Being an emperor is not something he can do, so he can only rely on his connections.

The case of the Chang brothers' disappearance was thus shelved until a few days later.

……

afternoon.

There was a gentle knock on the study door. Qian Ming stepped in, carrying an inconspicuous cloth package, his expression somewhat strange. "Young Master," he said in a low voice, "the postman just delivered it, specifying that you should open it yourself."

Zhang Jingwei looked up from a pile of tax documents and rubbed his temples: "Who sent this?"

“I don’t know.” Qian Ming placed the package on the desk. “Even the postmaster couldn’t say where it came from, and the sender’s name… is blank.”

"Empty?" Zhang Jingwei's brows furrowed immediately, his voice filled with his usual irritation. "What is the postmaster good for! How could something of such dubious origin be delivered to the county government's inner quarters?"

Though he cursed, his hand deftly tore open the package's straps. Inside was a brocade box about a foot square, and a name card carefully sealed with crimson wax. He picked up the name card first, running his fingertip over the unfamiliar emblem on the wax seal, his suspicions deepening. Setting the name card down, he opened the brocade box—and on a deep blue velvet cushion lay a strange object, the size of a pigeon's egg, dark red like congealed blood, yet subtly shimmering with golden light as it moved.

His breath hitched, and his pupils contracted slightly: "This is... Qilin blood?"

Upon hearing this, Qian Ming's expression changed. He took a half-step closer, lowering his voice to almost a whisper: "Could it be the 'philosophy of mind'..."

Zhang Jingwei raised his hand, signaling him to be quiet. Just then, soft, light footsteps came from the corridor outside the door, along with the careful support and whispers of a maid. Zhang Jingwei quickly closed the brocade box, casually covering it with an official document, his expression changing.

The door opened, and Douya, supporting her back, slowly walked in. She was clearly pregnant, wearing a loose, light purple dress, and looked quite well, though her eyes held the languid gentleness typical of pregnancy. "Master," she called softly, her gaze shifting between Zhang Jingwei and Qian Ming.

"Why did you come out?" Zhang Jingwei got up to greet him, his tone softening unconsciously. "Didn't the doctor tell you to rest in bed more?"

Douya smiled faintly, her hand unconsciously touching her bulging belly: "The doctor also said that after the pregnancy stabilizes, I need to move around a bit. This little guy is very restless. If I always lie down, he gets restless and kicks and punches."

Zhang Jingwei reached out and carefully placed his palm on her belly, feeling the faint fetal movements. He deliberately put on a stern face and said, "Well, you're so naughty in your mother's belly. When you come out, I'll teach you a lesson!"

Bean Sprout chuckled, her eyes sparkling: "Why are you still arguing with an unborn child?"

After exchanging a few jokes, Zhang Jingwei helped her sit down in a chair and asked casually, "These past few days, has Madam... come to see you often?"

Bean Sprout's smile faded slightly, and she sighed softly, "Ling'er often comes to keep me company, chat with me to relieve my boredom, and bring me some nourishing things. But... how did you two end up like this? The moment I mention you, her face immediately turns cold, and she refuses to say another word. You are a man, and moreover, a husband. How do you break this deadlock? Do I, the one who is not yet married, have to teach you?" Her tone carried a hint of reproach, but more so, helplessness.

Zhang Jingwei's eyes darkened, and he changed the subject, asking instead, "How is her illness... these days?"

Bean Sprout shook her head, a worried look on her face: "It's still the same. My period this month... hasn't come again. I'm always feeling unwell, and to make matters worse, that Pharmacist Sun is gone and hasn't returned. We'll have to wait for her to come back to examine me."

Upon hearing this, Zhang Jingwei frowned even more. He turned to Qian Ming, who was standing to the side, and instructed him: "Qian Ming, take the contents of this brocade box to Miss Jiu'er immediately and ask her to carefully examine it to determine its composition and effects, and report back as soon as possible."

"Yes, young master." Qian Ming understood, stepped forward, neatly rewrapped the brocade box, bowed, and withdrew.

After Qian Ming left, Zhang Jingwei breathed a sigh of relief and said gently to Douya, "Forget it, let's not think about those worries for now. The weather is very nice today, shall I accompany you for a walk? Getting some sunshine will be good for you and the baby."

Bean Sprout's eyes lit up, revealing a happy expression: "Great! I've been cooped up indoors for days and just wanted some fresh air. With the wedding date approaching, it's time to buy some festive decorations."

“Exactly.” Zhang Jingwei nodded and helped her up. “By the way, let’s also find a reliable fortune teller on the street to calculate an auspicious date for our wedding. That old man Gong in the wedding room is always drunk; let’s not let him miss the appointed time.”

Douya smiled and agreed. The two then left the back of the county government office and slowly blended into the bustling afternoon streets of Gaoyang City.

There were several fortune-telling stalls in Gaoyang City, but as Zhang Jingwei had expected, most of them were just observing people's expressions and choosing auspicious words. The dates they calculated were all very similar, nothing more than "auspicious days, suitable for all activities." Zhang Jingwei didn't care much, just taking it as following a routine.

After purchasing some red silk, paper-cuts, and other items, the two strolled back along the street. Reaching a relatively quiet street corner, they found a small fortune-telling stall surrounded by a large crowd, their voices buzzing with discussion and exclamations of surprise.

"Amazing! Absolutely amazing! Could this be a living deity descended to earth?"

