by Mingmei Yip
Laozi was the founder of Daoism, the most influential philosophy and religion in China. Decades later, disgusted by human machinations, he rode an ox to the West and never returned. Before his departure, Laozi had been asked by the gate’s guard to set down his wisdom. The result was the famous Daode Jing, Classic of the Way and its Virtue.
“Wow, what a story! And this is the famous Laozi,” I muttered to myself while continuing to look.
Just then a crisp male voice called out, “Miss, you want to buy some incense to make offerings to the gods?”
I turned and saw studying me curiously from behind the desk a sixtyish, narrow-shouldered man.
“No, thanks.” I smiled. “I’m Christian.”
“Christian? No good. You’re Chinese. Should be either Buddhist or Daoist. Christian only one god, no use.”
I would have been offended by this remark had I not found him likable and his comment amusing. “Why is it no use?”
He pointed to the many paintings on the wall and introduced each. “Mother Empress of the West, Heaven Emperor, Hell Emperor, Jade Emperor, General of Thunder, God of Happiness, God of Rank, God of Affluence, God of Longevity….”
“Wow.” So many deities in Chinese culture. Now I was grateful that my mother had me baptized as a Christian, so I didn’t have to be bossed around by so many gods but just One. As a free spirit, I had always tried to avoid authorities by drifting around rules like water flowing between rocks.
The man smiled. “See, miss? When you have troubles, there are all these gods and goddesses to look after you. You think your God can do a good job all by Himself, with no assistance?”
I chuckled. “Maybe you’re right. I’ve never thought of that.” Then I said, “I’m looking for Master Soaring Crane. Is he here?”
He widened his eyes to scrutinize me, then winked. “Miss, what kind of fortune you want—career, success, drop-onto-your-lap fortune….” He looked up at me. “Or maybe romance?”
I wanted to say, “That’s none of your business,” but stopped myself since he was friendly and comical. A clown, even if a bored and probably lonely one.
“So, that means the master is here?”
“Yes.” He signaled to the back of the room where there was an exit I had not noticed. “But he rarely sees clients now, since he doesn’t need any more money. He’s rich.”
Rich? Living in this run-down place? But I asked, “So is he involved in some other business?”
He chuckled. “No, from donation, big ones.”
“How?”
“Let me tell you, young miss.”
“My name is Lin. Please go ahead.”
“All right, Miss Lin. Master Soaring Crane’s nickname is Shen Suan, Divine Calculus, meaning that his predictions are extremely accurate, I’d say ninety-nine percent.”
“Why not a hundred?”
His eyes gave out a few mysterious sparks. “Because the remaining one percent is for heaven, not us mortals, to know.”
I nodded, liking the idea.
He went on. “Since Master is so good, people literally flood here to consult him day and night, which means that he could be drowned in money, if he didn’t know how to ‘swim’ in this sea of monetary suffering.”
“Then why doesn’t the master hire an assistant?”
He laughed, showing long, yellowish teeth. “Ha, Miss Lin, you’re so naïve, you think you can learn this kind of skill just like that?” His two fingers collided to give out a small explosion.
“No?” I deliberately pretended ignorance.
“Of course not! You have to be born under a certain star to be endowed with this gift from the highest heaven. Master is so good that after a while he wouldn’t accept any more payments as a means to stop people from crowding his place, ruining his peace, intruding even into his dreams. He made the people stop paying, but now they donate instead—jewelry, antiques, one even a house and a piece of land.”
“Oh, my, then why is he still working?”
“To help people, what else? When Master first started his consultation here, the Daoist priests let him use this space for free. Now Master is paying back their kindness by using his donation money to renovate the temple. The work will start in a month and that’s why you don’t see any visitors around. It’s temporarily closed.”
“Then will the master still do consultation after the renovation?”
