Chapter Fourteen: The Mysterious Fortune-Telling Old Man

In the morning, the land of Huaxia radiated a rare tranquility. Birds chirped their good mornings to passing pedestrians, while the street-cleaning trucks played “Happy Birthday,” rousing one sleepy soul after another. The aroma of breakfast wafted from roadside vendors, and everything bore witness to the beginning of a new day.

At this moment, Qin Mengxue sat dazed on her wide bed, hair tousled, her face a mixture of confusion and disbelief. She had just woken from the most restful sleep she’d had in ages—astonishing, given she was in such a strange environment. What’s more, she seemed to have dreamed an endless dream.

In her dream, she was being chased. She ran frantically, and just as she was about to be caught, a figure bathed in golden light embraced her. That embrace was impossibly warm, filling her with happiness and a sense of absolute security. Like a god descended to earth, the golden figure drove off her pursuers. Before she could thank her savior, however, he vanished.

The dream shifted. Suddenly, she saw the fiancé she’d sketched during the day, though her dream rendered him even uglier and more grotesque. Most infuriating of all, in the dream, this wretched fiancé clung to a pigtail-wearing little girl and kissed her, leering at Qin Mengxue and asking, “Xiaoxue, don’t you think I’m handsome?”

Just as Qin Mengxue was about to explode in anger, the golden man appeared again and punched her cheap fiancé sky-high. Then—she woke with a start from the dream.

What a bizarre dream! She raked her fingers through her disheveled hair, trying to clear the fog of oversleeping. Grabbing her phone from the bedside table, she glanced at the screen—and cried out in alarm. It was already half past seven the next morning. She had slept nearly seventeen hours straight!

She’d slept so long in her so-called fiancé’s house, and dreamt such strange things. Peering at her phone again, she noticed a message from a number saved under the name “Scoundrel,” sent a few hours before: “Xiaoxue, don’t miss me! I’ll be back soon!”

“Idiot, who would miss you?” Qin Mengxue tossed her phone aside, not bothering to reply. After all, in her dream he was still kissing a little girl. Rubbing her temples to shake off the lethargy, she got out of bed to freshen up.

In the bathroom, she realized she had no makeup at all! After her father had locked her out, it seemed he’d left everything else to fate. Her fiancé’s house, uninhabited for years, had nothing—no clothes, no toiletries, and she was still wearing yesterday’s work attire!

If she showed up at the office like this, the icy, untouchable image she’d carefully cultivated would be utterly destroyed. Gazing at her own messy reflection, Qin Mengxue sighed. She’d have to take another day off and purchase some basic necessities.

Leaving the bathroom, she dialed her secretary, Yu Xiaoxiao. The call was quickly answered.

“Hello, President Qin?” came the cautious voice on the other end.

“Yes, it’s me, Xiaoxiao. I need to take care of some things today, so I won’t be coming in. Please keep an eye on the office, and consult with President Gan and President Su if anything comes up.”

“Understood, President Qin. Don’t worry, I’ll handle everything,” Yu Xiaoxiao replied respectfully, though her heart was filled with questions.

Since becoming secretary, she couldn’t recall Qin Mengxue ever taking a day off. Rain or shine, she was always the first to appear at the company. Yet two absences in as many days—something must have happened. But such questions could only run wild in her mind; she’d never dare ask President Qin directly, not in a hundred lifetimes.

Qin Mengxue didn’t lounge around after the call. She washed her face with cold water, did her best to smooth her hair, and donned the black mask she always kept in her bag before heading out.

Driving her Volkswagen Phaeton through the city, Qin Mengxue’s heart was heavy. Her father was truly ruthless—was he even really her father? With a sigh, she continued toward Taiyuan Street, the busiest commercial district in Beiyang City.

Taiyuan Street was famous for its luxury stores and sprawling malls—a shopping paradise where all her favorite high-end brands and cosmetics could be found.

But prosperity had its price. Approaching Taiyuan Street, Qin Mengxue found herself trapped in a sea of cars. Horns blared, voices shouted, and the street was alive with the chaos of gridlock, yet the traffic refused to budge.

The rising standard of living in Huaxia meant more people bought cars for convenience, but it also brought more accidents and longer traffic jams. Whether this was progress or trouble was anyone’s guess.

On any other day, Qin Mengxue would be anxious. But today, since she’d taken leave, she simply played soft piano music through her car’s speakers. The pianist was Weiss Riley—a genius whose music soothed her high-strung nerves.

Listening to the gentle notes, her heart gradually calmed, and she began to savor this rare peaceful morning. Usually, she’d already be at her desk, face taut, immersed in work. Perhaps granting herself a day off now and then was not such a bad idea.

Her reverie was interrupted by a tapping on her window. Despite the jam, an elderly man stood beside her car, rapping gently with a gnarled hand.

The old man was skinny but not frail, deep wrinkles creasing his neck, his long white beard immaculate, and a pair of oversized black sunglasses obscuring his eyes. His hand, rough as ancient pine bark, was thick with calluses.

Qin Mengxue raised an eyebrow, wary. Was he here to cause trouble? Still, she lowered her window out of courtesy. “Grandpa, can I help you?”

The old man broke into a broad smile, his teeth still white despite his years. Stroking his beard, he said, “Ha ha, little lady, I see our fates are intertwined today. Let me tell your fortune.”

Qin Mengxue’s brow furrowed. Another charlatan? Raised with a solid dose of socialist rationalism, she had no patience for mystics—just frauds and liars in her eyes.

She declined politely, “Sorry, sir, I don’t believe in fate. I think it’s better to walk your own path.”

