Feng Shui Secrets of the Entertainment Industry

Looking at the phone I had put down, I frowned. This was my new number, and Ma Shuai shouldn't know it.

A large part of the reason I moved from my hometown to Beijing was that my grandfather wanted me to avoid some troubles, and Marshal Ma was one of them.

This isn't the first time my son and I have helped Ma Shuai with his health.

Everyone knows that Ma Shuai is good at comedy sketches and is one of the representative figures of Errenzhuan (a traditional Chinese folk art form), but few people know that Ma Shuai's specialty is Shen Diao (a type of folk song).

While Ma Shuai's current status is certainly due to his abilities, there are many capable people out there. Why was he able to rise to such a position?

Just one point to mention here: Ma Shuai's second uncle is a legitimate successor of shamanism.

From a certain perspective, Ma Shuai can also be considered a member of the Yin sect.

For the past twenty years, whenever Ma Shuai had health problems, it was my grandfather who helped him take care of them.

I know all too well about his affairs.

All I can say is that those who achieve great things are all ruthless and vicious.

Many years ago, when I was still in elementary school, my grandfather had a big argument with Ma Shuai.

The content was so explosive that I still remember it clearly even after many years.

It was just a few days after the New Year, and there weren't many people at the clinic. Ma Shuai braved the heavy snow to get there.

After we arrived, my grandfather started arguing with him after only a few words.

Throughout the whole process, it was basically my grandfather who was scolding him, and he was just listening.

My grandfather cursed him for being cold-blooded and heartless, a beast without feelings, who would even sacrifice his own son for his future.

He said something back then that I still remember to this day.

He said that the child would only suffer if he lived, so it would be better for him to die, at least he could still serve a purpose if he died!

The coldness and ruthlessness in his words deeply shocked me.

My grandfather was furious when he heard this and berated him, saying that his son was born sickly because of him, and that he had no right to say that living was suffering.

Ma Shuai did not refute.

My grandfather finally calmed down after a long bout of cursing.

After calming down, my grandfather took out his acupuncture kit, performed acupuncture on him, and prescribed medicine.

After prescribing the medicine, my grandfather said to him, "Our Feng family doesn't owe your second uncle much anymore."

Without saying a word, Ma Shuai left amidst the wind and snow.

After he left, I asked my grandfather why he was so angry.

My grandfather told me a story.

There was a man who grew up in poverty. His mother died early, his father left for another place, and his grandfather, with whom he depended for survival, also passed away not long after. He grew up relying on the kindness of others for food.

Growing up in such an environment, this person has only one thought in mind: to climb up the social ladder.

Later, he became an apprentice of his second uncle, from whom he learned to play the erhu, learn Errenzhuan (a traditional Chinese folk art form), and even learn how to ask for directions and invoke spirits.

When the first turning point in his life occurred, he set out a bowl to ask for directions and invited a spirit to move him.

He succeeded; the play he performed became an instant hit.

But some things come at a price; if he doesn't pay, his family will.

That year, his son was born, and he was born disabled.

He was heartbroken, but he cared more about his career than his son.

He quickly put aside his guilt, abandoned his wife and son, and threw himself into his career.

Perhaps out of sight, out of mind, or perhaps because not seeing it meant he could pretend nothing had happened, he rarely went home after that.

Time flies, and ten years later, another opportunity comes. In order to get close to a benefactor, he once again sets out a bowl to ask for directions and invites a deity to move him.

This time the cost was even greater; his son died.

At this point in the story, my grandfather asked me if I understood.

I said I understood, and I knew that my grandfather was talking about Marshal Ma.

My grandfather said that in life, one should know what to do and what not to do, and that I should not become like Ma Shuai in the future.

After that, Ma Shuai became more and more popular year by year, his fame grew year by year, and his power expanded rapidly under the help of that benefactor.

Even so, Ma Shuai still comes to my house to pay his respects every Chinese New Year.

My grandfather's reaction to his visit was lukewarm.

Although my grandfather accepted the New Year's gift from Ma Shuai, he will send it to the nursing home as soon as Ma Shuai leaves.

Ma Shuai's health has not been very good over the years, and he has been receiving continuous treatment.

After that big argument, my grandfather rarely brought up the issue of whether or not he owed money. Ma Shuai always paid for everything, and my grandfather handled the affairs.

I didn't understand when I was a child, but I understood when I got older.

My grandfather treated Ma Shuai's health because he owed Ma Shuai's second uncle a favor.

After the big argument, my grandfather continued to treat Ma Shuai's health because Ma Shuai's power was expanding too quickly, and my grandfather was worried that he would take action against me, even though Ma Shuai had never shown such a tendency.

But who can guarantee that someone who would sacrifice his son to climb the social ladder wouldn't do such a thing? My grandfather can't afford to gamble with that.

Before my grandfather passed away, he asked me to sell the house and move to Beijing, so that I could say goodbye to the past and live an ordinary life.

The idea is good, but I've watched my grandfather perform acupuncture and prescribe medicine for all sorts of evil spirits since I was a child, and I learned his skills in doing so. Even if I want to live a peaceful life, those evil spirits will never let me live a peaceful life.

Just like Ma Shuai, I never told him my address or my phone number, but he still came looking for me.

"Grandpa, your grandson is destined for greatness!"

Thinking of this, I chuckled to myself, while also trying to sound a bit pretentious.

Over the next few days, I gave Li Li acupuncture in the mornings and afternoons, and in the evenings I was called out by General Yang to have fun with him.

Sometimes it's on the top floor of his Jinghu Building, and sometimes it's in a bar with a huge dance floor, the largest in Beijing or even Asia.

After a few days of fun, I've seen another side of Yang Zong and realized that his nickname "Dance King" is well-deserved.

Besides that, I also gained some benefits. I got to know several bosses in Yang's circle, and they all ordered nourishing medicines from me.

As the saying goes, "people are no longer in control of their own lives when they reach middle age," and these bosses all have some health problems to varying degrees.

After a few days of revelry, it was time to wake Li Li up.

"Master Feng, can Little Tanuki recover?"

Compared to my composure, Mr. Li was very nervous.

"Don't worry, I've treated cases like Li Li's several times!" I said.

"Everything's fine!"

After I finished speaking, I added another sentence.

After I finished speaking, I inserted the needle into Li Li's body.

From Baihui to Shenting, then to Benshen and Sishencong, these four needles are all acupoints on the head. The entire process took less than three seconds.

After inserting these four needles, I lifted Li Li's right hand and inserted the last needle into the Shenmen acupoint, located at the junction of the palm and wrist.

This acupuncture point is called "Stabilizing the Mind Gate".

After inserting the needle, I gently twisted the end of the needle, and Li Li groaned and opened her eyes.

"Little Tanuki?"

Mr. Li felt a surge of anxiety and called out softly.

"dad!"

Li Li looked at President Li blankly, murmured, and asked, "What's wrong with me?"

After asking that question, he looked at me again and asked, "And who is he?"

Mr. Li was taken aback, then looked at me with an inquiring look. Li Li seemed to have forgotten that unpleasant past.