A Man Surnamed Bo, Yet Named Changsheng

Jingping Year Eleven, the morning.

Half a li of the East Canal embankment collapsed. Before it gave way, Bo Shisan submitted three reports saying there were three hollow spots in the embankment. None of them ever made it out of the Ministry of Works' records office. The only reply was one word: **Later**.

Seven months later, the embankment collapsed. He died on top of it, still clutching a brush.

Bo Changsheng went to file a petition. He knelt for six hours and got three words in return: "Wait a little longer."

He was seventeen, with no registration, no property, and no name to his credit. His surname was Bo and his given name Changsheng, meaning "long life." For someone with the surname Bo, a name like Changsheng was the hardest thing in his life to live down.

He had a pair of eyes that could see which line of a person's fate hexagram they were on, and whether the moment called for action or restraint.

The price was that every time he looked, his own life grew a little shorter.

He didn't care.

He only wanted the hands pressing down on those memorials to move.

Even if only once.

This novel and its characters are entirely fictional. Any resemblance to actual events or people is purely coincidental. Do not imitate.