Tales of Folk Feng Shui Mysteries

Professor He and I hit it off immediately. He admitted that he was thoroughly fed up with the rigid atmosphere of this place. So as soon as we stepped out of the morgue, he led me straight to find Xing Zhan.

Xing Zhan's office was at the very end of the top floor, tucked into an inconspicuous little room. Inside, piles of documents and books were stacked high. Xing Zhan, wearing glasses, was bent over his desk, measuring something meticulously on a map with a ruler.

"Old Xing, the young master has found something," Professor He announced.

"Wait," Xing Zhan interrupted curtly, absorbed in his measurements. Seeing how focused he was, we stayed silent. Meanwhile, I looked around and noticed that most of the books and files in his office dealt with China's strange legends.

For instance, on the wall hung a massive map of Liaoning Province, marked with circles at various points. One in particular was at the mouth of the Liao River in Yingkou City, highlighted with a red line, accompanied by old black-and-white photos pinned below.

Being a native of Liaoning, I couldn't help but pay closer attention. The photos showed plainly dressed farmers carrying buckets and basins, all rushing anxiously toward the riverbank. In the distance on the sandbar lay a huge mat woven from corn stalks and sorghum stems, spread beneath something massive.

Villagers were dousing the mat with water from their buckets and basins. The caption below the photo stunned me:

"July 1934, a 50-meter-long suspected dragon stranded on the Liao River's estuary. Locals spent three days and nights pouring water over it to help the dragon return to the sea."

A dragon—a creature of myth and legend. We've all heard of them, but who's ever seen one? Yet whether it's the Classic of Mountains and Seas or ancient Chinese records, dragons are mentioned as if they truly existed. Just like the Primordial Celestial Lord, Night Wanderers, the underworld, or vengeful spirits—things I wouldn't have believed myself if I weren't a Taoist. Now I see them as higher beings living in a different dimension.

But I couldn't say that to Xing Zhan. If he believed what I'd revealed in the interrogation room was true, my fate would be endless imprisonment or a lifetime as a lab rat.

Yet what about the Nine Dragons Gate—was it connected to these dragons? A nagging doubt stirred in my mind. What exactly did my grandmaster mean when he referred to the Nine Dragons? Were they dragon veins or actual dragons?

Scattered around were maps of China from different eras and piles of documents about various Chinese mysteries. Among them, I noticed a folder labeled "Confidential: Double Fish Jade Pendant Experiment Report" resting near Xing Zhan's desk.

I picked it up. The first page showed my grandfather standing with a group of uniformed men in a photo I guessed dated to the mid-1970s.

"Now you know why we're looking for you," Xing Zhan said, putting down his work.

"What's going on? Why is my grandfather here?" I stammered, memories of the man who'd scraped together my tuition—who'd once activated a feng shui spirit point to pay my school fees—flashing through my mind. Back then, we were so poor we could barely afford food; how could he have been involved with the military?

Xing Zhan took the folder back from my hands and pointed to a blurry figure in the photo: "In 1970, they were ordered into Lop Nur, the land of death. Only two men came back—your grandfather was one of them, and the other…" He tapped a short man on the left, "was Yuan Beitang."

I stood frozen—so that's how my grandfather knew Yuan Beitang!

Then Xing Zhan began recounting the past: Between 1957–1962, an ancient city ruin was discovered in Lop Nur, sparking a frenzy among antique dealers and young adventurers hoping to strike it rich overnight. But everyone who went either died or went insane—none returned unharmed.

Those who went mad acted possessed, deliriously hyperactive until they literally collapsed and died from exhaustion. Autopsies found unknown toxins in their bodies and plant remnants in their stomachs that scientists had never seen before.

Suspecting they had eaten something they shouldn't, the government formed a research team led by a military special task unit. Members included physicists, botanists, and folk scholars—Taoists, monks, yin-yang masters—to investigate.

Historical records show the famous Peng Jiamu led the team, but they soon disappeared, their radio communications lost, the entire group vanishing without a trace. A rescue team later found the Double Fish Jade Pendant at an abandoned facility they'd established.

As for what really happened to Peng Jiamu, stories varied wildly. Xing Zhan sighed and said quietly,

"That's just what was told to the public. You're now officially recorded in the state's files, so you might as well know the truth."

