Nine Lives of Unjust Suffering Chapter 2

Shareholders of Guangyuan Shop Dissolve Their Partnership; A Fortune-Teller Discusses the Stars on Saddle Street

Guangdong has long been known as a region of immense prosperity, a gathering place for merchants where goods flow freely. Before the sea routes were fully opened, those traveling to the northern provinces mostly went through Jiangxi. On the border between Jiangxi and Guangdong stands Mount Nanxiong. This area falls under the jurisdiction of Nanxiong Prefecture in Guangdong, and since all travelers had to pass through here, the Imperial Court established a customs house to collect taxes. Nanxiong thus became a major thoroughfare for the north and south, crowded with merchants. Those with talent for trade and deep pockets flocked there to open firms and shops.

Among them was a silk and satin shop trading under the name “Guangyuan.” This establishment was a partnership between two brothers-in-law: one named Leang Chiu-tai and the other Ling Tsung-hak, both natives of Panyu County in Guangzhou Prefecture. Ling Tsung-hak was the brother of Leang Chiu-tai’s wife. The two men were of one mind, and their business flourished. Later, Ling struck a massive fortune elsewhere and returned to the provincial capital to live a life of leisure, leaving the Nanxiong business entirely to Leang’s management.

Unexpectedly, joy gave way to sorrow. Not long after Ling Tsung-hak began enjoying his wealth, he passed away. He left behind a son named Kwai-hing (courtesy name Pei-pak), who had spent his life immersed in study and had purchased a title in the Imperial Academy to pave his way for the provincial exams. At this time, he was in mourning, living simply and observing the rites.

A little over a year later, Leang Chiu-tai also fell ill and died in Nanxiong. Leang had two sons: the elder named Tin-loi and the younger Kwan-loi, who were living in Tam Village, Panyu. Upon receiving the obituary, they rushed through the night to attend the funeral. After the funeral arrangements were completed in Nanxiong, they looked into the business and found it had been declining.

The two brothers consulted: “Our mother is elderly,” the brothers reasoned, “and it is not convenient for us to be far away. Having a shop here without anyone to manage it will come to nothing. Our cousin Ling is a scholar and unlikely to want to manage it himself. We should write to him, invite him here, and have him witness the sale of the business to someone else. Once we have the silver from the sale, we can split it according to the original shares. This way, we settle our concerns here and have the cash to start a new venture back in the provincial capital. Surely Cousin Ling will agree.”

Having decided, they sent a letter to Ling Kwai-hing. Upon receiving the news, Kwai-hing indeed came to Nanxiong.

The brothers explained their plan, and Kwai-hing nodded in agreement. Once the three had made up their minds, they looked for a buyer. Within a few days, the transaction was settled, and the proceeds were naturally split down the middle. All that remained were twenty-four jade flower pots and a set of rosewood tables and chairs. Because they couldn’t agree on a price, no buyer had taken them.

Tin-loi consulted with Kwai-hing: “We can’t just keep delaying for the sake of these two items. Since they are things everyone can use, why don’t our two families just split them?”

Kwai-hing replied, “It’s a shame to break up a perfectly good complete set. Why don’t we both write down a secret bid? Whoever offers the higher price pays the money and takes the items; the one who doesn’t get the items gets the cash instead. Wouldn’t that be better?”

“Cousin, your suggestion is excellent,” Tin-loi agreed.

So, they each wrote their bids on slips of paper and handed them over. They invited witnesses and opened them in public. Tin-loi had bid 105 taels, while Kwai-hing had only bid 80 taels. Tin-loi immediately weighed out 105 taels of silver and handed it personally to Kwai-hing.

Kwai-hing suddenly felt a twinge of regret. He said to Tin-loi, “To be honest, I actually quite like these items. It’s just that I’ve been home studying all this time and didn’t know their true value, so I bid too low. How about this: I’ll add another five taels to make it 110? Would you be willing to let me have them instead?”

