Under One Person: Feng Shui Master, I Will Protect the Mountains and Rivers with My Own Body

Zhuge Bagua Village, Jiande, Zhejiang.

The morning mist had not yet dissipated, and the ancient village with its white walls and black tiles looked as if it were immersed in an ink painting.

At the pond at the village entrance, several geese were raising their necks to patrol their territory. Early-rising villagers gathered in twos and threes in front of the breakfast stalls, and the aroma of cooking rose from the steaming baskets.

Yan Que was wearing a faded old man's shirt, flip-flops, carrying two bags of fried dough sticks, and holding a bag of hot soy milk under his elbow. He was haggling with the breakfast stall owner.

"Hey Lao Zhang, why does this tofu bun seem to have less filling than before? Look at this one, it's all flattened. Did they skimp on the filling? I have to talk to Ning'er about this; it's commercial fraud."

The shopkeeper rolled his eyes, clearly used to this kind of shameless behavior: "Mr. Yan, please watch your mouth. Those two look the same size; the flat one was squeezed out right after it came out of the pot. Besides, you always take two cloves of garlic from me every time you come. Who am I supposed to complain to?"

Yan Que chuckled, casually grabbed another clove of garlic from the garlic basket and stuffed it into his pocket, then strolled back, satisfied. Just as he turned the corner, he bumped into two figures, one tall and one short.

"Good morning, Uncle-in-law! Taking a stroll?"

The speaker was a man in his thirties, dressed in a well-fitting casual outfit, his hair neatly combed. Although he had a smile on his face, there was a glint of shrewdness in his eyes. This was Zhuge Gong, a pillar of the Zhuge family in this generation.

Upon hearing this address, Yan Que's face wrinkled up: "Good morning, Brother Gong. I've said it eight hundred times already, we brothers each speak our own way, your calling me 'Old Uncle' makes me feel like I'm half-buried."

"Hahaha, that won't do." Zhuge Gong laughed heartily, not taking the seniority distinction seriously at all. "You know Aunt Ning's temperament; she's petty and narrow-minded, and she's very pleased with her 'elder' status. When I was six, she sat on the ground and cried for half an hour just because I didn't call her 'Old Aunt.' Every time she cried, my grandfather would beat my father, and my father would turn around and beat me... That's a lesson learned in blood!"

Yan Que's lips twitched as he listened, and he couldn't help but shudder as he imagined his wife as a mischievous little devil when she was young.

"Qing, call him 'son-in-law,' and greet him." Zhuge Gong patted the little boy who had been standing quietly beside him.

The little boy looked to be only eleven or twelve years old, with short blue hair that was a family tradition of the Zhuge family. His eyes were narrow and long, and even when he smiled, they looked like they were slits.

He bowed obediently, his voice already carrying a hint of coolness: "Greetings, son-in-law."

"Hey, good morning, Qing." Yan Que switched the fried dough stick in his hand to the other, freeing his hand to pat the child's head, but then remembered that he had just touched garlic, so he awkwardly withdrew his hand. "This little guy is much prettier than Gong. He's definitely a good seedling for cultivation. Those squinty eyes... tsk tsk, who knows how many young girls he'll charm in the future."

Zhuge Gong was speechless; why did his uncle's compliments sound so awkward?

Looking at the obedient Zhuge Qing before him, Yan Que's eyes suddenly became somewhat dazed. He thought of his troublesome eldest son.

Counting the days, it has been a full six years since we parted ways at Longhu Mountain.

In those six years, apart from a few illegible letters and the occasional phone call that only reported good news and not bad, that little brat was like a kite with a broken string.

I heard he was recently seconded to Nadutong. I wonder if he's been well-fed and clothed outside, or if he's been bullied... although it's more likely he's the one bullying others.

Yan Que sighed, instantly adopting the role of an empty-nest elderly person, his tone filled with desolation: "Sigh, looking at Qing'er, I think of my own brat. I wonder how he's doing on Longhu Mountain. It's been so long and he hasn't even come back to see his mother and me."

Upon hearing this, Zhuge Gong's eyes lit up immediately, as if he had finally found an outlet for all the gossip he had been holding in.

"Speaking of which, Uncle, you probably don't know, but my younger brother recently did something truly earth-shattering!"

"What serious incident?" Yan Que's heart skipped a beat. His first thought was whether the kid had set the Celestial Master's Mansion on fire. "Did he cause trouble? Did the Old Celestial Master fail to protect him?"

