CHAPTER 73: CHAPTER 73: THE KNOCKING HEAD

Without the benefit of rest, Qin Guanglin had to concentrate on the task at hand, which naturally sped up the process of drying the hair—huffing and puffing, he had almost finished it.

For sure, no matter what you do, you need to focus.

"There, you should go to sleep early," He Fang said as she stood up and smoothed her hair, somewhat satisfied—it had turned out much better than yesterday.

"Mmm, I’m going to sleep now."

Qin Guanglin put away the hairdryer, gave her a quick kiss, then lay down on the bed and closed his eyes, "I’m sleeping now."

"Sleep then."

"I really am sleeping now," Qin Guanglin repeated.

"Go on and sleep already," He Fang, checking her phone for a photo, said they agreed to send one to He’s Daddy to show him what her boyfriend looked like.

Qin Guanglin lay with his eyes closed, motionless, pretending he was really going to sleep now, secretly hoping inside that He Fang would come over soon.

She thought he didn’t know, but he did know, and he also knew that she didn’t know he knew—Qin Guanglin secretly relished the thrill.

Finally, he had discovered her little secret—how contradictory her actions and words were.

Maybe because he had been truly tired during the day, Qin Guanglin fell asleep without realizing it, and when he next opened his eyes, it was already daylight. He suddenly sat up—Oh no!

He Fang was lying on her own bed, playing with her phone, and seemed a bit surprised when Qin Guanglin suddenly sat up, "What’s up? Did you have a nightmare?"

Qin Guanglin gave her a disgruntled look and mumbled, "Yeah, had a dream."

How did he just fall asleep like that? What a loss.

Did she come over at all?

She must have...

Annoyed, he lay back down, tossed and turned a couple of times, then suddenly turned his head and glanced around the pillow, quietly searching for something.

Ah, there it was...

He happily pinched a long hair strand from beside him— Aha, she really had sneaked over again.

"Get up and wash if you’re awake," He Fang urged him, not knowing what silly thing had him smirking.

"Alright, okay."

Qin Guanglin agreed and checked the time, only to realize it was already past nine o’clock.

After washing up and having breakfast together, they refilled their backpacks, then headed together toward the main peak of Zhongnan.

The main peak had a longer path than Cuihua Mountain, and even though they had rested the night, they still sweated a bit as they climbed.

The weekend was over, and there were fewer tourists on the mountain compared to when they climbed Cuihua Mountain the day before, but there were still some small travel groups lingering because of the main peak, resting occasionally as they climbed.

He Fang sat on a nearby rock, took a couple of sips of water, looked around, and pointing ahead, she told Qin Guanglin, "I’m going to use the restroom, wait here for me."

"Go ahead." Qin Guanglin nodded, took the water bottle from her hand to drink a sip, and stayed behind, looking around.

The entrance area of Zhongnan’s main peak was different from that of Cuihua Mountain—with various food stalls and a row of elderly men and women sitting on the ground in traditional attire.

"Young man, how about a fortune telling?" an old man in a white traditional coat nearby started a conversation. "Guiding the lost gentlemen, advising the trapped heroes; you can ask me anything, I will chat with you about it."

Qin Guanglin looked up, noticing the old man’s white hair and beard, dressed entirely in white—he indeed looked the part.

"I see you have a rosy complexion and ’love lines’ at the corner of your eyes, have you recently had a romantic incident?" the old man pressed on as Qin Guanglin stayed silent.

"My girlfriend just walked away, everyone here saw her," Qin Guanglin curled his lips.

I still think you look old and frail, and it must have been tough climbing up here, and you call this fortune-telling?

"Cough, cough." The old man coughed awkwardly, "Come on, try it out, we’re waiting anyway. I’ll read you a couple of lines, and if you think it’s reliable, we can talk seriously, how’s that?"

"Talking seriously means paying, right?" Qin Guanglin laughed, figuring they were waiting anyway, so he stood up from the rock and squatted in front of the old man’s stall to see what he would say, "Go ahead."