“It all depends on where his karma will take him. He said you never know, sometimes once in your lifetime you might run into someone whose star shines so bright that you are transformed. He doesn’t want to miss this kind of destined, once-in-a-lifetime encounter. Miss, haven’t you heard the phrase ‘the loneliest person is the one whose rival never shows up’?”
I was trying to digest this when he spoke again. “Or the saying that ‘the happiest chess master is the one who finally meets his worthy rival’?”
The Chinese also say, “Never judge a person merely by his appearance.” This small, insignificant-looking man was definitely not to be slighted. I could only imagine what his master Soaring Crane would be like.
Just then an old man materialized in the small hall. He also had a slight build with delicate-seeming bones and finely formed features. His long, deep blue silk gown, though frayed, enhanced his detached air. Although he wore dark glasses, I sensed he possessed the ability to “see.” Though his eyes were concealed, his qi energy was penetrating. The gloomy room now seemed lit up by an invisible light.
“Ah Hung, if you don’t keep your voice down, how can I meditate?”
I was not at all surprised that his voice was sonorous like a bronze bell.
“Please offer tea to this young lady guest. Never forget our temple rules, and rules number one and two are to be courteous and to make excellent tea.”
Since he was supposed to be blind, how could he tell that I was young, a guest, and a woman?
Ah Hung immediately rose from his chair and went up to the old man. “Master, Miss Lin would like to see you. I’ve been chattering and entertaining her.”
“You mean gossiping.”
“I mean exchanging information.”
“You’d better watch your glib tongue, Ah Hung.”
“Yes, Master. Tonight I’ll vigorously wash my mouth with soap and scrape my tongue with a knife.”
“Better still is to wash your mouth with alcohol and scrape your tongue with a razor.”
“Yes, Master, thank you once again for your valuable advice.”
I chuckled at this pretend chiding from the master and his disciple’s pretend fear; it was obvious they had a genuine bond of affection.
Both were silent for a moment, so I took the opportunity to chime in. “Master Soaring Crane, Mr. Ah Hung was just telling me how wonderful you are and how marvelously precise your predictions.”
He turned to me; his glasses were two bottomless dark wells.
“Please follow me, Miss Lin. I’ve been waiting for you for a long time.”
How could he have known that I’d be coming? I felt some disquiet now in this remote, nearly empty temple.
As I followed Soaring Crane, Ah Hung gave me a thumbs-up and winked to me, as if to indicate how fortunate I was to be in the presence of the master.
I smiled.
The master slightly turned his head. “Ah Hung, don’t make funny faces. Some visitors might take this as an offense.”
Was this old man really blind or just faking it? Then I quickly killed my disrespectful thought. What if he was reading my mind right now?
Despite the two monks’ good humor, as I followed the master somehow I felt like a mischievous student about to be disciplined by the school principal. Treading after him and listening to his cloth slippers’ authoritative thudding on the temple floor, I thought the sound seemed to synchronize with my thumping heart and the whiny squeaks of my sneakers.
Finally we reached an entrance. The wooden door creaked as he pushed it open to reveal a small room.
&
nbsp; Soaring Crane went straight to sit behind a large wooden desk. “Miss Lin, please take your seat.”
I sat across from him. The desk was covered with knickknacks—brushes crammed into a holder, ink sticks, small ceramic ink dishes, rolled-up sheets of rice paper, scroll weights. Paintings and calligraphy covered the walls, and the fragrance of incense in a small burner wafted into my nostrils.
Before I had a chance to say anything, Ah Hung came in the room holding a lacquered tray with a teapot and two teacups. Carefully he put all the items on the desk, then poured us tea. After that, he left, this time without a word or a mischievous wink.
Master Soaring Crane picked up his cup and extended his hand toward my direction. “Please use tea,” he said, then took a long, noisy sip.
I lifted the cup and let the hot steam give my face a much-needed minisauna.
The master said in his sonorous voice, “Even as a child, Ah Hung was very naughty and curious. He likes to gossip, but no harm is done.”