"No way! It's a great opportunity to show off!" Zhuge Gong lowered his voice and said mysteriously, "It's all over the industry! You know about the company's operation to crack down on that evil cult, the Medicine Immortal Society, in Raojiang, right? I heard it was at a stalemate, but as soon as my brother arrived, he took it down, wiping out the whole thing, including the people and their hideout."

Zhuge Gong became more and more excited as he spoke, his gossipy demeanor hardly befitting a remarkable extraordinary person; he was more like an old man cracking melon seeds and spreading rumors at the village entrance: "Everyone outside is saying that an incredible prodigy has emerged from Longhu Mountain, only twelve years old, with extraordinary abilities, even the board of directors, who knows everything, treats him with utmost respect! Uncle, you've truly done a great job raising your son this time!"

Zhuge Qing, who was standing next to him, was stunned. Although he didn't quite understand what the Medicine Immortal Society was, seeing his father's expression, a seed was planted in his heart. So the uncle he had never met and who was a year younger than him was already so powerful?

After hearing this, Yan Que's expression did not show the wild joy that Zhuge Gong had expected.

He was stunned for a moment, then frowned, snorted, and put on a disappointed look.

"Oh dear! This child! He really doesn't know his place! He needs a lot of discipline!"

Yan Que lifted the soy milk in his hand, his voice suddenly rising eight octaves, as if he wanted half the village to hear: "Why rush to the front when you're working with the company? Isn't that stealing their credit? Doesn't the company's regional manager have any pride? He's making them worry about him, so inconsiderate! I'm going to write him a letter later and give him a piece of my mind, tell him to keep a low profile! How did he inherit his mother's show-off nature!"

Zhuge Gong and his son were speechless.

The stench of boasting was so strong that it couldn't even mask the smell of soy milk.

"Snapped!"

A crisp, clear sound suddenly rang out in the alley.

Yan Que was speaking animatedly when he suddenly received a solid blow to the back of the head. The force of the blow was so great that the tea egg he was holding almost flew out of his hand.

"Damn it... my dear wife!"

Just as Yan Que was about to erupt in a tirade, he turned around and his expression instantly changed.

He saw a woman dressed in a long cotton-linen dress standing behind him, carrying a newly bought grocery basket. The murderous hand had not yet been withdrawn.

The woman appeared to be in her thirties, and time seemed to have been exceptionally kind to her, leaving few traces on her face. She wasn't the kind of stunning beauty that would immediately catch the eye, but her features were well-proportioned and dignified, with a scholarly and spirited air about her—the kind of woman who grew on you.

She was Yan Sen's biological mother, Zhuge Gong's "aunt," Zhuge Ning.

"Aunt Ning."

"Grandma".

Zhuge Gong and his son quickly stood at attention and greeted him politely. Even the current clan chief would have to be respectful in front of him.

Zhuge Ning smiled and nodded to her nephew and grandnephew, then turned to her husband with a hint of helplessness: "I usually make breakfast in the morning, and today you were unusually diligent, saying you were going to the morning market. I was just starting to feel relieved, but you haven't come back yet. If you don't come back soon, I'll start to think you've run off with some vixen you knew from your younger days."

She reached out to straighten Yan Que's collar, which had been askew, and said in a low voice, "Also, who just said my son is being irresponsible? Everyone says he doesn't come back to see us. I suppose when you were taking him on the run, you were just as irresponsible as you were, leaving my son hungry, weren't you?"

Yan Que chuckled, instantly shattering his aloof and unfathomable demeanor from the outside world, transforming into a typical "henpecked husband."

"No, no, how could that be! I just ran into my nephew, and I asked Gong about our son. And also..." Yan Que thumped his chest loudly, "My eldest son was with me back then, living like a god! You can write to him and ask him next time! I raised him with plenty! Do you understand what 'raising with plenty' means?"

Zhuge Ning rolled her eyes at Yan Que's unserious behavior. There was nothing she could do; he was the husband she had chosen with a terrible mistake, and she had to spoil him even if it meant enduring tears.

"Stop bragging, I'm embarrassed for you..."

Before Zhuge Ning could finish speaking, a lazy, sarcastic remark suddenly appeared in the air.

"Dad, stop bragging. What kind of immortal eats only two meals every three days? That's called fasting, not living like an immortal."

The voice wasn't loud, carrying the hoarseness characteristic of a teenager going through puberty, yet it clearly penetrated the ears of everyone present.

Most importantly—the sound came from right in the middle of the three of them!

"Who?!"

