The Water Spirit's Lots

Maotao raised his hand. "I want to try too!" He gave it a shot, and ended up drawing a lower-middle lot. The verse read: *With a heart earnest and sincere, the earthen jar always breaks by the well.* Maotao looked thoroughly dejected. He Yue chuckled. "Cheer up. At least it's better than what my brother got." Fretting, Maotao muttered to himself, "Do I need to eat more pig's trotter noodles lately to wash away the bad luck?" Next came Zhu-shi, who took the canister and gave it a few shakes. She drew an upper-middle lot as well. "The first year I was sold here, I came twice to draw lots. Months apart, both were upper-middle lots, telling me my future would turn out well." She bit her lip and added, "If not for that bit of hope, I would have thrown myself into the lake long ago." Watching and listening, Madam Ying could hold back no longer. Curiosity finally conquered her fear. When her lot clattered to the floor, everyone gasped. "The best lot!" Inscribed on the stick was: *A riot of vibrant blossoms; greets purple qi at dawn, roosts in clouds by night.* Maotao was green with envy. "Mistress, yours has blossoms, purple qi, and auspicious clouds—all wonderful omens!" Who didn't love hearing good fortune? Madam Ying smiled so broadly she could hardly close her mouth. "Oh, this... goodness, these divination sticks can't be taken as truth." He Lingchuan silently took the canister and shook it a few more times. The result was entirely predictable: the red worst lot remained inseparable from him. Seeing his elder brother's expression turn darker and darker, He Yue cleared his throat. "There must be a lot interpreter in this shrine, right?" The Water Spirit Shrine had once welcomed clouds of visitors and burning incense; it could not have lacked a resident lot interpreter. "Old Man Liu, who looks after the shrine, handles the interpretations," Zhu-shi said. "But he's in the west half of the village right now. The bandits didn't kill him, probably because he's a decent cook." "Then we'll get him over here." Stowing the lots away, He Lingchuan turned and marched toward the west side of the village. "Chuan'er, you're going to deal with those ferocious cutthroats?" Madam Ying fretted. "This is no time to stir up trouble." He Lingchuan did not answer, his stride only growing firmer. Everyone else thought he was overreacting, but only he knew that the words *the dove usurps the magpie's nest* were driven like a nail into his heart, stabbing straight through the deepest secret he harbored. He had to get to the bottom of this! Xianling Village was hardly vast. Walking briskly, he soon reached the boundary negotiated between the soldiers and bandits. Two soldiers stood on this side, while two bandits stood on the other. He Lingchuan called out to the pair across the line: "I want to buy someone: Old Man Liu, the caretaker of the Water Spirit Shrine." One bandit leaned back lazily. "What do you want him for?" "Got nothing better to do, so I want him to interpret some lots for me." He Lingchuan pinched a large silver ingot between his fingers and waved it before them. "Keeping an old codger does you no good anyway. Better to trade him for silver." The ingot weighed a full ten taels, and the silver was of the finest purity. An old codger truly was useless, aside from cooking reasonably well. The two bandits huddled to mutter for a moment, then turned back. "You'll have to add more." He Lingchuan sneered and spun around to leave. Did they dare try such a clumsy trick on him? Did these small fry get enough from looting alongside their chief to even buy a night of wine and courtesans? He severely doubted it. Sure enough, seeing him walk away, the two panicked. "Come back, come back! Deal, it's a deal!" They had no intention of consulting anyone else. Bringing in another man meant cutting another share of the coin. Before long, the bandits returned dragging an old man with grizzled hair and beard, shoving him across the boundary line. "There. Hand over the money." Without hesitation, He Lingchuan tossed the silver ingot over. To their surprise, the surrounding villagers witnessed the exchange. Several men and women lunged forward, wailing, "Buy us too! Kind lords and ladies, have mercy and buy us over as well!" Who didn't know the east of the village was safe while the west was pure misery? Seeing Old Man Liu successfully reach safe harbor, the other villagers were frantic. Maotao caught hold of Old Man Liu and fell in behind He Lingchuan. Madam Ying tried to chime in, "Everyone, please remain calm..." but He Yue grabbed her arm and pulled her back without a word. Now was not the time to save people. Before long, the commotion alerted the bandit chief, who rushed over to demand an explanation. The two henchmen hemmed and hawed until a pair of slaps across their faces finally forced the truth out. "He wants to buy, so you sell?" The chief cracked two more stinging blows across their faces. "If he wanted to buy your lives, would you sell those too?" Were these two idiots in the head? With miserable expressions, both stammered that they would never dare. The chief held out a hand in fury. "Where's the money?" *** Meanwhile, once Old Man Liu crossed into the eastern sector of the village, he poured out his gratitude to everyone, stopping just short of kneeling to kowtow. The cutthroats were merciless monsters; like the other villagers, he had assumed he wouldn't live to see the dawn. These living deities had pulled him from an abyss of suffering. "Show your thanks with practical action instead." He Lingchuan pulled the two worst lots from his robes. "Interpret these for me." "Eh?" Taking the red sticks, Old Man Liu froze. "Who drew these?" "Me." Old Man Liu looked at him, then down at the sticks. "And the other one?" He Lingchuan's mood darkened further. "Me as well." "How is that possible?" The old man's mouth nearly formed an O. "You drew two worst lots in a row?" "I drew over a dozen times, and every single time it was these two." He Lingchuan pointed to the others. "They drew upper-middle and top-tier lots." Such a thing was entirely unheard of to Old Man Liu. He stood dazed for a good while before asking for light. Old eyes grew blurry, and the script on the sticks was small. Maotao held a torch close—so close it nearly scorched the wood—before Old Man Liu squinted and read through the verses on both sticks. "Oh, it's these two." Maotao, ever the dutiful foil, chimed in, "What about these two?" "These two were newly crafted and placed inside only ten days ago." No wonder the red lacquer looked so fresh. "Around here, whenever a worst lot is drawn, it must be removed and stored elsewhere, never returned to the canister, because no two people share the same great calamity. Lord Water Spirit stopped allowing mortals to seek divinations long ago, and the sticks in that canister hadn't been replenished or replaced for two years." Old Man Liu spoke as he dredged his memory. "Yet ten days ago, Lord Water Spirit suddenly appeared to me in a dream, saying a great disaster was about to befall me. Scared half to death, I begged for a way out. Lord Water Spirit then told me that as long as I crafted two such new lots and placed them in the canister, I would turn misfortune into good luck." The listeners exchanged glances. It truly seemed to have played out that way: Old Man Liu was safe only because He Lingchuan sought an interpretation. "So these two sticks were prepared specifically for me?" He Lingchuan's eyes narrowed with suspicion. Could this be a trap? "Then interpret them for me." "I cannot." "What?" He Lingchuan demanded in frustration. "Did I waste my silver? Aren't you the shrine's interpreter?" "These two are 'silent lots,' meaning they may only be seen, not interpreted." Old Man Liu gave a bitter smile. "This old man has a secret, which I might as well share with my benefactors now. In the past, I could interpret lots only because Lord Water Spirit lent me a wisp of immortal power; however..."