People in Yongningfang say that Mr. Shen's fortune telling is accurate. Only Shen Qingya knew that she couldn't tell fortunes at all. She weaves stories to perfection. No one found it. Until that day, when she was squatting behind the Gua stall, polishing copper coins, she heard someone in the tea shed at the entrance of the alley say, "Have you heard? The man from the East Palace has invited himself out of the palace." She raised her head and glanced up. A man in a plain robe sat by the window on the second floor of the teahouse across the street. There was a book in my hand, but the pages were not turned; there was tea in front of me, but it was not touched. Three days later she went to the teahouse and sat across from him. "You've been watching it for three days." She poured herself a cup of cold tea, which she also drank. "Is The Liar in Yonglefang better than the play in East Palace?" He closed the book and said, "Your name is Shen Qingya." "You're checking me?" "Three days." He refilled her cup of hot tea, "enough for me to finish checking your affairs from the age of ten to now." Shen Qingya looked down at the cup of steaming tea. "... Then you're still looking for me?" He stood up, walked to the door and paused: "Tomorrow, come to Yanju. I'll treat you to dinner." She didn't ask him why. But she went. Because she knew that he had been investigating the cause of her mother's death for three years, and that the same year her adoptive father entered the palace and disappeared. Two cases. The same murderer. There is a new cup of tea on Yan Ju's stone table. Gu Xingzhi sat opposite, turning over a file in his hand without raising his head: "Your master left something with my mother before entering the palace. You help me find out the deaths of those children, and I will return that thing to you." Shen Qingya picked up the cup of tea and took a sip. Bitter. But not poisonous. "Deal."
Intention: Destiny can be created or dismantled. One cannot be enslaved by illusions.