The Grave Robbers' Chronicles: What Makes a Home

I was once branded a traitor by the Zhang family. The members of the family’s main branch believed that my defection had caused the Zhang family’s collapse.

I didn’t leave the Zhang family as a traitor, and its collapse had nothing to do with me. Leaving was the only way out.

My mother was oppressed and persecuted by my father’s closest relatives. She hated them so much that she cursed them to die miserable deaths.

If I hadn’t known any of this, my longing for family would have kept me rooted in the Zhang family. I would have worked tirelessly until I gave the last drop of my blood for the clan.

But I knew.

When I was little, they brought me back to the Zhang family and named me Zhang Liubai. Liubai, Liubai. They had chosen to keep me.

In the end, I still left. There was no other reason: I wanted an explanation. Even if the clan leader was lying to me, I chose to believe him. But his habitual silence left me feeling utterly hopeless.

They had chosen to keep me, but they had also chosen not to accept me.

I felt there was no point staying with the Zhang family. My father wanted me to live well, so I left to find a reason to keep living.

After wandering the world for a long time, I began trying to let go of the obsessions in my heart.

Later, I acted on impulse and agreed to two things, taking in two people.

One was my cousin in name, and the other was the Zhang family’s clan leader.

When my cousin acts up, a beating sorts him out. The clan leader is different. He has a whole bunch of Zhang family members scattered across the ends of the earth behind him, and I’m still on the Zhang family’s assassination list. If I get into another fight with the clan leader over who’s right, I’m afraid…

Forget it. Whatever happens, happens. Not bothering anyone is the last kindness I can offer. I’ll just stick to being a feng shui con artist.

But can someone tell me why, in the twenty-first century, it’s become fashionable to drag feng shui con artists off to rob tombs?