"Your eyebrows are messy and inverted, indicating a half-brother in the sibling palace. Combined with your father's recent indifference leaving you financially strained—all stems from jealousy. But there's a way to change this..."
As I finished, the girl grabbed my hands urgently. The scent of her perfume and the whiteness of her neck made my heart skip a beat. At my age, full of energy, and with no time for relationships due to my feng shui studies, her proximity was distracting.
"You're incredible! Please tell me what to do. My father cut off my credit cards; I have no money!" she sobbed, drawing a crowd.
I stepped back to compose myself. Her Jupiter mount on the palm showed water patterns—like trying to hold water, she was destined to squander wealth. I could only offer limited help; real change depended on her.
She thrust 1,000 yuan into my hand. Taking her birth chart, I learned she was Zhao Na, 20, a normal university student. I asked to visit her home—stepmother conflicts often require a simple feng shui setup to restore harmony.
Her neighborhood was one of Shenyang's top villa districts. The house had a narrow front and wide back, auspicious for wealth accumulation—clearly, the developer understood feng shui.
Wealthy people often prioritize feng shui, unlike the rugged northeast where many are superstitious. Take Zhang Zuolin's Mansion: legend says the architect wanted to place a rockery as a "backing," but Zhang, proud of his military might, insisted it face the front as a watchtower. The rockery's angle later aligned with the 1928 Huanggutun Incident site—coincidence or fate?
Back to Zhao Na. "What's wrong with my house?" she asked nervously.
"Nothing," I lied, praising the villa's design: mountains and water surrounding it, a central flower bed with round stones and elephant statues to ward off negative energy from the crossroads.
Entering the villa, I was struck by its opulence: antiques, a silver screen, and a calligraphy scroll with a prominent (goodness), embodying the feng shui principle that virtue repels evil. The house radiated positive qi, confirming her father was charitable.
I proposed setting up a "Lying on Ice to Catch Carp" feng shui array in her bedroom: ice blocks at the kan (water) and xun (wind) positions under the bed, sealed with cinnabar, paired with a carp painting. After 49 days, she should cook black carp soup for her stepmother to reconcile the family.
Entering a girl's bedroom for the first time, I saw (European-style) decor, mountains of stuffed toys, and designer clothes. As Zhao Na fetched ice, I smelled a faint stench—taboo in feng shui, as decay poisons home qi.
We moved the bed and found a floor gap. Underneath lay a dried, roasted rat, its stench mingling with a photo of Zhao Na and her father tied together with red string.