"Announce your birth time." The old man perked up, straightened his posture, and grabbed an almanac from the side, ready to start working.

Not afraid of questions, just afraid of people walking away, as long as he could recite a few lines, he was eighty percent sure he could make this young man stay and willingly pay.

Qin Guanglin hesitated for a moment, announced his birth date and month, and waited to see what this old man could conjure up.

"Let me see..." The old man scanned his finger over the almanac, mumbling something under his breath.

"You still need to check the book?" Qin Guanglin felt even more skeptical. Back in the day, Teacher He could predict swiftly without any aides, showcasing the difference.

"Of course I have to check, the stuff about ’meteor chasing the moon’ is only good for the blind," the old man didn’t even look up as he explained, "This way of checking is reliable. Don’t worry about how I check, what matters is how I interpret it and whether what I say rings true."

These amateurs always have too many complaints; all that matters is accuracy, not the method, "There, some even use cell phones to calculate it, it’s just a tool."

"Fine," Qin Guanglin didn’t care, glanced back toward the restroom where He Fang was still waiting in line, thinking how troublesome it was for women to use the bathroom, but understandably so.

"Cough." The old man finally finished checking, scribbled something on a piece of paper, cleared his throat, and began slowly, "Your ’eight characters’ are good."

"Nonsense!" Qin Guanglin felt this man was just a swindler, making a fuss just to say that—who didn’t know their own fortune was good?

Could someone with bad luck have met a girlfriend like Teacher He?

"I haven’t finished yet," the old man retorted displeasedly, "Your ’eight characters’ show that ’water and wood generate energy’, emphasizing purity and injuries as the core, prosperity leading to wealth, you’re meant for the arts, earning your keep with the pen."

Throw in some technical terms to dazzle the layman, followed by some real talk, this trick never fails.

"Hey, that’s somewhat interesting," Qin Guanglin raised his eyebrows at him, "Continue."

"These ’eight characters’ suggest you’re smart, did well in school from a young age, getting a bachelor’s degree with top honors was no problem, in ancient times you’d be a top scholar," the old man finished his flattering spiel, then lowered his voice to probe, "Also, is your father..."

This line of work values nailing three key aspects—historically, it was one’s parents, marriage, and children. Nail those and they extend their hand for money. Now, the focus shifted to young people and changed to parents, education, love life.

Regardless of the changes, the situation of one’s parents is a solid check, nothing taboo about it, just say it as it follows tradition, and no one usually gets angry over this, it’s simply the rule.

Qin Guanglin didn’t think it was a big deal, simply nodded in surprise, "Yes, he passed away early, you do have something there."

He paused, "Can you see where I’ve been injured?"

The old man looked at what he’d written down, confident, raised his head, "No, you’ve been completely intact, never had a major injury."

"That’s not right." Qin Guanglin chuckled, pulling up his trouser leg, "See this scar? I got it when I was a kid."

Teacher He was indeed more impressive.

The old man choked for a moment, looked at him as if he was an idiot, "I’m not an ’immortal,’ only big sicknesses and disasters that would put you in a hospital show up in the ’eight characters,’ this tiny scar as big as a fingernail, only a ghost could see it." He sneered, "Did you also want me to figure out how many times you hurt your hand with a pencil in elementary school? You’re just picking a fight."

"Uh..." Qin Guanglin was rebuked and somehow it made some sense, "Then can you see where I have moles on my body?"

"I’ve already said I’m not an ’immortal’," the old man got a bit agitated, "How could anyone guess that?"

"I’ve seen someone who can," thought of He Fang made Qin Guanglin esteem her even more highly.

"Who?!" The old man was sure he was just arguing for the sake of arguing, "Bring him here and show me; if he can guess when I’ve ever been cut by a kitchen knife, how many moles I have, I’d kneel down and bow to him! And I mean with big, loud bangs!"

"Forget it, forget it," Qin Guanglin didn’t want to argue with the elderly and stood up, "Let’s just drop it."

The old man grew even more irritated, "You find him, find him! I’ve lived most of my life and never seen such ’immortals.’"