dear friends were caught up in it as well, with scant hope of survival. From the look of it, I fear your father and mother too met their unfortunate end in that same tribulation."

A pang seized Zhang Qingyue's heart. Now he believed the old man utterly, and he said in a choked voice, "Sir, you—you are a living immortal. Not a word of it is wrong."

The old man sighed, then went on, "Such a calamity would ordinarily have been impossible even for you to escape. But there is blessing in your fate: at the place of that great break, a 'Jade Renewal Pattern' frames it, joining the line of destiny and restoring the thread of life. That is good fortune in the midst of misfortune."

At that moment Puzhao's face suddenly rose before Zhang Qingyue's mind. He was silent a while, then gritted his teeth and said, "Then, sir, you said today that I still bear the look of great misfortune. I would ask you to tell me what disaster or fortune awaits. Pray enlighten me!"

The old man smiled slightly, then suddenly coughed twice. "This... this..."

Zhang Qingyue was surprised. "What is it, sir?"

The old man laughed. "To be frank with you, young brother, when I first set out in this trade I laid down a rule that I must be paid for reading a face. So..."

Zhang Qingyue understood and said quickly, "Please, sir, name your price. How much?"

The old man looked at him with a smile. "Ten taels of fine silver a reading."

Zhang Qingyue had already reached for his waist, but at these words he froze. "So much? But I have only four taels of silver in all."

The old man frowned, then said, "Very well, very well—four taels it is. Today I have a certain affinity with you, young brother, so let it count as a kindness to you."

Zhang Qingyue was overcome with gratitude. The silver did him little good anyway, and he could manage well enough in the wild; so he gave the old man all four taels.

The old man put the silver away, straightened his expression, and studied Zhang Qingyue's face carefully once more. "Young brother, I see that between your brows there is darkness, black clouds over the crown—plainly your luck is poor. On the road ahead you will surely meet many dangers and hardships. Better to turn back, and all will dissolve of itself."

Zhang Qingyue was startled. "Is that all?"

The old man nodded. "That is all."

Zhang Qingyue hesitated. "But I have urgent business to the east..."

The old man urged, "Young brother, what business is more important than your own life? Turn back." With that he cupped his hands and said, "To meet in the rivers and lakes is itself a kind of fate; another day we shall have occasion to meet again. Let us part here."

Zhang Qingyue knitted his brows and nodded blankly, watching the old man and the little girl walk away until they vanished. Standing there amid the stream of people, he felt as though he had suddenly lost his bearings and knew not where to go.

Around the corner of the street, the old man and the little girl hid themselves at once, then turned back and poked their heads out a little to watch Zhang Qingyue. The youth stood amid the passing crowd with a somewhat dazed look on his face. After a while he turned and walked on.

"Heh heh, another four taels in hand." The old man's manner changed all at once. He drew the silver from his waist and examined it carefully, chuckling without end. The little girl, however, looked calm, glanced at him, and said, "Grandfather, why are you putting on that act again?"

The old man chuckled, put the silver away, and said to his granddaughter, "Xiaowan, I truly did not raise you for nothing. Not yet ten, and already you can read half a man's life. In time you will surely be a peerless talent in the art of physiognomy."

The girl called Xiaowan gave a sniff. "What is so hard to understand in those shallow books on faces? It is plainly you, Grandfather, who never worked hard in the past—and you still have the gall to say such things!"

So it was that of these two, grandfather and granddaughter, the one with the real skill was the little girl. She had read a good part of Zhang Qingyue's fate and, when she had a moment, told her grandfather.

The old man clearly doted on this granddaughter and did not mind her scolding. He laughed and said, "Do not look down on those few books on faces I gave you. The Nine Calculations of Destiny and The Jade Pillar Physiognomy were both handed down from our ancestor Canglanzi. You are simply gifted by nature and have a flair for this art. Take an ordinary man—heh, take me, for instance: a lifetime of reading and I still cannot make head or tail of it!"