Tin-loi was an easygoing man by nature. He was just about to agree when an old shop assistant acting as a witness interrupted:

“This won’t do! A public bid is a matter of utmost fairness. Now that the bids are opened, if you start raising the price, what was the point of the secret ballot in the first place? You might as well have negotiated face-to-face! If raising the price after the fact were allowed, the whole process becomes a redundant waste of effort. Furthermore, if young Master Ling can raise his price, Master Leang could naturally do the same. If Master Leang also happens to love these items and starts outbidding you, wouldn’t this turn into a bitter dispute? In my humble opinion, the items should go to Master Leang according to the original bid. We shouldn’t let such a trivial matter cause a rift between cousins. This is just my old-fashioned view; whether you follow it is up to you two gentlemen.”

The crowd chimed in: “The old gentleman is right! If we don’t follow the rules, our presence here as witnesses was a waste of time!”

Pressed by public opinion, Kwai-hing had no choice but to accept Tin-loi’s silver, though he remained deeply resentful. Once all matters were settled, the three cousins chartered a boat and returned to the provincial capital. Tin-loi and his brother headed back to Tam Village, which we shall leave aside for now.

The Fortune-Teller of Saddle Street

After parting ways with Tin-loi, Kwai-hing sent his servants ahead with the luggage while he took a stroll through the city. By chance, he passed by Saddle Street and noticed a large crowd gathered in front of a house. Looking up, he saw a brand-new sign hanging by the door that read:

“Ma Ban-xin of Jiangxi: Expert in Six-Line Divination, Master of Fate and Physiognomy, and Specialist in Yin-Yang Geomancy.”

Kwai-hing thought to himself, “I’ve walked this way many times and never seen this place. He must be a newcomer. Why not go in and see what he has to say?”

He pushed through the crowd and stepped inside. He saw a divination altar with a man sitting behind it. The man wore a small skullcap, a blue cloth robe, and a dark teal feather-fabric vest. Around his neck was a stiff collar made of magnolia-white silk. He was dark-skinned and thin, with a pointed face and a yellowish “eight-character” (handlebar) mustache. Perched on his nose was a pair of reading glasses with tortoiseshell frames and brass legs. In his left hand, he held a three-foot-long tobacco pipe, puffing clouds of smoke from his nose. His right hand held a folding fan of white paper and yellow bamboo, which he held half-open, swaying his body rhythmically. Through the crystal lenses of his glasses, his triangular eyes flickered, opening and closing fitfully.

Kwai-hing cupped his hands in greeting: “Greetings, Master!”

Hearing the call, Ma Ban-xin hurriedly bowed, set down his pipe, adjusted his glasses, and replied, “Greetings, greetings.” As he spoke, he sized Kwai-hing up. He saw a young man with a pale, delicate face, darting little eyes, thin lips, high cheekbones, and slightly flared nostrils. He wore a black cloth skullcap with a walnut-sized blue knot (a sign of mourning) and a sky-blue sapphire ornament on the brim. He was dressed in a fine blue robe, holding a silk palace-style fan, and wearing Beijing-style mourning shoes with soles over an inch thick. His movements were flighty and restless.

Having taken his measure, the fortune-teller already had a plan. He reached under the table, pulled out a stool, and said, “Please, sit.”

Kwai-hing sat without ceremony. “Master, you must be new here. Seeing your many talents, I’ve come to ask you to calculate my horoscope.”

Ma Ban-xin replied, “In that case, please provide your Eight Characters (Bazi).” Kwai-hing then provided his exact birth date and hour.

Ma Ban-xin put on his glasses, picked up his brush, and wrote down the characters. He established the “Four Pillars,” tilted his head to study them for a moment, and then spent some time calculating on his fingers. Setting down the brush, he removed his glasses, stroked his beard, gave a small cough, and looked Kwai-hing in the eye.

“This horoscope,” he said, “is one of complete wealth and honor. I have been traveling the rivers and lakes as a fortune-teller for over twenty years, and I have encountered very few like it. I remember fifteen years ago in Beijing, someone brought me a set of Eight Characters to calculate. I determined that the man was not only wealthy and noble but possessed both civil and military genius—truly a man above ten thousand and second only to one. However, there was one strange thing: in his later years, he hit a cycle of ‘Seven Killings’ and ‘Yang Blade.’ According to the movements of the flying stars, those two years coincided with the ‘Grave Gate,’ ‘Mourning Clothes,’ ‘Death Spirit,’ ‘White Tiger,’ ‘Violent Ruin,’ ‘Sky Dog,’ and ‘Sky Crying’ stars. He was destined for a violent end by the blade.