Continuing to enjoy my tea facial, I studied the enigmatic mask across from me. Ah Hung already looked pretty old, maybe in his mid or late sixties, so how old was this Soaring Crane? Eighty? Ninety? Or a hundred, even older than this temple? He could be a temple antique, or a moving mummy!
The master spoke again. “Ah Hung was an orphan; I single-handedly raised him in this temple.”
Not sure how to react, I said, “Sorry to hear that. Master, do you know who his parents are?”
“It doesn’t matter, does it?” He paused to sip more tea, then said, “I was never married, so I raised and educated him as my own child. He was a gift from heaven, and we feel deeply connected with each other.”
“How did you adopt him?” I was sure there was nothing like an adoption agency in this remote part of China.
The fortune-teller tilted his head and laughed, his dark glasses reflecting a goddess, then a fierce-looking god on the wall. Too bad he was blind. Without his dark glasses I might have some idea of what was on his mind.
“It was Ah Hung who came to me.”
“As a baby? How?” Did he crawl here on four limbs? I almost chuckled.
“One cold evening he was left at this temple’s entrance. I had just finished with my last client and gone to the kitchen to cook myself dinner when I heard a cry. It was so loud and urgent that I immediately knew it was a call from above. The cry seemed to be shaking loose heaven and earth while stirring up mountainous waves in the ocean. So I dropped everything and dashed out. On the ground outside the temple entrance was a soggy, squirming bundle.
“From that moment on, I knew our fates were linked. The temple monks and I taught him everything—reading, writing, Chinese aphorisms, and philosophy. He never went to school.”
“Because no school would take him?”
The master laughed his bell-like laugh, tilting his head. “Oh, no, because little Ah Hung just wouldn’t leave me or this temple. I once sent him to a nearby village school, but he caused so much trouble that finally both the school and I gave up. He just wanted to stay with me here and play with the Daoist monks. As a child, he followed me everywhere: when I performed rituals, doing Subtle Purple Calculus, even on trips out of the temple to the houses of rich clients. What he found here in the temple were his toys—cushions, statues, vases, musical instruments, brushes, ink stones. Although a very naughty child, he never broke anything or bothered the monks.”
Soaring Crane paused a moment, then continued, “I was very grateful for the monks who let me work here and raise him.”
“But you also attract huge donations for them.”
He “looked” at me through his dark glasses. “Miss Lin, never think of how you help others, only how you’re being helped. Heaven will know when or when not to reward.”
I sipped my tea, digesting every word uttered through the master’s wrinkled lips. “So, Master, how long have you been here?”
“Like Ah Hung, I was an orphan left at this temple door and picked up by my master, a Daoist monk who taught me to read people’s destinies.”
“How cruel that parents actually abandon their children.”
The master studied me for a while. “This has nothing to do with the parents, but in what place the child’s stars shine. Maybe to their parents they are worthless burdens, but to this temple, they are gifts from heaven.”
“Master, both you and the temple are very compassionate.”
“Compassion and generosity are the two virtues that keep this world from falling apart.” A long pause, then he suddenly changed the subject of our conversation. “Miss Lin, did someone send you to me?”
I stared at my own pale reflection in his glasses and felt a shiver. Instead of answering his question, I asked, “Master Soaring Crane, since I haven’t made an appointment, how did you know that you had a visitor and that I’m a woman?”
He laughed. “Miss Lin, I’ve been waiting for you for ten years.”
“How…?”
“Let me make it real simple. Ten years ago my Subtle Purple Calculus told me that I would have a woman visitor today, exactly ten years later.”
“Oh… excuse my ignorance, Master. How can this be possible, and what exactly is this Subtle Purple Calculus?”
“A thousand-year-old Chinese astrology,” he said. “So, did someone send you to me?”
“Hmm… yes and no, Master.”
He counted his fingers while muttering something in a strangely appealing manner. “Ten years ago, a very special woman came for my consultation. I believe she’s related to you.”