"What do you mean 'recorded'? What really happened?" I demanded, a surge of fear for my grandfather welling up.

"You're now part of my Special Task Office—you've been drafted," Xing Zhan said flatly, leaving no room for argument. Then he dropped a bombshell:

"Peng Jiamu wasn't missing. We actually found him—but there were two identical Peng Jiamus. They moved, spoke, and remembered exactly the same things, but standing side by side, they couldn't see each other. This is documented in classified reports—it really happened."

I sucked in a cold breath. It was eerily like the time the Primordial Celestial Lord reversed time for me, duplicating me in the past—except then, I'd possessed another's body.

Thinking carefully, I realized the Double Fish Jade Pendant only copies, it doesn't reverse time. But my grandmaster had forcibly reversed two hours of time with his power—a feat beyond belief.

Before I could recover from my shock, Xing Zhan continued:

"In the 50s and 60s, we found many duplicates of people in Lop Nur. Some explorers even reported a floating ancient city in the sky. While scientists argued it was a mirage, the mysteries of Lop Nur ran too deep."

He pointed to a massive black-and-white photo of several scientists from the Chinese Academy of Sciences—among them was Qian Xuesen himself.

"Our nuclear tests were detonated at the site of the Sky Dome Ancient City, destroying countless duplicates. Detailed records are scarce—most were lost during the Cultural Revolution's campaign against 'old customs.' In the 70s, your grandfather and Yuan Beitang joined a second exploration team. They found a map referencing Jilin. Both men described their colleagues' deaths as either food poisoning or venomous bites—but no one could confirm."

Then Xing Zhan looked me dead in the eye:

"Not long after, both your grandfather and Yuan Beitang disappeared. We only recently traced your grandfather through a phone call. He agreed to help us pursue these ruins—but demanded a payment of 1 million yuan, claiming it was to help you marry."

I stood dumbfounded. My grandfather had risked his life for me again. With real estate in Shenyang skyrocketing, marriage and raising a family really did require a fortune—but I never imagined my future would cost my grandfather his life.

What's more, as a Taoist sworn to avoid worldly entanglements, his sacrifice felt unbearably unfair.

Professor He patted my shoulder:

"Young man, you're the grandson of Li Xiaozhang and the disciple of Wang Yi—both extraordinary men. Don't tarnish their legacies."

I took a deep breath. If what they said was true, my grandfather was in grave danger. I couldn't stop trembling as I said:

"I want to see the map."

"Alright." Xing Zhan laid out the documents he'd been studying, spreading them across the table. He circled a spot in the forests of Changbai Mountain with a red pen:

"This is the target location. The decoded texts suggest an ancient tomb or city is hidden here. Do you see anything unusual?"

I scrutinized the satellite imagery for a long time. Feng shui requires being on site to see the spirit, not just the form—satellites reveal terrain but not the vital energy. Still, I noticed something odd.

Changbai Mountain is the birthplace of the Manchu dragon veins, and the source of the Songhua, Tumen, and Yalu rivers—three great rivers winding like dragons through Northeast China. The spot Xing Zhan had marked seemed right at the dragon's mouth, the place where the dragon emerges from its nest.

I said:

"From the satellite view, this looks like a dragon's mouth, but I need to visit the site to confirm. Dragons ride the wind; where a dragon emerges, the wind must stir. If it's an ancient tomb, it wouldn't be built here—but if it's a lost city, that's another matter."

Seeing Xing Zhan's knowing smile, I added sternly:

"Even if my grandfather is missing, I believe he'd never betray our country. I will find him."

"Good—that's exactly why we wanted you." Xing Zhan smiled and added:

"A while ago, I met Yuan Beitang himself. He recommended you. Looks like he didn't exaggerate."

I sighed in resignation. Yuan Beitang was like an immortal among men, but careful to a fault. Clearly, faced with this dangerous hot potato, he'd tossed it straight to me—and probably talked me up endlessly to Xing Zhan.

"When do we leave?" I asked.

"Soon," Xing Zhan hesitated, "but not just you. There will be other folk scholars and scientists from the Chinese Academy of Sciences. I expect everyone will arrive by next week."

I shook my head immediately. If it were just others in my field, I might tolerate it—but the thought of traveling with a bunch of intellectual elites made me uneasy. With only two years left to live, every second is precious.