My name is Chen Jiuliang. My grandfather gave me the name because I weighed exactly nine liang when I was born, just one liang short of a full jin. I nearly didn’t make it.
My grandfather, Chen Banshan, was a collateral-line inheritor of the Northern Ma Yi tradition. He ran a fortune-telling shop in a small county town in Henan for forty years. My father thought the trade was bad luck and left for Guangdong to find work when he was eighteen. He never came back. I grew up with my grandfather.
When I was six, Grandpa taught me to recite the Ma Yi physiognomy text.
When I was nine, I could point to any passerby and tell whether their ancestors had been rich or poor for three generations.
When I was twelve, I predicted that Old Zhao’s wife next door was carrying a boy. Old Zhao didn’t believe me and went for an ultrasound. When he came back, his legs were shaking.
When I was fourteen, everyone in the county knew that Chen Banshan had a grandson even more uncanny than he was.
But my grandfather never praised me. Whenever I got something right, he would puff on his pipe and say the same thing:
“Jiuliang, remember this: the hardest person for a fortune-teller to read is himself.”
I nodded.
Back then, I didn’t know that “the hardest to read” wasn’t an exaggeration or a humble remark. He meant it literally.
"The Master of Fortune" perfectly integrates metaphysics, numerology and urban counterattack. The protagonist has a "no form" fate, which can prevent the fate of all things, but he cannot predict his own destiny. With his palmistry and feng shui, he can easily move among the rich and powerful, and he can slap the scum in the face with ease. The numerology games written by the author are intertwined, containing both hard-core metaphysical knowledge and insights into the warmth and warmth of human nature. The plot is exciting but not frivolous. Watching the protagonist change his destiny and survive despite the odds is extremely enjoyable. Highly recommended to book lovers who love metaphysics and feng shui!