The old man wasn’t offended. He chuckled with an air of inscrutable wisdom. “But if I’m not mistaken, something has already happened that’s beyond your control.”

Qin Mengxue’s heart skipped a beat—her thoughts flying to her arranged marriage. Still, she kept her face impassive.

“Heh, seems I was right,” the old man said. “Listen to me: Cherish what you have when you have it. Don’t wait until it’s gone to regret it. Our meeting today is fated—I won’t charge you a coin.”

Qin Mengxue pondered his words, more perplexed than before. What did he mean by cherish and regret? What had she gained, and what might she lose?

Seeing her bewilderment, the old man added gently, “If fate allows, we’ll meet again. Then I’ll tell your fortune once more.”

With that, he laughed heartily and walked off, still singing, “The night is long, the dream is short, waiting for frost’s dawn. No one at the mirror to fix my hair…” Soon, he vanished from sight, as if he’d never been there at all.

Qin Mengxue watched him go, her mind churning with questions she could not answer. “Forget it. Maybe he’s just a mad old man. Time to shop.”

Afterward, she arrived at the mall and indulged herself—clothes, cosmetics, bags, everything she needed. By the time she’d loaded her purchases into the car, it was already afternoon. Though tired from a day of shopping, she felt elated. Retail therapy was real, after all.

Checking her phone, she saw no missed calls; even her secretary hadn’t contacted her. Evidently, all was well at the company.

Just then, her stomach growled. She couldn’t help but laugh bitterly. She’d shopped all day without a proper meal—the only things she’d eaten were yesterday’s coffee and this morning’s soy milk.

She considered buying groceries. Then she snorted inwardly—what home? This wasn’t her home. She was only buying food because she was hungry, not for any sentimental reason.

Time slipped by, and evening arrived. Night spread its quiet embrace over Beiyang City. Despite a busy day, the city showed no sign of fatigue—streets shimmered with neon, traffic flowed endlessly, and people hurried along: some eager to return home, some entwined with lovers, who knew if for love or for something more fleeting.

Xue Tian’ai walked quietly through the city, taking in its familiar yet unfamiliar face. Ten years—it had been a decade since he left. Now, finally, he was home again, back in Huaxia, back where he was born.

Was this what it meant to return home? Xue Tian’ai smiled wryly. What was home? It was supposed to be a warm harbor, a place where those you love and those who love you wait for you. But did he really have that? Was it the villa at Hongyang No.3, or the beautiful fiancée chosen by his family? Neither truly felt like home.

He’d told no one of his return. After bidding a quiet farewell to Shigong Yanyue, Owl, Weiss, and the rest of the Butterfly Organization, he booked an ordinary flight and slipped back into Huaxia.

Ah, well. Perhaps he and Qin Mengxue would get along unexpectedly well—after all, she was his fiancée. He slapped his cheeks lightly, shaking off his solemn air for a rakish grin. In that moment, Xue Tian’ai looked every bit the young scoundrel.

“Young man, why do you carry such heavy thoughts at your age?” A sudden voice startled him from behind. The swagger vanished from Xue Tian’ai’s face, replaced by cold vigilance as he spun around.

The speaker was an old man. If Qin Mengxue were here, she would have recognized him instantly—the very same who’d tapped on her car window that morning.

“Who are you?” Xue Tian’ai eyed the old man warily, a chill of killing intent radiating from him. This old man felt dangerous. If he could approach so silently, he could just as easily strike unseen.

Years of dancing on the edge of death had honed Xue Tian’ai’s instincts to razor sharpness. This man was simply too uncanny.

“No need to be nervous, young man,” the old man said mildly. “I’m just a fortune-teller, not one for your generation’s violence.” He studied Xue Tian’ai carefully and suddenly exclaimed, “Strange! Very strange indeed!”

“I don’t believe in fortune-telling. I control my own fate—mine and others’,” Xue Tian’ai replied coldly.

“Remarkable! Your destiny overlaps so closely with a young lady I met this morning. Even your words are nearly identical. Could it be…” The old man ignored his protest, muttering to himself.

“Hey, old man! Did you hear me? If you’re going to fight, fight. Otherwise, stop your nonsense!”

“I’m not here to fight,” the old man said, amused. “I simply thought we were destined to meet. Let me give you a reading—it’s free! Encountering two such kindred spirits in one day is a rare joy for me.”

“I said I don’t believe in it. What do you really want?” Xue Tian’ai’s patience was fraying; he felt as if the old man was toying with him.

The old man’s expression turned serious. “Let me give you some advice: Your mask may fool other people’s eyes, but it can’t deceive a true heart. Cherish this hard-won peace, and protect it. Only you have the power to do so.” Then, with a mischievous glint, he added, “Oh, and who knows—you might have a romantic encounter tonight. Be sure to take precautions!”

With a hearty laugh, the old man melted into the darkness.

Like Qin Mengxue, Xue Tian’ai was left bewildered. “What a strange old man!” But seeing the man walk away without further incident, he relaxed, his tension ebbing.

The old man’s words about a romantic encounter and “taking precautions” made him scoff. He had just returned to Huaxia—how could something like that possibly happen?

Dismissively, Xue Tian’ai continued down the street. After a while, growing weary, he stopped and glanced to his right. There, a gaudy, colorful sign caught his eye.

“Noble House Song and Dance”—a bar.

He felt a sudden thirst. Why not, he thought, and headed for the entrance.

Just as he was about to step inside, a disheveled figure stumbled out in a panic—and, for reasons unknown, fell headlong into Xue Tian’ai’s arms.