Wow. How could he tell?
I blurted out, “Yes, she’s my aunt.”
I bit my lips. Damn! Didn’t Mindy Madison instruct me to tell him nothing but lies?
The master went on. “I’ll never forget this woman because of her constantly transforming qi. In half an hour, it kept changing from being very full and strong to the opposite. Because of this extreme qi swing, I could tell she’d lead an unusual, dangerous life.”
“Master, I think… she’s already dead.” This time I remembered to lie.
The old man tilted his head and sniffed the air. “Dead? No. But in between.”
“What do you mean?”
“She is now hanging on a thin thread between life and death.”
“Why would that be? Because she’s a bad person?”
“She’s neither good nor bad.”
“What do you mean? That she’s neutral?”
He shook his head. “It all depends who’s judging her.”
I digested his words for seconds, then I lied again. “I think she’s in a very dire financial situation.” Of course, since my aunt had three million dollars to give me, she couldn’t possibly be poor. Could she?
This time the master shook his head emphatically. “No, she’s rich. But not for long.”
Why did this fortune-teller always contradict what I said?
He took a long sip of his tea. “Miss Lin, tell me your date of birth and the exact time when you were born. Then I will show you the map of your life.”
21
More Predictions
This was the first time I’d encountered a fortune-teller who did not need to see my face, read my palm, or examine my handwriting to give predictions.
Once, years ago when I was a child in Hong Kong, my mother took me to a fortune-teller. I remembered his small face was comically covered by his oversized, chopping-block-thick glasses. He held my small hand in his big one and exclaimed to Mother, “Ah, what an unusual child you have, with all these intricate ‘energy lines’ criss-crossing her palm. Ma’am, your daughter will be rich and have an adventurous life. This is already engraved on her palm like a map!”
Would the blind Master Soaring Crane predict the same thing as the near-blind master in Hong Kong?
After I told Soaring Crane my date and time of birth, he meditated, counted on his fingers, muttered to himself, then picked up his brush and swept it across the rice paper with
swift, bold movements, leaving elegant calligraphic strokes. I was amazed at how well he formed the characters, even though completely blind. After he repeated the process three times, he put the papers into three small red silk pouches, dropped his brush, and “stared” at me.
Although he couldn’t see me (or could he?), the intense scrutiny was nevertheless nerve-racking. I could feel the strong qi from his small frame overwhelming my already-weakening one.
He handed me the pouches.
“Thank you, Master. What are they?”
“Poems.”
“But I rarely read poems. I prefer novels.”
“Then start to read them. They’re novels in a pouch. Besides, don’t thank me, thank heaven. I’m only a messenger bringing you wisdom from above. Take them out to read when you are in trouble, or when you need to pacify your troubled mind.”
I nodded, feeling bewildered.
He continued, “In your life, the money star, shining strong and bright, complements with your transmigration star. That’s why you’re here in the Silk Road, seeking money, adventure.” He paused for seconds before adding, “And danger.”
The word “danger” gave me a chill.
“Miss Lin, you’ll become very rich and famous.”
“It’s very kind of you to say that, Master Soaring Crane. But I’m very poor and have no idea how to make money.” I lied. Being paid fifty thousand U.S. dollars for the trip with the prospect of getting three million later couldn’t be considered poor, after all.
I went on. “Master, I’ve been struggling financially and was helped out by a former professor. So, how am I going to make a lot of money?”
“I’m only telling you what will happen. ‘How’ is not my concern. Anyway, you’ll make lots of money with your own effort, not from another person.”
But I’d be inheriting three millions from someone else.
“However, your father–mother palace is not properly placed in your life’s map, which means your karmic connection with your parents is weak. Indeed very weak.”
I didn’t respond, thinking of the dead father I bitterly hated and the dead mother I dearly loved, one in hell and the other in heaven, I hoped.