Chapter 81: The Art of Geomancy

After the contest ended, Gu Xiaotian announced the rules for the next round. He gave each of the five winners—Ouyang Cuo, Teng Guoyuan, Lu Yong, Song Hui, and myself—a day to choose any spot within his villa and set up a gambling table. Each of us would act as the dealer with five thousand chips, and Gu Xiaotian would arrange for gamblers to participate. The judgment was simple: if a dealer lost all their chips, they would be eliminated; when time was up, the three dealers with the most chips would advance to the next round.

Gu Xiaotian brought in twenty-five gamblers, dividing them into five groups—each contestant received five gamblers. Yue Leiting had investigated them; he could name over a dozen with reputations in the underworld. These were professional gamblers, living off their skill, and were so adept that most casinos refused them entry. As for those he didn’t know, given Gu Xiaotian’s connections, they were certainly not ordinary; often, the less renowned, the more formidable their gambling techniques.

I understood well that this contest wasn’t about gambling skill—it was about feng shui.

The reason Gu Xiaotian gave us a day to pick our locations was to let us choose the best feng shui spot and arrange our own feng shui layout.

With five distinct feng shui setups in the same villa, they would inevitably interact, mutually generating and restraining one another. Thus, not only did we compete in our layout skills, but we were also tested on how we could maintain our advantage amid such intricate feng shui interplay.

Gu Xiaotian had deliberately chosen twenty-five professional gamblers to minimize the element of luck, making it easier to discern whose feng shui arrangement was most effective.

Yue Qianling, warm as spring, told me, “If you keep performing as you have, when the contest ends, there’ll be fireworks at Huashui Bay. I’ll take you to see them—as a reward.”

I replied with a wry smile, “How generous,” knowing she’d bet on me to win, and even dragged Xiao Lianshan into her scheme. Her money-mindedness made me both amused and exasperated.

Originally, I thought that with five feng shui setups together, mutual restraint was inevitable; the later one was arranged, the greater the advantage.

A day later, I recalled my words and nearly regretted them to the bone.

Gu Xiaotian, like Lan Qing, seemed to favor classical architecture, so his villa at Huashui Bay was built entirely in Ming and Qing style, with pavilions, towers, water features, and ponds—all present.

From the layout, it was clear Gu Xiaotian had consulted a feng shui master when building. The villa sat facing south, backed by a stable mountain, flanked by dragon and tiger guardians, with a wide open field before it, promising prosperity for future generations.

The villa was based on the Dragon Mountain configuration, using sand and water for fortune, combining both form and energy—a site of great blessing.

More importantly, the villa was precisely on the Azure Dragon’s prime position. The ponds and streams within, when counted together, totaled nine—the auspicious number in the River Luo system—suggesting the Azure Dragon frolicking in water.

This arrangement was an extremely rare and prosperous configuration in yang feng shui; however, its overwhelming power meant any additional feng shui setup would have diminished effect.

What surprised me further was the skill of Teng Guoyuan, Lu Yong, Song Hui, and Ouyang Cuo in feng shui. The most prosperous spots for wealth within Gu Xiaotian’s villa had already been taken by them.

I paced through the villa several times, stopping at a fountain near an artificial rock garden, and suddenly turned to Yue Qianling.

“You said there’ll be fireworks at Huashui Bay tomorrow?”

She snorted, her expression cold. “I told you to prepare early, but you wouldn’t listen. Now you’re left with whatever others didn’t want. Do you really think you can always turn the tide? Well, if you lose, you can just sit back and enjoy the fireworks.”

I smiled lightly, took a deep breath, and replied nonchalantly, “I won’t choose anymore. This place will do. If fortune favors me, so be it; if not, it’s fate. Let’s leave the outcome to destiny.”

The third contest officially began after dinner the following day. As it was a gambling event, the atmosphere was especially lively. Gu Xiaotian announced everyone could freely watch any of the five contestants’ games, but interference would result in immediate expulsion.

After a day of preparation and layout, each of the other four had set up unique gambling tables.

Song Hui chose the southeast corner of the courtyard—the villa’s most prosperous wealth spot. This surprised me somewhat; anyone who’d made it through two rounds was a master, but Song Hui’s ability to pinpoint the prime financial position proved his reputation in feng shui was well deserved.

