Chapter 62: Astonishment — Two Faces in One Lifetime
Granny Liu’s face looked perfect—not in terms of physical beauty, but in terms of physiognomy.
It was the first time Su Keke had ever seen such a perfectly “good-person” face.
Kind-hearted by nature, blessed with many children and much fortune.
…Many children and much fortune?
Su Keke froze.
She finally realized what felt strange.
Physiognomy and fortune usually correspond to each other. For example, kind people are often blessed, and those who accumulate goodwill are unlikely to end their line without descendants.
But this granny… her uncle had just said she had no children or grandchildren, living all alone. That in itself was contradictory.
The reason Su Keke hadn’t noticed anything amiss at first was because when Granny Liu wasn’t smiling, her “children palace” was sunken and the tails of her brows drooped—clearly the face of someone without descendants. Yet the moment she smiled, her physiognomy actually changed, transforming into the look of someone blessed with many children and much fortune!
Two faces in one lifetime—something Su Keke had never heard of, never seen.
Noticing her gaze, Granny Liu looked at her and asked kindly, “Little girl, is this your first time in my shop? You look unfamiliar.”
Su Keke nodded. “Yes, Granny. This is my first time here.”
Her master often said that in this vast world, there was nothing too strange to exist. Just because she hadn’t seen it before didn’t mean it didn’t exist. She could always ask her master about it later.
So Su Keke didn’t dwell on the matter anymore.
Seeing her uncle pick up the ink stick to grind ink himself, she quickly said, “Uncle, let me do it. When my master used to write, I always helped him grind the ink. I’m good at this.”
Qin Mochen didn’t argue and handed the things over to her.
Su Keke asked Granny Liu for a bit of clean water. Fresh well water or spring water would have been even better, but the conditions didn’t allow it here.
After dripping a few drops into the inkstone, the little girl stood properly, one hand steadying the inkstone, the other holding the ink stick upright, carefully grinding in slow circles.
Though it looked simple, there was a lot of technique involved.
The pressure and speed had to be just right. Too fast or too slow would make the ink coarse and uneven. Too light and too slow wasted time and made the ink float; too heavy and too fast made the ink rough and foamy, dulling its color.
“This little girl is quite good,” Granny Liu praised, watching her posture and technique.
Su Keke pressed her lips together in a shy smile. “Granny, don’t praise me. I’ve just done it a lot, so it looks decent.”
Being praised really was both embarrassing and delightful.
“Good ink, when ground, becomes fine and moist without being flashy. Granny, your ink is very good,” Su Keke said, then smiled at her uncle. “No wonder Uncle came here empty-handed just to write.”
The ink she usually used with her master was inferior; when grinding it, you could hear a rough, sandy rasp.
Qin Mochen raised an eyebrow slightly, a smile touching his eyes. “That’s right. I came here just to take advantage of that.”
“All right, kid, aren’t your hands tired?”
Su Keke lifted her chin a little, wearing a faintly smug look. “This is nothing. When I draw talismans, I can do a hundred in a row without stopping. I trained my wrist strength a long time ago.”
Once the ink was ready, she stepped aside.
Some people didn’t like others standing too close while they wrote, so she kept a small distance.
Qin Mochen glanced at her. His expression relaxed, a hint of softness in his eyes. Then he dipped the thick brush into the ink, paused slightly, and began to write.
The man wrote with sweeping ease. Each stroke fell like a dragon taking flight or ten thousand horses charging forward. Where the tip was hidden, sharpness lay concealed; where the tip was revealed, restraint remained within. At the final stroke, he abruptly pulled back.
The eight bold, unrestrained characters leapt onto the paper:
“Blessings as vast as the Eastern Sea, longevity as enduring as the Southern Mountains.”
Granny Liu nodded repeatedly. “Excellent. Very well written.”
Su Keke had seen his calligraphy earlier in the study, but watching him write on the spot—the way he wielded the brush, the focused look in his eyes—was itself like a painting, pleasing to behold.
“Uncle, why did you write these words? Are you giving them to an elder?” Su Keke asked.
Qin Mochen hummed in acknowledgment. “An old friend of mine is celebrating his seventieth birthday tomorrow. He lacks nothing, so I thought I’d write him a piece instead.”
Su Keke smiled. “It seems Uncle really values this birthday celebrant. I’m sure the elder will feel your sincerity.”
Qin Mochen rubbed her little head.
“Granny, can it be framed by noon tomorrow?” he asked.
“Yes. The materials are already prepared, and you ordered the scroll rollers in advance. There are only a few simple steps left.”
“Then I’ll trouble you.”
“Hehe, this is what Granny does—it’s no trouble at all.”
Granny Liu went inside again and brought out a small box. “When I made the scroll ends, there was some jade left over. It can be made into accessories or bracelets. Take it with you.”
Qin Mochen gently pushed the box back. “It’s a gift for you, Granny.”
Granny Liu hurriedly waved her hands. “Oh no, no, that won’t do. It’s too valuable. You’ve already paid a deposit.”
“Your craftsmanship is no worse than those masters. You deserve it.”
Su Keke smiled as well. “Granny, please accept it. This jade has affinity with you.”
Only then did Granny Liu stop refusing. Her wrinkled hands touched the jade inside the box. After closing the lid, she put it away.
Qin Mochen and Su Keke stayed with the old woman, chatting for half an hour before leaving.
Granny Liu stood at the doorway, staring at their retreating figures for a while. At one instant, her cloudy old eyes became astonishingly clear, a sharp gleam flashing deep within them. Yet in the blink of an eye, she lowered her gaze again, hunched her back, and went inside.
“Uncle, will you take me with you to the birthday banquet tomorrow?” Su Keke asked on the way back.
Qin Mochen paused, frowning slightly. “You’re not suited for that kind of occasion.”
“But I have to protect you. Taking money and not doing the job is just being a rogue.”
Qin Mochen laughed at that. “Who taught you that?”
“My master said it. I think it makes a lot of sense.”
Put crudely, taking money without doing the work is being a scoundrel. In professional terms, it means owing people favors and inviting karmic ties.
In their line of work, the biggest taboo was owing favors and entangling oneself in karma. The more karmic threads a person carried, the heavier they became, which hindered cultivation.
Su Keke was a feng shui practitioner with lofty ambitions. Anything she could avoid, she would avoid.
However, no matter how reasonable Su Keke thought it was, Qin Mochen still didn’t agree to take her along.
“If anything happens, I’ll call you.”
With that single sentence, Qin Mochen shut down the little girl’s argument.
“Then… can you send me a message every fifteen minutes to report that you’re safe?” Su Keke tried again, then added very seriously, “I’m really worried about your safety, Uncle—especially since there will be a lot of people at the banquet. When there are many people, it’s easy for things to happen.”
Qin Mochen looked at her and couldn’t help rubbing his temple.
This little girl was really pushing her luck.
“…All right,” the man agreed.
His tone carried helplessness—yet also a trace of willing indulgence.
