I consulted a feng shui master in Hong Kong.

Chen Qinghe glanced at him: "You were looking for me?"

"Yes." The man quickly cupped his hands in greeting. "My surname is Zhao, and I work for the Ho family in Kowloon City. My master fainted twice last night, and he hasn't woken up properly this day, but the doctors can't find anything seriously wrong. What's even stranger is that we've been hearing the sound of water in the backyard and kitchen for the past two nights, but when we go to check, there's nothing there. My master didn't believe in these things at first, but this morning when the Huo family mentioned your name, he sent me over to ask for help."

Chen Qinghe did not agree immediately, but only glanced at him twice.

Manager Zhao was not young; his temples were already a bit gray, but his forehead was tight, his eyes were dark, and his shoulders were a bit slumped, clearly indicating that he hadn't slept well from last night until today.

More importantly, when he talked about the "backyard," "kitchen," and "the sound of water," his right hand unconsciously pressed down on his sleeve, as if he was suppressing some unease.

This is not simply running errands for the master's family.

He himself was also frightened by the house.

This is only natural; people often feel uneasy when faced with situations that are out of their control.

"What kind of business does the He family do?" Chen Qinghe asked.

Manager Zhao hurriedly replied, "We deal in cloth and southern goods, and in recent years we've also come into contact with shipping."

Chen Qinghe nodded, already having grasped the first level of the situation.

For families who run cloth shops, sell southern goods, or engage in shipping, the houses are most vulnerable to problems with waterways and the flow of energy in the storage areas.

If the strange noises are indeed coming from the backyard and the kitchen, the problem is most likely not with "ghosts," but with the layout of the house itself.

Huang Shou-chou, listening from the side, was itching to shout, "The protagonist is about to make his move!"

But Chen Qinghe simply said, "I'm not going tonight."

Manager Zhao's face immediately turned pale: "Master Chen—"

"It's not that I don't want to go, it's just that I won't be able to see everything even if I go tonight," Chen Qinghe interrupted him. "Go back and prepare three things. First, an old map of the house, even just a rough sketch will do. Second, write down clearly everything that has been done to your house in the last three months: doors, walls, stove, well, and water pipes. Third, come pick me up first thing tomorrow morning."

Zhao Guan was taken aback at first, but then seemed to have suddenly grasped the key to his mind, nodding repeatedly: "Okay, okay, I'll go back and prepare right away."

"And one more thing," Chen Qinghe said, looking at him, "After dark tonight, don't go to the backyard, and don't open the kitchen door. Don't light three lamps by the old man's bedside; leave only one. If anyone hears water running again, don't follow the sound."

Manager Zhao's expression changed, clearly wanting to ask something, but ultimately he didn't dare to ask further and only agreed repeatedly.

After he left, Huang Shou-chou lowered his voice and asked, "Is it really that strange?"

"We'll know tomorrow." Chen Qinghe turned and went inside, putting the compass back on the table. "But if this order is done, we won't have to worry about the wages from the old dye shop."

Huang Shouzhou was immediately invigorated.

"Then I'll go with you tomorrow?"

"You'll guard Fu'an Lane." Chen Qinghe glanced at him. "The workers from the old dyehouse will be coming tomorrow, and the people we hired today should be in place by now. Keep an eye on both sides and make sure things don't get chaotic."

Huang Shouzhou was initially a little disappointed, but after thinking about it, he realized it made sense and had no choice but to nod honestly.

At night, the courtyard in Fu'an Lane quieted down again.

There was a door-guarding talisman pasted behind the door, and another talisman pressed under the incense table. Huang Shouzhou also had the two yellow talismans given to him by Chen Qinghe in his bosom, and he walked more steadily than usual.

Chen Qinghe sat under the lamp, rewriting the three main locations decided on by the old dyehouse today onto paper, and wrote down the words "He Residence, Shuixiang, Backyard, Kitchen" next to them.

On one side of the table is a picture of the re-establishment of the Sanxuan Temple.

On the other hand, a new opportunity has been offered to us.

He raised his head, glanced at the night outside, his expression calm yet increasingly resolute.