Zhuge Gong was greatly alarmed, and the hairs on his body stood on end.

As a master of the Zhuge family's Qimen Dunjia (a form of divination), he possesses an extremely keen perception of the surrounding energy field. Within a radius of ten meters, even a mosquito flying in is within his Qimen Dunjia's control.

But now, someone has silently moved to within a meter of them and even spoken, yet his Qimen Dunjia formation has shown no reaction whatsoever!

Zhuge Gong stomped his foot and activated the Xun-character technique—Treading the Wind—retreating several meters away while protecting his son behind him. He stared warily at the open space between Yan Que and Zhuge Ning.

Yan Que and Zhuge Ning were also taken aback.

On the previously deserted bluestone path, the air distorted slightly, as if an invisible film of water had been peeled away.

A boy carrying a worn-out canvas bag and dressed in casual clothes appeared out of thin air, as if he had grown out of the ground.

The boy was about twelve or thirteen years old, already tall enough to reach Zhuge Ning's ear. His skin was tanned to a healthy wheat color, his black hair was messy, and he had that familiar, smug grin on his lips.

"My...son?!"

Yan Que's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets, and the soy milk in his hand fell to the ground with a "plop," splashing all over his trouser leg.

He was the first to react, opening his arms to rush forward: "Oh, my dear son! I've missed you so much!"

However, the boy simply turned slightly to the side, nimbly dodging his father's bear hug, and then walked straight towards the woman who was standing there dumbfounded.

The vegetable basket in Zhuge Ning's hand slipped, and vegetables and potatoes rolled all over the ground.

She looked at the boy before her, a boy who was both familiar and unfamiliar. Years ago, when they parted, he was just a tiny little boy in her arms, but now he was a tall and handsome young man.

Those eyebrows and features were exactly like Yan Que's when he was young, but those clear yet cunning eyes were just like his own.

Yan Sen looked at his mother, and the witty remarks he had prepared all stuck in his throat when he saw the fine crow's feet at the corners of her eyes.

Zhuge Ning took a deep breath, opened her arms, and hugged Yan Sen tightly.

Yan Que had at least been with Yan Sen for three years. Although he was unreliable, they had spent a lot of time together.

However, Zhuge Ning, as the mother, had to endure the pain of separation from her son for the sake of the broken rules of the Yan family and her son's future, and did not see her own flesh and blood for a full nine years.

Nine years.

Yan Sen was held in Zhuge Ning's arms, and he could feel his mother's body trembling violently. That familiar scent, with a faint smell of soap, finally relaxed the nerves that had been stretched for six years because of Yan Que's words, "Your mother is not dead."

"Who's holding me?" Yan Sen buried his head in his mother's neck, his voice muffled. "Is it Ms. Ge Ning, the most beautiful woman in Liutiao Hutong, Beijing?"

Zhuge Ning's tears instantly burst forth. She nodded forcefully, choking back sobs as she couldn't speak: "Mmm..."

Yan Sen hugged her even tighter and continued, "Is it Zhuge Ning, the most beautiful woman in the Zhuge family?"

Zhuge Ning sniffed, tears wetting Yan Sen's shoulder: "Mmm..."

"Is she Zhuge Ning, the slovenly daughter-in-law of Yan Que and the mother of the genius Yan Sen?"

"Yes! Yes!" Zhuge Ning burst into laughter through her tears, crying and laughing at the same time, "You brat... welcome home!"

She remembered how she used to tease Yansen when he was little, saying, "Whose baby are you?" Now, it was her son's turn to tease her in the same way.

Zhuge Gong, who was standing next to him, was dumbfounded.

He hadn't yet recovered from the terrifying "disappearance" he'd just witnessed. How...how did this kid do that? He even managed to fool a Qimen Dunjia divination? Is this his uncle's family's secret technique? To merge with the earth, becoming invisible to all things?

Yan Que stood to the side, watching the mother and son embrace, and felt no jealousy. He picked up the soy milk bag from the ground; although it had a hole in it, it was still drinkable. He slurped up the remaining soy milk, his eyes a little red, but he was still muttering to himself:

"Tch, what an ingrate who forgets his father now that he has his mother... But that 'shrinking the world' technique does have a bit of my style."

Yan Sen released his mother, raised his hand, and carefully wiped the tears from Zhuge Ning's face with his sleeve. He then tucked her wind-blown temples behind her ears.

He took a half step back, stood ramrod straight, and a radiant smile spread across his face as he loudly proclaimed:

"Mom, I'm home."