Ji Chen, a young man from Qingxi Village, understands the deeper meaning of the Li trigram by studying the rings of the old locust tree: the path of the light vein, and the call of his bloodline. The peach pit his mother left behind, the jade cong passed down by his father, and the star remnant guarded by Uncle Chen all tell the same secret: the light vein is not energy, but the heartbeat of “us”; the trigrams are not prophecies, but bridges that connect fate.
When the golden seals he and Xiaoman bear merge in their palms, and the trigram patterns on the jade cong resonate with the rings of the old locust tree, Ji Chen finally understands: to be a “divine diviner” is to use the trigrams to see the connections between oneself and the world. The light vein flows through their blood, the old locust tree's rings record their meeting, and the jade cong's words guide their way.
They carry the answer, “Light is born from Li's fire, and the heart's pulse is our guide,” as they journey toward Guixu. They do not seek to conquer the darkness, but to protect every warmth that has been remembered. A true divine diviner is never found in a tortoise shell or a divination board, but in every choice to say, “Together.” That is the light vein in its truest form.
