Chapter Twenty-One: The Divination

"Tell me, should I try some divination? See which gambler I can squeeze the most silver out of?"

[I have no objection. Should we use the playing cards?]

"No, too much trouble. I have a simpler way." Having said that, he took out the music box that Apollonia inhabited and turned the handle.

Mechanical gears, cycloidal wheels, and oscillators—the brass movement operated within its brass casing, the simple and harmonious motion of the mechanical parts playing Beethoven’s "Ode to Joy."

"Ode to Joy" is in a stately 2/4 time. His footsteps moved in rhythm with it.

The music box played on by itself in his pocket. It wasn't exactly quiet, but the entire casino was filled with the roar of machines—noisier than a factory—so no one paid any attention to the sound coming from his pocket.

As the music box unwound, Shang Luo wandered aimlessly between the machines—finally, the music stopped, and he came to a halt.

[What is the principle behind this?]

"It's something the old Emperor Jiajing used to use; I heard it works quite well. Back in his meditation chamber, he would strike a chime and then pace around the Bagua. When the chime stopped, wherever he ended up was his answer. You should be more reliable than a chime, right?"

[Perhaps.]

"Huh? Is this method wrong?"

[Of course it is. That card box is a magician's prop; its inherent function is divination. When I inhabit those cards, I exhaust the 'possibilities' of that deck to predict the future. But a music box isn't meant for divination; putting me inside it just plays nice music. Perhaps you should just go with the flow? After all, you've already had your fortune told; perhaps this is all part of the prophecy.]

"Let's just leave it at that. Being too calculating isn't necessarily useful. Let's find a sucker and test it out."

Shang Luo found a seat near where he had stopped. There weren't many people around, save for a middle-aged bald man intently staring at a pinball machine.

The bald man wore flip-flops, sat with one leg crossed over the other, and held a large box of steel balls. He fed the balls into the machine one by one, and they were launched by a spring, one after another.

As long as one's luck was good, a single ball could turn into a mountain of them. From the side, one could only see the man's tattoos; it was impossible to tell from his expression whether he was winning or losing.

Shang Luo felt that 'fate' had guided him to this man, so he sat down beside him.

"Young man, you look new around here. In Vegas for fun?" The bald man spoke. His voice sounded like he was in his forties, and his accent was surprisingly standard—a crisp Jinling Mandarin.

"Yes, just here to play," Shang Luo replied.

The bald man flicked his cigarette ash. "Oh... I saw you acting all mystical the moment you walked in. Doesn't look like you're here to play." He didn't care that the ash fell onto the hard-to-clean carpet, as if it weren't public property, but a rug in his own home.

"Uh... can you tell what I'm doing?" Shang Luo felt a bit guilty.

"If I'm not mistaken, you were just performing divination, right? You're from the Capital, aren't you?"

"Hm?" Shang Luo paused. Could this guy be a secret agent of the Imperial Guard? "You can actually tell?"

"Heh, you're imitating the divination style of Emperor Shizong, the Jiajing Emperor. I’ve heard that when he was refining alchemy, he would strike a chime to cast a hexagram, stopping wherever he ended up. It’s not exactly a state secret, but few outside the Capital would know it."

"How do you know that?" Shang Luo tightened his grip on his money pouch, ready to bolt if things went south.

"Well... I studied in Nanjing a long time ago and learned about such things. But that’s ancient history. By the way, I advise you not to play on this machine; it’s flawed. I’ve been playing this one for half a month straight, and it hasn't hit the jackpot once. Every time, I barely break even."

He was definitely a gambler—a gambler who hadn't made any money, it seemed.

There was no emotion in the man's voice; he seemed numb. Yet, his body continued to honestly feed the steel balls into the machine, showing that he hadn't given up on his luck.

This kind of gambler—who had lost hope but hadn't yet reached despair—was the perfect target for Shang Luo.

"Sir... since you know I can perform divination, how about I take a look at your fortune?" Shang Luo prepared phrases like "a dark shadow over your brow."

"Sure." The bald man turned his head—under the dim lights, a large, cyan face appeared before him. The entire face was covered in eerie, mysterious blue patterns, with only two stark white eyes showing.

"What do you think of my fortune?" he said self-deprecatingly. "Or can you see through these tattoos to tell if my brow is darkened? Hm... though my luck has indeed been quite poor."

He turned back. "You’re here to make some money, right? I reckon you know some Taoist arts. How about this: you cast a hexagram for me and see how I can hit the jackpot. I’m just doing this for fun. Since I’m throwing money into the machine anyway, I might as well throw it at you."

"Ahem!" Finally finding his cue, Shang Luo coughed twice. "Yin and Yang, the Five Elements; ten divinations, nine are true. If it’s not accurate, no charge. I’ll calculate it for you first, and if I’m right, you pay me."

"Hm... interesting." The bald man thought for a moment and agreed. His life was just playing pinball anyway; chatting with Shang Luo would help pass the time.

"Alright, this humble Daoist will cast a hexagram for you."

He asked Apollonia, "Hey, can you get this right?"

[Providing a hexagram is easy, but interpreting it is what matters. You interpret it yourself; that’s all I can do for you. Go on, draw a card.]

Shang Luo opened the box. He didn't shuffle; he just pulled one out at random.

The upper trigram had two solid lines and one broken line, representing Xun (Wind) ☴. The lower trigram had three broken lines, representing Kun (Earth) ☷. Together, they formed the 20th hexagram of the I Ching, "Guan" (Contemplation).

"Here, this is your primary hexagram." Shang Luo showed him the card.

"That's it? You just pull one at random and that's the hexagram? Look, kid, even the fortune-telling stalls aren't this simple!"

"Tsk, you don't understand. A true master of divination often uses the simplest methods. Look at the old Emperor Jiajing—that Longevity Emperor, the True Lord of Flying Origins, the Emperor of Loyalty and Filial Piety—he cast hexagrams on a whim. Divination is about fate; if the fate is there, any method will do."

"Well, true enough. So, what does this hexagram say?"

"Don't be impatient, I'm interpreting it for you."

Shang Luo feigned deep thought while asking Apollonia for the meaning in his heart.

[Sigh... you should really read up on the hexagram books next time. The judgment for the 'Contemplation' hexagram is: 'The ablution has been made, but not yet the offering; with sincerity and dignity.' It means that once you have witnessed the grand ceremony of pouring out the libation, there is no need to watch the subsequent ritual of the offering. Because you have already perceived where the 'Way' lies, there is no need to be constrained by form.]

"Contemplation: The ablution has been made, but not yet the offering; with sincerity and dignity," Shang Luo chanted, nodding his head, faking expertise. "This means you should look through the phenomena to see the essence. You haven't been able to win money from the pinball machine because the problem isn't the machine—you need to change your perspective. Your problem lies in something more fundamental; don't get hung up on the surface."