Chapter 39.2: Wind and Fire

Li Zhuiyuan picked up his pen and ruler, and following the memory of that night, began sketching the bearded man's pond and the surrounding terrain.

He had grown up with this sort of instruction from his parents, and coupled with an excellent memory, he finished the drawing in about half an hour.

More precise than a sketch and stripped of unnecessary embellishments, the result had a photographic quality when he held it up by its edges.

Using double-sided tape, Li Zhuiyuan stuck the map to the wall, then stood there staring at it.

But the longer he stared, the more his brows furrowed.

He had chosen to draw it out—as one would use scrap paper—to lessen the burden on his mind. Ironically, the map wasn’t helping at all.

Because feng shui aura couldn’t be captured in sharp lines. To calculate it, he still had to conjure a vivid mental image first, layer the feng shui aura on top, and then simulate and compute.

This drawing, honestly... was about as pointless as wearing pants to fart.

He couldn’t use this method. He needed to paint it in ink.

Li Zhuiyuan went downstairs. The house did paper effigy work, so there was no shortage of pigment palettes and brushes on the first floor. He picked a set and rushed back up.

He laid a fresh sheet of paper on the table and began painting with a brush.

But before long, he realized something was off again.

It wasn’t that the method was wrong. The method was clearly correct. The issue was... he didn’t know how to paint.

He’d seen plenty of so-called geniuses in class—kids who just learned fast. No one was born knowing everything.

In a professional field, skipping the learning process made even a genius no better than a fool.

That was also why he could never beat Ah Li at Go. She’d obviously studied it; he hadn’t.

The most straightforward way was to go to the site in person. But since the Water Monkey had already fixated on the bearded man’s house, going back there openly would definitely draw attention.

And this wasn’t the kind of problem you could solve with one glance. It would take a long time to calculate. So going on-site was out. Too risky.

Aunt Liu definitely knew how to paint—he’d seen her techniques when coloring paper effigies, and she clearly had deep artistic skill.

Granny Liu could also paint. She loved sitting at a table designing clothes for Ah Li herself.

But those two were absolutely not going to help him paint this.

Li Zhuiyuan sighed and walked out of his room, heading to the workshop downstairs.

When he pushed open the door, Runsheng was busy etching patterns into iron spikes—soon to become flagpoles.

"Xiaoyuan, you're here."

Runsheng handed him a large porcelain mug.

The mug was a bit dirty. Inside were Agastache leaves soaking.

Li Zhuiyuan took it and gulped down two big sips.

After handing it back, Runsheng downed the rest in one go, then refilled it with hot water from a kettle on a small stove.

"No wonder it's so hot in here. Runsheng-ge, why'd you bring the stove indoors?"

"Heh, sometimes a little extra heat makes crafting easier. It's a bit stuffy, but just drink more water and it's fine."

"You should take care of your health."

"I'm in great shape. Don’t worry—I've had a full meal."

In Runsheng’s worldview, as long as you were fed, nothing else was a problem.

The workshop was indeed crude and cramped. It’d be ideal to have a proper studio someday, with an electric furnace, lathes, and cutters.

That would make crafting anything a breeze.

But for now, he could only dream.

"Ge, I need to talk to you about something."

"Alright, Xiaoyuan, go ahead." Runsheng kept working as he spoke.

Li Zhuiyuan told him about the Water Monkey.

Runsheng raised an eyebrow. "You didn’t tell me when they showed up this morning—worried I’d blow our cover?"

"Yeah."

"What a shame. I’ve seen similar scenes on TV. I think I could’ve pulled it off."

"No rush. Keep refining your acting skills. Your time will come."

"Mm!"

Wiping sweat with a black-and-white towel, Runsheng said, “So, Xiaoyuan, we’re planning to poke them right as they start digging up that grave?”

He even raised a freshly ground iron spike and mimed a stabbing motion.

“Who knows, maybe we won’t have to lift a finger. Little Oriole might take them all down at the memorial feast.”

“That’d be a pity. Watching from the sidelines while someone else fights? Feels wrong.

In the movies, it’s always like this: Little Oriole slaughters a bunch, then a powerhouse shows up and subdues her. At the critical moment, we swoop in.”

