When I was nineteen years old, my master passed away, and I was kicked down the mountain to have a ridiculous baby kiss. The fiancé is the richest man in Chengdu, has two Ph. D. S in financial computer science, is aloof and ascetic, and hates feudal superstition the most. When they first met, he made an agreement: take the money and leave after three months. Until his brakes failed that could not be explained by science, my casual sentence "There will be a bloody disaster in three days" came true. This materialistic boss started knocking on my door in the middle of the night: "Last time you said there was something wrong with my office's feng shui, please tell me in detail?"