A meditation hall can be erected not only by relying on incense offerings.

We still need to rely on a series of initiatives to truly establish this brand.

And tomorrow's trip will most likely be the first big job for the Sanxuan Temple to regain its momentum after the old dyeing workshop was secured.

The next day, before dawn, Steward Zhao arrived.

He didn't come empty-handed this time; he had a roll of paper tucked under his arm and an old leather bag in his hand. The dark circles under his eyes were heavier than yesterday. Clearly, things hadn't calmed down at the He residence that night.

At the entrance of Fu'an Lane, Huang Shouzhou was squatting down drinking porridge, with two newly recruited young men standing beside him. One was named A Xing, who was quick on his feet and sharp-eyed; the other was named Shunzai, who was younger and thin, but very diligent, having swept the entrance clean early in the morning.

When Chen Qinghe came out, Huang Shouzhou quickly put down his bowl.

"Carpenter Deng has already arrived at the old dyehouse. I'll go over and keep an eye on things in a bit. You can go ahead without worry. There are people watching over things in Fu'an, so things won't get chaotic at the old dyehouse."

Chen Qinghe nodded, put the compass and several blank yellow papers into his cloth bag, and glanced at Ah Xing and Shunzai before leaving.

"Over here in Fu'an Lane, everyone who comes must be registered by name first, and no one is allowed to respond randomly. Over at the old dyehouse, anyone who moves the center line without permission will have their name recorded by Huang Shou-zhou, and their wages will be deducted."

Ah Xing and Shunzi nodded quickly.

Manager Zhao listened from the side, and his heart trembled inwardly.

This Mr. Chen is young, but he speaks quite loudly, especially when he mentions the word "center line." His tone is very calm, yet it makes people afraid to do anything rash.

Once outside Fu'an Lane, Steward Zhao immediately handed over the roll of paper he was carrying.

"This is a sketch of the house, drawn last night based on the old design. And this is a record of all the places that have been moved in the house and the people we've invited in the last three months; I've written them all down."

Chen Qinghe walked and looked around.

The Ho residence is not a large mansion, but it is not an ordinary small house either.

It had two courtyards, with a storage yard on the left and living quarters on the right. There was a central courtyard, and the back courtyard connected to the kitchen and storage room. The sketch was rough, but it was sufficient.

Then look at the notepad; there are a few lines written on it.

Two months ago, an old well in the backyard was sealed off.

A month and a half ago, the kitchen stove was moved.

About two weeks ago, a new water pipe was added to the outer wall of the east wing, supposedly to connect to the water tank at the back of the house.

At the very bottom, there was a name written on it.

"Introduced by the foreman surnamed Liang at Yongchang Construction."

Chen Qinghe paused slightly.

When Manager Zhao saw him stop, his heart tightened immediately: "Master Chen, is something wrong?"

"Who hired this foreman surnamed Liang?"

"Our master didn't find them himself," Manager Zhao quickly said. "It was a shopkeeper who said he knew the ropes and introduced us. He said Yongchang was very famous for its old house renovations, quick and efficient, and the prices weren't high, so we used them."

Chen Qinghe folded the paper, put it in his sleeve, and didn't ask any further questions.

But he already knew what was going on.

It's Yongchang again.

It seems this line of work not only harms people's homes and cuts off their livelihoods, but sometimes even interferes with ordinary repair businesses. The problem isn't whether they do any work or not, but that the places they touch are often not random.

By the time we arrived in Kowloon, it was already bright daylight.

The He residence is located on a side street. The facade is not ostentatious, with blue bricks and gray walls. A truck is parked outside the door, and several boxes of freshly unloaded goods are piled up next to it.

It's clear that this business is very diligent; it's not just some empty shell that only puts on a show.

But as soon as Chen Qinghe reached the door, his brows furrowed slightly.

There were clearly people coming and going inside the gate, but the house lacked any sense of prosperity.

On the contrary, the air that entered from the front door seemed to be broken in half by something, scattering into fragments.

He didn't rush inside; he stood outside and first looked at the eaves, the threshold, and the way he came into the courtyard.

When Manager Zhao saw that he didn't move, he even softened his breathing.