Chapter 78: The Goldfish Recorded in the Burial Sutra

“What’s this?!”

Lin Qiu and the others stared in surprise at the grove of Dragon’s Claw Locust trees before them. Around the woods ran a winding canal, stretching endlessly beyond sight. A few large willows stood scattered along the riverbank, their branches swaying and scattering droplets of rain.

The Dragon’s Claw Locust, a tree whose gnarled, twisted branches resemble ancient vines, had bark broken and brown, with limbs jutting from its trunk in shapes like clawing dragon talons—thus its name. These trees were usually seen in martyrs’ cemeteries, lending an air of solemnity.

At the heart of this encircling grove lay a vast expanse, its ground paved with bluestone, where tombs stood, each marked by a headstone. At a glance, every stone bore the character for “Thunder.”

“This is actually a family cemetery—how astounding!” Xu Bing and the young woman with him widened their eyes at the sight: green trees, flourishing grass, Dragon’s Claw Locusts surrounding, and a river flowing gently by. Such a place was far beyond the means of ordinary wealthy families.

“This is the ancestral burial ground of the Lei family,” said the geomancer Ji Heng. “Generations of Lei ancestors are laid to rest here. This is a dragon’s lair, an auspicious site. Centuries ago, the Lei family produced a general—three generations inherited the title, establishing vast estates. Though successive dynasties saw the family’s fortunes decline, they remained among the great houses. During the wars of recent times, the last patriarch of the Lei family bore nine sons; eight followed him to battle, and all perished. The one remaining son is the old master whose funeral is today—he died peacefully at the age of eighty-six.”

Ji Heng’s words moved them all, and their expressions grew grave.

Where they stood now, nine graves were arranged. At the head was a grand tomb, with eight smaller ones fanned out around it like stars encircling the moon. Before the largest headstone stood a stone inscription recounting the old master’s deeds: a family of nine sons, eight lost to war. A lineage of loyalty and sacrifice, nearly extinguished.

The group gazed at the cemetery in respectful silence.

“Wait here awhile; I have work to do,” said Ji Heng, drawing a compass from her sleeve and walking away.

“Let’s go have a look too,” Lin Qiu said, leading his curious companions after her. Of them all, the young woman was the expert—she held two doctoral degrees, one in archaeology.

She stepped forward and peered into the freshly dug grave, where water had already gathered. To her surprise, she saw a goldfish swimming there.

“Huh?” she exclaimed in astonishment. Lin Qiu leaned over to look and cried out as well—not because of the goldfish itself, but because it wasn’t a physical creature at all, but rather a mirage-like reflection. It was only an image.

The young woman’s eyes sparkled. “This is a true Feng Shui goldfish—not manmade. It’s formed by the lay of the land, the ‘dragon’s vein’ and ‘dragon’s sand,’ the water’s direction, the celestial star cycle, nine stars encircling—this is the essence of Feng Shui. Modern people don’t understand; they might hang gourds or coins in the grave, but that’s not correct.”

“Oh? You know quite a bit, little one,” Ji Heng remarked, studying her with interest.

A blush rose on the young woman’s cheeks, and she smiled demurely. “I just read a little in my spare time—hardly worth showing off before an expert like you.”

Ji Heng laughed and nodded. “Learned and humble—a rare combination. Well done, young lady.”

Lin Qiu, still curious, asked, “So what exactly is this goldfish?”

“It’s a Feng Shui goldfish,” Ji Heng replied, her tone now serious. “In my fifty-three years as a geomancer, this is the first time I’ve seen a genuine one. This is the ‘nine stars encircling the moon’ formation—it alters the earth’s magnetic field, and water in the grave gives rise to the goldfish, which blesses the descendants with prosperity and fortune. As the Burial Classic records: ‘The greatest principle of Feng Shui is to find water; next is to conceal from the wind.’ Goldfish water, shrimp-whisker water, crab-eye water—these are wondrous phenomena rarely seen.”

“I always thought the ancient texts were full of fanciful tales. Who would have thought, so near to my own burial, I’d witness them at last.” Ji Heng shook her head in wonder, then began measuring with her compass.

Lin Qiu and his companions understood little of this. Even the scholarly young woman, though an archaeology PhD, only grasped theory from books. True Feng Shui and the art of locating dragon veins required experience and a master’s guidance, not mere rote learning.

Ji Heng worked busily, taking measurements. At some point, the sun emerged again—though it was already past five in the afternoon, and its rays were no longer harsh. The orange light, softened by the rain-dampened air, did not feel hot.

As the sun sank halfway into the western sea, Ji Heng finally completed her task. She instructed the pallbearers to lift the old master’s coffin and gently lower it into the grave according to her precise directions.

With the coffin settled, the goldfish played in the water. Lin Qiu and the others watched, eyes wide in disbelief. As the coffin was brought here, the black mist on its surface dissipated faster. But now, as it entered the grave, the water instantly turned as black as ink—even the goldfish became a black fish.

“What’s happening?!” Ji Heng cried out, staring fixedly at the black fish, her expression shifting between confusion and dread. In all her years studying the Burial Classic and practicing as a geomancer, she had never encountered such a thing. With no precedent, she didn’t know how to proceed.

Lin Qiu and the others exchanged uneasy glances, a heavy feeling settling over them. None dared suggest opening the coffin to see what lay inside—the Lei family would surely drive them away with sticks if they did.

Ji Heng, uncertain, gritted her teeth and commanded, “Seal the grave!”

At her order, the helpers swiftly filled the muddy earth around the tomb with their shovels. Ji Heng stood firm, watching as the grave was leveled into a low mound, then capped with a bowl-shaped clump of earth at the top.

The headstone, measured and placed by her own hand, was now firmly anchored in the soil. Yellow ritual papers fluttered down, covering the grave. The wreaths, soaked by rain, as well as paper horses and sedan chairs, were doused in gasoline and set alight, sending a foul odor drifting through the air.

“Let’s return,” Ji Heng invited, leading Lin Qiu and the others away.

What came after would be the Lei family’s concern. As a geomancer, her duty was done.

On the way back, none of them spoke. A heavy unease lingered in their hearts, as if something ominous was about to unfold.