Zhuque Street in Chang'an City stretched out in the morning light, its bluestone pavement gleaming from the grinding of passing carriages, like a silk ribbon covered in a thin layer of gold. As Su Jinli lifted the curtain of the sedan chair, the wind blew the bronze bells from the eaves. The tinkling sound, mixed with the sounds of a huqin from a distant tavern, transformed the morning light into shattered gold, scattering it across the street on the bamboo skewers of the candied haws stall. Nianli peeked out through the window, her pearly hairnet brushing against the carved window frame. Her little finger tapped the five-layered, sugar-coated hawthorns: "Mom! That bunch of hawthorns is bigger than my fist!"
Jiang Yan helped her smooth out her wind-blown hair. The sleeves of his moon-white gown were still stained with the unique scent of gardenias from Suzhou embroidery workshops. "What are you thinking about, Si Yan?"
In the corner of the carriage, Siyan was hunched over a small ebony table, his jujube wood abacus clacking loudly, his brow furrowed so tightly it could kill a mosquito. His nose, stained with ink from last night's grinding, trembled slightly as the beads rose and fell. "Calculating land prices in Chang'an." Without even looking up, his fingertips danced across the abacus. "In the middle section of Zhuque Street, you can buy three dou of rice per square meter. At the West Market, it's even more expensive, five dou and three liters. It's 23.5 cents more expensive than the salt warehouses along the Yangzhou Canal..."
"Okay, okay, my little accountant." Su Jinli smiled and scratched her son's nose, but suddenly her wrist was hurt by Nianli's pull.
"Mom! Look at that old man!" The little girl's bird-like voice pierced through the morning mist, and her little hand pointed to the old locust tree at the corner of the street.
Beneath a locust tree stood a fortune-telling stall covered in green cloth. Brass bells swung in the wind from the four corners. On the faded sign, the characters "Iron Mouth Divination" were sun-bleached, their edges fuzzy. The stall owner, a white-bearded old man, reclined in a jujube wood chair, fanning himself with a folding fan, humming an obscure tune through half-lidded eyes. Next to him stood a crooked wooden sign, inscribed in red paint: "Fortune-telling for marriage and wealth. No money if it doesn't work - ten times the compensation if it's wrong."
Siyan looked up suddenly, and the abacus slammed shut, startling the sparrows perched on the windowsill. He quickly slung the abacus around his waist, swaying the brocade sash holding the brocade purse his grandfather had given him beneath his brocade vest. "I'm going to calculate my fortune!"
"Si Yan!" Su Jinli tried to stop him, but her son had already rushed out like a cannonball. The purse was made by his grandfather from the finest Hangzhou brocade, with a golden toad embroidered on the front, holding the New Year's money he had saved since he arrived in Yangzhou. The heavy copper coins bulged the fabric so much that a tiny clinking sound could be heard as he walked.
"Young Master, please stay!" The fortune teller suddenly opened his eyes, a barely perceptible glint flashing in his cloudy pupils. "You have a full forehead, a round chin, and a faint golden light shimmering between your brows. Great wealth is about to come!"
Siyan straightened his small body seriously, the abacus beads on his lapel jingling with his movements. "Sir, please calculate for me. Can I make ten taels of silver this year? I have to earn it through legitimate business, not counting the money my grandfather and father give me."
The gentleman twirled his snow-white beard, suspicious black dirt visible between his fingernails. His bony fingers grasped Siyan's small hand, his rough thumb rubbing against it. Suddenly, he slapped his thigh, shaking the wooden table of the fortune-telling stall. "Oh! Young master, you're born with the hand of a god of wealth! Look at the wealth pattern at the base of your middle finger, so clear and deep. You'll be destined to be extremely wealthy when you grow up! But..." He suddenly changed the subject, lowering his voice to lean closer to Siyan's ear, "There might be a bloody disaster in the near future... Ugh, it's a disaster that will cause financial loss! You need to get a talisman to ward off misfortune and turn it into good fortune."
Si Yan frowned even tighter and subconsciously clenched the purse at his waist: "Losing money? How much will it cost? Can it be just one or two taels of silver?" He had just calculated yesterday that one or two taels of silver was enough to buy three hundred sesame cakes from Chang'an.
The gentleman smiled and held up three fingers, gently tapping Siyan's palm with his bamboo folded fan. "Not much, not much, just three taels of silver. Buy this amulet from me, and I guarantee you'll turn misfortune into good fortune. The money you earn in the future will be enough to build the Big Wild Goose Pagoda in Chang'an!"
"Three taels?!" Si Yan sucked in a breath of cold air, calculating rapidly in his mind, "That's enough to buy three hundred sugar paintings, five hundred sesame cakes, and ten tubes of the best rouge for my sister!" He was so distressed that his little face wrinkled like a bun.
"Young Master, think about this," the master coaxed, pointing the tip of his fan at Si Yan's bulging purse. "This is called spending money to ward off disaster. Only by warding off the current disaster can you earn more in the future. Look at this talisman paper of mine. It's made with the ashes of thousand-year-old peach wood from Mount Zhongnan, mixed with cinnabar from Chenzhou. It's very effective!"
Si Yan hesitated, his toes unconsciously grinding the pebbles on the ground, his eyes glancing at his mother in the car. Su Jinli stamped her feet anxiously in the car and shouted through the curtains: "Si Yan! Don't believe him! It's all a scam..."
"Mom, you don't understand!" Si Yan turned around and shouted, then turned to the teacher and gritted his teeth, his little face full of determination to go all out, "If it doesn't work, I'll come and smash your stall tomorrow!" He took out three taels of silver from his purse, and every copper coin was polished by him and shined, and he placed it carefully on the table.
The gentleman took the silver, blew gently against his lips, and only when he heard the crisp sound did he smile with satisfaction, his eyes narrowing into slits. He pulled out a yellow paper talisman from his pocket. The cinnabar on it was scribbled crookedly, like a child's scribble: "Take this! May you be safe and prosperous for many years to come!"
Si Yan walked back clutching the talisman paper. The excitement on his face was gone. Instead, he frowned and muttered, "Mom, why do I feel that the old man's eyes are brighter when he looks at the silver than when I look at the account book?"
Su Jinli poked his forehead, feeling distressed and angry: "I told you not to believe in these nonsense! Come on, mother will take you to ask him to return the money!" She lifted the curtain of the carriage, and when her skirt embroidered with lotus flowers swept across the footboard of the carriage, she caught a glimpse of a hideous scar on the fortune teller's cuff, like a twisted centipede, which was particularly dazzling in the morning light.
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