“At the time, I followed the books and told him the good news, but when I reached that later stage, I only dared to say he might suffer a small loss and should be cautious in his daily movements. You see, for those of us in this trade, such a phrase is meant to help a person avoid disaster. I didn’t know whose horoscope it was then. Only later did someone tell me: it was General Nian Gengyao! At first, I didn’t believe it—how could someone as glorious as General Nian die by the sword? I thought my skills were lacking. But then Emperor Kangxi passed away, the current Emperor Yongzheng took the throne, and before long, the General was indeed executed! Only then did I dare to admire my own accuracy.

“Looking at your horoscope today, while your rank might not reach General Nian’s height, I say without flattery: Top Scholar, Chancellor, or Duke—these titles cannot escape you. Furthermore, the later your life goes, the better your luck becomes. Your ‘Day Pillar’ sits on the ‘Star of Literature,’ signaling the birth of noble sons. Your late luck is beyond words. In many ways, your fate is ten times better than General Nian’s!”

Kwai-hing was so delighted he practically danced. “Please, Master, write a full, formal analysis. What is your fee?”

“For a destiny like yours,” Ma Ban-xin replied, “a simple sheet isn’t enough to cover a lifetime of achievements. It’s better to write a full-bound book.”

“Then a book it is. How much?”

“My rule is this: for ordinary people, a bound analysis is five mace of silver. For the desperately poor, I charge nothing and give them the book as a gift to help them find luck. For the Great and Noble, I ask for a bit more as a share of their luck, but I don’t haggle. I leave it to the person’s character. As the saying goes, ‘Great character brings great fortune.’ A man of your stature certainly won’t make things difficult for me.”

Kwai-hing clapped his hands. “Excellent! I shall give you one tael of silver. Please take the trouble to write it for me. When will it be ready?”

“A full book cannot be rushed,” the Master said. “I must calculate the movements of the sun and moon, trace the primal breath, consult the seven planets and four extras, and map out the earthly spirits and annual cycles to determine your lifetime’s provisions. It will take about ten days.”

“Ten days is fine,” Kwai-hing said. He handed over the silver, which Ma Ban-xin accepted without hesitation.

“If you don’t mind,” the Master added, “I shall also gift you a face-reading free of charge. You noticed my sign mentions ‘Geomancy’—I am skilled in that as well.”

“You are truly a man of many talents! Is your skill in Feng Shui also high?”

“I dare not boast,” Ma Ban-xin said, “but back in my hometown, I was so accurate in reading the land that people gave me a nickname: ‘The Stone-Piercer’…”

Just as the “Semi-Immortal” was about to speak further, a young servant suddenly approached. Bowing to Kwai-hing, he said, “The Master has returned! Why haven’t you come inside the house yet? His Excellency Lord Chen from next door has come to pay his respects!”

Upon hearing this, Kwai-hing stood up, took his leave of Ma the Semi-Immortal, and followed the servant back home.

Who is this “Lord Chen,” and for what reason has he come to visit Kwai-hing? Listen to the explanation in the next chapter.

Translator’s Note:

The Gateway (Nanxiong): This wasn’t just a town; it was the “Meiling Pass,” the essential land-link between Southern and Northern China. Owning a shop here was like owning prime real estate in a major global trade hub.

The Social Hierarchy: In the Qing Dynasty, Scholars were at the top and Merchants at the bottom. Ling Kwai-hing’s refusal to manage the shop stems from his ego—he bought a scholarly title to distance himself from his “lowly” merchant cousins.

The “Face” Feud: The bidding war over the jade pots isn’t about the money; it’s about Face (Mianzi). By outbidding Kwai-hing, Tin-loi accidentally humiliated his cousin. Kwai-hing’s attempt to change the rules after losing shows his petty, entitled character.

The “Semi-Immortal”: Fortune tellers (like Ma) were common in Saddle Street. In Chinese literature, their appearance usually foreshadows a tragic “fate” that the characters are too proud to avoid.

Wealth in Silver: The bids were in taels. A 105-tael bid was a massive sum—roughly several years’ income for a commoner—proving just how high the stakes were for these two families.