“You’ve scripted it all already?”

“Gotta imagine it first. Makes the work more exciting.”

“Runsheng-ge, keep at it. I’m heading back upstairs.”

“Alrighty, don’t worry—leave this to me.”

Buoyed by Runsheng’s cheer, Li Zhuiyuan collected himself and headed upstairs to tackle the problem. Even if he couldn’t sketch it out, he’d brute-force the calculations—even if it meant another nosebleed.

But first, he went to the kitchen. This was when Aunt Liu brewed his herbal medicine.

“Xiaoyuan, you’re here. Hehe, this one’s yours, and this one’s for the dog.”

“Thanks, Aunt Liu. This one’s mine, right?”

He double-checked—he didn’t want to drink the wrong one.

“Yes, that’s right. Drink up.”

The medicine was bitter. He drank it slowly, finally finishing it.

“Aunt Liu, this medicine must be expensive?”

“Not really. Just common tonics. The trick is to carefully simmer them to bring out the properties and let them harmonize. That’s where the effect comes from. But Xiaoyuan, if you’re often getting nosebleeds and dizzy, you must take care of your health. Don’t let yourself burn out and damage your vital essence too early.”

“I understand, Aunt Liu.”

“Also, it’s best to drink this in the morning, right after waking. It works best with morning energy and the body’s revival. Tell you what—from now on, I’ll have Ah Li bring it to you. She already goes to your room every morning anyway.”

Li Zhuiyuan nodded. “Okay.”

He didn’t refuse, knowing this was just Granny Liu and company using him as an excuse to give Ah Li more assignments.

Even if the image felt odd: waking up every morning to a girl bringing him medicine.

Still, for his health—and her recovery—he’d drink it.

He’d had classmates in poor health before, but he always thought he was fine. After all, he and Li Lan had the same condition, and Li Lan was strong enough to camp out at scenes.

But this stuff he was dealing with now? More mentally exhausting than any math problem.

The little black dog woke up when he approached with the bowl, yawned, drank the medicine in one go, and flopped back down with a full belly.

With good food, care, and medicine, its fur had grown glossier. Even its tongue was black. The only white left on its whole body was its teeth.

Aunt Liu had picked it for him. It was likely a high-quality dog.

Back in his room, Li Zhuiyuan was about to roll up his paper balls and brute-force his calculations, but noticed Ah Li had moved to his old seat at the desk.

She wasn’t holding a carving knife anymore—but a brush.

When he stepped closer, he saw she was painting—and nearly done.

She had copied his wall-mounted pond diagram and even added the feng shui aura.

The problem that had stumped him and cost him nosebleeds—solved by her.

When she finished the last stroke, she dipped her finger in water and gently sprinkled it on the paper, letting the ink spread and the aura sharpen.

Done.

She turned and looked at him.

“Ah Li, you’re a genius.”

Her eyes seemed to crinkle slightly at the praise.

Then she stood up, reached out, and hugged him around the neck.

Li Zhuiyuan thought maybe he should teach Great-Grandpa a better affectionate phrase to use in front of Ah Li—or at least secretly suggest one.

Otherwise, moments like this always ended awkwardly.

But for now, he just patted her head and said:

“Ah Li, whatever you want, I’ll buy it. I’ve got money—loads of money.”

Ceremony complete.

Ah Li, satisfied, let go and sat back down.

Li Zhuiyuan sat too, staring at the painting and beginning his calculations.

Every twenty minutes, he marked a point—flag positions.

In the end, he marked twelve points.

Even with all the flag markers set, they lacked a central anchor—but that wasn’t a problem. The anchor would be Little Oriole herself.

Next came the materials. Runsheng would handle the flagpoles, but the flags were tricky—regular fabric would flap in the wind. He needed fixed surfaces, preferably fine yin-wood slats. Only those, engraved with the right patterns, could maximize the effect quickly.

Originally, he had planned to visit a graveyard with Runsheng that night. No digging required—broken exposed coffin boards were common there.

But now...

Li Zhuiyuan turned to the carved wood shavings by Ah Li’s side and the half-split memorial tablet at her feet.

It looked like he had better materials right here.

For example:

These boards from the ancestors.

…

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