"Who says otherwise! I predicted yesterday that the cook's wife would give birth to a son, and she gave birth this morning, a boy! The timing was perfect!"

"And another thing, the precious raccoon dog that the daughter of the wealthy Li family on East Street lost, no matter how much reward they offered, they couldn't find it. The old man just told her to go home and wait, and lo and behold, that raccoon dog ran back home by itself that very night!"

"Even the fortune-telling is accurate! I took the imperial examination for five years, and the old master predicted the character '魁' (kui), and pointed me to burn incense at the Confucian Temple. Sure enough, I was admitted to the prefectural school and passed the county-level examination! What a kindness..."

Zhang Jingwei had already walked past when he heard the word "xiucai" (a scholar who passed the county-level imperial examination). He paused, turned around, pushed through the crowd, and walked up to the scholar who was spitting as he spoke. He said in a deep voice, "You were able to pass the county-level imperial examination because Prefect Liu, out of compassion for the lack of education in Yunzhou, specially filled two places for students. This is a favor from the imperial court and a virtuous act by the prefect. What does this have to do with charlatans?"

The scholar was speaking with great enthusiasm when he was interrupted. He looked displeased, turned around, and was immediately startled. He hurriedly bowed and said, "This student did not know that Your Excellency was here. I spoke nonsense. Please forgive me, Your Excellency!"

When the onlookers saw that it was the county magistrate, they all fell silent, made way for him, and peered out curiously.

Zhang Jingwei ignored the scholar and turned his gaze to the divination stall behind it. Behind the stall sat an old man with white hair and beard, yet a ruddy complexion. His eyes were half-open, seemingly half-awake. He wore a faded blue Taoist robe, exuding an air of otherworldly refinement. The stall contained only a piece of coarse cloth inscribed with the four characters "Iron-Mouthed Prediction," an inkstone, and a worn-out brush—nothing else.

“Sir,” Zhang Jingwei stepped forward, his tone calm yet carrying an official air, “Judging from your appearance, you are not from this county?”

The fortune teller raised his eyelids, his eyes clear and bright. He showed none of the fear or obsequiousness that a common江湖人 (jianghu person, a person of the martial arts world) would show when meeting an official. Instead, he said calmly, "Fortune telling and physiognomy are nothing more than a few minor tricks that follow the way of Heaven. I travel around and settle down wherever fate brings me. I only arrived in Gaoyang the other day. Does Your Excellency intend to inquire about my travel permit or collect market taxes? As far as I know, there are no tax categories for divination and physiognomy in the laws of the Celestial Empire."

“It’s not about taxes.” Zhang Jingwei waved his hand and gently pulled Douya, who was slightly embarrassed and hiding behind him, forward half a step. “I’ve heard that you are a master of divination. Today, I’ve come specifically to ask for an auspicious day for a happy occasion.” He deliberately emphasized “happy occasion”, and many eyes fell on Douya’s slightly protruding belly. Douya’s cheeks flushed and she lowered her head.

The fortune teller's gaze swept over Douya's face, then lingered on Zhang Jingwei's face for a moment, before slowly saying, "Sir, didn't you just call me a 'charlatan' and talk about 'strange powers and supernatural phenomena'?"

Zhang Jingwei remained unfazed: "I do not believe in falsehoods. However, the sages also said, 'Respect the spirits and gods, but keep them at a distance,' and 'The course of Heaven is constant.' This 'constancy' is reason, is the Way. Seeking a day that aligns with the seasons is also following reason, what does it have to do with superstition?"

"Oh?" The fortune teller glanced at him meaningfully, then suddenly stretched out his withered fingers and drew a few lines on the rough cloth. He lowered his voice, but it clearly reached Zhang Jingwei's ears. "I'm afraid what you're looking for, sir, is more than just an auspicious day. What you're really looking for... is 'heaven and earth, but not in the human world.'"

Zhang Jingwei's heart skipped a beat! These words seemed to have a hidden meaning, yet they were vague and elusive. He remained outwardly calm, but his brows furrowed: "Old sir, you must have misunderstood. I have come today only to choose a date for the wedding, not to search for anyone or anything."

The fortune teller seemed not to hear his denial, slowly shaking his head and looking past Zhang Jingwei towards the sky in the direction of the county government office. He murmured, "Auspicious day... With a good man in your heart and a child in your arms, every day is an auspicious day. Why should you be so fixated on a mere nominal time?" His words seemed to be addressed to Zhang Jingwei, to Douya, and even more like a fleeting prophecy.

Zhang Jingwei stared at him intently for a long while, then suddenly smiled, seemingly much more relaxed: "Hmm... that makes sense." He turned to Jia Dayong, who was following behind him, and said, "Dayong, present the old gentleman with the divination fee."

Jia Dayong stepped forward and took out his money bag.

"No need." The fortune teller waved his sleeve and closed his eyes again. "I have a rule when I tell fortunes: if what I say does not come true or fails to resolve your doubts, I will not charge you a penny. You can interpret what I said today yourself. I cannot accept this money."

Zhang Jingwei gave the old man, who seemed to be in a meditative state, a deep look, and said nothing more. He simply cupped his hands in greeting and said, "In that case, thank you for your advice, sir." With that, he carefully helped the thoughtful Douya and turned to leave.

The crowd gradually dispersed as the magistrate left. The white-haired fortune teller remained seated behind his stall, motionless, with only the four characters "Iron-Faced Predictions" on his stall cloth standing out prominently in the slanting sunlight.