Song Hui’s setup was simple: a gambling table with five chairs in front, flanked by two jade statues—one a lion playing with a child, the other a white tiger descending from the mountain.

Because his table was in the southeast corner, one had to cross an artificial wooden bridge to reach it. On each end of the bridge hung cheerful red paper decorations, each with a mouse holding the character for “fortune.”

Xiao Lianshan, who had felt the power of my feng shui before, was curious about Song Hui’s arrangement—he asked, “Brother, what’s the meaning behind Song Hui’s feng shui setup?”

I explained that Song Hui’s layout contained two configurations. The first was the Lion-Tiger arrangement, holding many hidden feng shui secrets. The Lion-Tiger setup carried intense energy, and the main entrance—the wooden bridge—was the most potent.

On the table, the lion and tiger faced the bridge; the five professional gamblers had to cross it, as if walking into the mouths of the beasts. In feng shui, the lion, king of beasts, attracts wealth; the tiger, fierce, guards the house and fortune. So, crossing the bridge meant the gamblers were “sheep entering the tiger’s den.”

The second configuration lay in the red paper on the bridge—“Fortune Mouse Hanging Money,” attracting wealth from all directions. The character for fortune and the bat are homophones; “bat mouse” means bat, and the use of red paper suggests a blood-sucking bat, not celebration. Hanging it at the bridge’s entrance symbolized a bat searching for food, draining the gamblers’ “blood”—in other words, their money.

Xiao Lianshan nodded in sudden understanding, amazed at the depth hidden in such simple objects.

“Of course, just arranging objects isn’t enough; the layout must harmonize with position and the five elements. Only then does feng shui truly work. But I won’t explain further—you wouldn’t understand anyway,” I said to Xiao Lianshan.

Lu Yong’s gambling table was set up in the villa’s backyard, distinctly unique—all objects were round: the table, chairs, everything. Above the table hung a deep red, luxuriously ornate crystal chandelier.

Beneath the table was a bright red carpet, lending an air of nobility.

At the center of the table stood a golden snake, coiled and proud, its tongue flicking out.

“Lu Yong’s feng shui skills aren’t quite on par with Song Hui’s, but this setup is still ingenious. Though the position isn’t as prosperous as Song Hui’s, it’s not necessarily inferior,” Gu Anqi whispered after examining Lu Yong’s arrangement.

I nodded in agreement. Though Lu Yong didn’t have the geographic advantage, his use of the secondary wealth spot was masterful—a rare feat.

“Brother, I feel dizzy,” Xiao Lianshan complained, rubbing his temples since arriving.

I chuckled calmly. “That’s precisely the power of Lu Yong’s feng shui. Notice how everything is round—the saying goes, ‘Without rules, there’s no square or round.’ Unlike Song Hui’s guiding bridge, Lu Yong’s setup leaves you unsure where to go; you wander in circles, lingering at the table. In feng shui, this increases both energy and wealth. In such a round environment, gamblers easily lose their sense of direction—hence your dizziness.”

“I do think the crystal chandelier is especially beautiful—the crystals strung together like raindrops. Maybe I’ll get one for my house,” Yue Qianling mused, her gaze fixed on the chandelier since entering.

“If I were you, I wouldn’t do that. Hanging that lamp at home would guarantee endless unrest.” I shook my head, smiling wryly. “The greatest subtlety in Lu Yong’s setup is that chandelier, made of white crystal spheres, hanging low. The table beneath is also round and white, like a jade plate, catching the falling crystals. You studied archaeology—remember Bai Juyi’s ‘Song of the Pipa’? ‘Large pearls, small pearls, falling onto a jade plate.’ The dealer is always the big winner.”

Gu Anqi nodded and added, “Qianling, if you count carefully, you’ll find exactly thirty-one crystals on that lamp. Though beautiful, in feng shui it’s called the ‘Bewitching Lamp.’ Coupled with the red carpet, it confuses gamblers’ spirits, making rational betting impossible.”

“Brother, what is Lu Yong’s feng shui setup called?”

“The white crystal symbolizes water; the red carpet, fire; gamblers at the table are caught in ‘deep water and raging fire.’ And the golden snake atop the table increases both aggression and wealth absorption. Therefore, Lu Yong’s setup is called ‘Flooded by Water, Attacked by Fire, Cleaved by the Golden Snake.’”