When Fortune Telling Meets Rules

The fifteenth day of the seventh lunar month is Zi hour. Gu Cheng's fortune-telling stall still has the lights on. He had just sent away the last customer who asked about marriage, and was about to close the stall. When his fingertips brushed against the Three Emperors Coin passed down from his great-grandfather on the stall, the copper coin became inexplicably hot. "The Yin Qi comes from the position, gathers and never disperses..." He frowned slightly and looked up to the west. Above the neon lights of the city, a wisp of gray and decay invisible to ordinary people was coiling around the abandoned department store in the distance like a snake. The phone vibrated, the screen automatically lit up, and a line of blood-red traditional Chinese characters popped up: "You have a glimpse of reality. Welcome aboard." Below, there is a countdown: [00:59:59]. At the same time, there was a burning pain in the palm of my hand. Gu Cheng spread his hands, and a traditional Chinese character "play" as red as blood appeared like a brand.