The Art Of Chinese Character Divination

The Taoist priest flashed a faint smile. "To make people believe you, your words have to hit the bullseye every time. And to hit the bullseye, you've got to master reading people first. Spot their quirks, their tells, and spit it out without a second thought.

Take this woman, for instance. She's decked out in red, but her collar's all wrinkled—not the vibe of an unmarried girl.

The two from earlier? Unmarried. They cared about how they looked stepping out. This one doesn't. That's clue number one.

Her hands and feet? Not chubby—honestly, pretty slim—but her chest? Huge. That's a dead giveaway she's had a kid and nursed it. Clue number two."

Wait a sec. So the teacher didn't figure out she was married from the character "立" (stand)? He saw it in her body? Man, I just picked up another trick.

"Then how'd you figure out from '立' that everyone in the guy's family was against the marriage except her?" I asked.

The priest grabbed a piece of paper and scribbled down "立." "It's all about the middle part," he said. "Character reading's a game of adding or subtracting strokes. See this '立'? The middle's got a left stroke and a right stroke. Add two more, and you get '人人'—'people, people.' But '立' doesn't have those extra strokes, so 'people, people' falls apart. No backing, no support."

I kinda got the gist and threw out, "What if she'd picked '卒' (end)? Would that mean everyone's on board?"

He chuckled. "Been reading characters for decades, and not once has anyone thrown '卒' at me. People come here chasing a happy ending. They pick something lucky or a character from their own name."

I nodded, soaking it in.

Out of nowhere, he tested me. "That woman behind us—was she here just to get her character read, or was it a spur-of-the-moment thing?"

I scratched my head, mulling it over, then gave an awkward laugh.

He smirked. "Spur-of-the-moment."

"You even know *that*?"

"Everything's tied together in this world," he said, leaning in. "Let me break it down with some logic."

"Go for it," I said, nodding.

"The two girls before her and this one? All foot-washing girls. All from the same hometown."

I stared, hanging on every word, terrified I'd miss something.

He kept going. "First off, I caught a hint of a Henan accent in all three of their Mandarin.

Second, you nailed the first girl's fortune so hard she called the red-clothed one over on the spot.

Third, they're all asking about marriage."

Huh. That actually made sense.

"After getting that call," he added, "the red-clothed one shoved her kid onto her mother-in-law or some relative. No time to change—she just bolted over here."

I wouldn't bet my life on his guess being perfect, but damn, his reasoning was tight, one loop locking into the next.

The priest stood, ducked into his study for a sec, and came back tossing me two books. "Read these for a month. I'll quiz you again."

That month, I dove headfirst into the art of reading people. Way harder than *The Secret Manual of Character Reading*. With characters, you've got something solid to pick apart. With people? You've gotta look, pull out a one-two-three, and get them to nod along like, "Yeah, that's me."

No choice but to practice on family and friends while sharpening my eye.

One day, I spotted ink smudged under my brother-in-law's fingernails. I grinned. "What, you aiming to be a calligrapher now?"

His face lit up with a giant question mark. "How'd you know I've been practicing calligraphy?"

I didn't, really, so I laughed it off. "Just letting you know—I'm basically Master Hongyi's disciple now."

He yanked me aside, voice low. "Shop's gotten bigger. Your sister runs the front, we've got a chef for the stir-fry, waiters for the floor. I just handle procurement. Used to hit the market myself, but now it's all delivered—I just check the stuff. Got too much free time, so I set up a table in the basement warehouse to practice."

I silently high-fived myself for nailing it and said, "Your handwriting's already solid. Polish it up, snag a spot in the provincial calligraphy association, and freak my sister out."

He sighed. "If they won't let me run stuff, I've gotta find some fun, right?"

Felt a pang for the guy. He's educated, and my sister? Seven years of elementary school. No idea how they clicked back in the day.

Few days later, Dongzi dropped by.

From the weird mix of joy and nerves on his face, I sensed something and said, "You've got good vibes. Let me read your fortune."

"I'm a materialist," he snapped. "Don't buy into that crap."

I shot him a sideways look. "Just try it. I'm wrong, you laugh. I'm right, maybe it gives you a boost."

"Fine, go ahead."

"You've got good news brewing, but it's not set in stone yet."

Dongzi froze, jaw dropped. "No way you just said that. You're right. Been job-hunting since graduation. Took the city's civil service exam—aced the written part, waiting on the interview. Came to ask if your sister, with her business taking off and that women's entrepreneur forum she hit up, knows any city bigwigs to pull some strings."

I shook my head. "She's just starting out. I wrote her forum speech. She's not tight with any leaders."

Dongzi slumped. "No connections, so I thought I'd ask. Maybe the interview's fair."

"How about I read a character for you?"

"Told you, I don't believe that stuff."

"Didn't I just nail it?"

He wavered, stuck.

"Here's the deal," I said. "Sign this paper first."

Too lazy to argue, he scrawled "Qiao Dong" in a flashy swoop.

"Pick a character. I'll write the prediction on the back, stash it in the drawer, and we'll check it later."

Dongzi, slouched and half-assed, mumbled, "'便' (convenience)."

I stepped away and wrote: *"便 = person + more. A new environment. Success in getting hired."*

Back in the room, I crumpled the paper right in front of him and chucked it in the drawer.

After he left, I sucked it up and went to my sister, spilling Dongzi's story.

She scowled. "I barely know the leaders by face. Plus, we've got our own favors to ask—why would I stick my neck out for him?"

Ouch. Shot down cold.

Two weeks later, Dongzi called. "Got the job! What'd you predict?"

I snapped pics of the paper and sent them over.

Phone rang again. "Master, I'm bowing down! Dinner's on me—then a foot wash!"

We met at the Phoenix Grand Hotel. He introduced a girl. "Xiao Xiaoyun, my classmate."

"Master Wan," she said, "Dongzi's told me all about you."

Post-dinner, Dongzi dragged us to the fourth floor—Liangzi Foot Wash City.

Three girls walked in. I froze. They froze.

Dongzi caught the vibe. "You know each other?"

The skinny one piped up, "Yeah, the master from Youran Residence."

I couldn't help but gawk. The priest was half a god—he'd pegged them all as foot-washing girls from the same hometown.

---