When dawn broke through the clouds, Chen Yao was slumped over his apartment desk, in a shallow sleep.
He had a brief dream. He stood on a sea of black oil, the water viscous, waveless. Under his feet was a small plank of wood, its edges slowly dissolving. He looked down and saw countless blurred faces floating and sinking beneath the surface, mouths opening and closing, emitting silent whispers.
His phone vibrating pulled him back to reality. It was Mr. Zhou.
"Mr. Chen!" Zhou Zhenghua's voice held a bit more vitality than the day before. "The workers all came back this morning, saying the site... feels different. It's quiet. The feverish coworker is also out of the hospital, said it was just a common cold, he's fine now!"
Chen Yao straightened up, rubbing his throbbing temples. Outside, the sky was fully bright, morning light streaming through the blinds, casting parallel bands on the desk.
"What about the northeast corner?" he asked, voice raspy.
"I went to check myself. The area around the septic tank is clean, no leaks. The night shift security guard said it was quiet all night, no strange sounds." Zhou Zhenghua paused. "Mr. Chen, last night... did you do something?"
Chen Yao looked at his right hand. The palm was empty, skin lines clear, nothing unusual. But the bone-deep chill seemed to linger in his muscle memory.
"Just a temporary stabilization," he said. "The root problem isn't solved; it could flare up anytime."
"Then... could we ask you to handle it formally?" Zhou Zhenghua asked carefully. "Following Mr. Chen's methods, whatever you need, just say the word."
Chen Yao fell silent. Last night's attempt was rushed, instinctual. "Formal handling" meant he must truly understand the methods his grandfather left behind and follow the steps.
That would no longer be an emergency stopgap, but inheritance.
"Let me think," he said. "I'll give you an answer this afternoon."
After hanging up, Chen Yao got up and showered. As hot water washed over him, he felt a sense of depletion—not fatigue, but more like an energy overdraft. His face in the bathroom mirror looked pale, faint dark circles under his eyes.
Breakfast was black coffee and toast, eaten tastelessly. Afterwards, he opened his grandfather's annotation booklet again, looking for detailed records on handling "sedimentation pools."
His grandfather's handwriting was neat and restrained:
"When handling a sedimentation pool, prioritize 'purification' over 'expulsion.' Its essence is accumulated information (resentment, sickness, death), not a physical entity. It cannot be killed or eliminated, only guided, transformed, or diluted."
"Step One: Choose an auspicious day. Must select a day marked by 'Chu' (除, Remove), 'Ding' (定, Stabilize), 'Kai' (开, Open), or 'Cheng' (成, Complete); avoid 'Po' (破, Break) and 'Bi' (闭, Close) days. For the hour, choose either the Wu hour (午时, 11 am-1 pm, Yang energy strongest) or the Zi hour (子时, 11 pm-1 am, Yin energy strongest), depending on the nature of the sediment. Heavy resentment/baleful energy: use Wu hour. Heavy sickness energy: use Zi hour."
"Step Two: Purify the site. Grind cinnabar, realgar, mugwort, and calamus into a fine powder, mix, and sprinkle at the four corners and center of the plot. This is not exorcism, but 'marking'—setting coordinates for subsequent guidance."
"Step Three: Set up the array. Bury 'Qi-guiding stakes' according to the Four Symbols directions. Stakes material: peach wood (East, Azure Dragon), locust wood (West, White Tiger), willow wood (North, Black Tortoise), date wood (South, Vermilion Bird). Length: three chi three cun (approx. 3.3 ft). Thickness: three cun. Carve the corresponding constellation symbol on top. Bury seven copper coins (number of the Big Dipper) at the base."
"Step Four: Guidance. After the array is set, the practitioner must stand in the center, using themselves as the pivot, guiding the sediment energy to slowly leak out along the array paths. This step is most dangerous, as the practitioner will directly face the flow of sediment information, requiring a firm mind, unperturbed. Duration depends on sediment scale: short as one incense stick, long as three days and nights."
"Step Five: Aftercare. After dissipation, burn incense to worship the earth, appease the past. Dig up the guiding stakes, wash them in clean running water, sun-dry for three days before reuse. The plot must lie fallow for three months, allowing earth energy to recover naturally."
Chen Yao read word by word, heart growing heavy. The complexity of this procedure far exceeded his imagination, and each step had strict requirements. The "use oneself as the pivot" step was similar to his rushed attempt last night but more systematic and more dangerous.
He continued flipping, finding his grandfather's specific record of handling a similar case.
"Bingxu Year (2006) Winter, accepted the Qian residence murder case. The site was an old execution ground from Ming-Qing times... Procedure: Chose Wuzi day, Wu hour (Yang breaks Yin). For purification, increased realgar dosage (antidote). For the array, used iron stakes (stronger suppression). However, during guidance, saw visions of bloodshed, heard wails, mind nearly broke. Forcibly stabilized, took two days and nights. Fell ill for half a month afterwards, coughed blood. Note: Such extremely inauspicious sites should not be accepted unless absolutely necessary."
Chen Yao stared at the words "coughed blood." That was the price. His grandfather paid with half a month's illness for the land's purification.
So, what would the price be for Mr. Zhou's site?
He needed more information. About the site itself, what exactly his grandfather did three years ago.
Chen Yao messaged Mr. Zhou, requesting the site's detailed floor plan, a summary of the tomb's archaeological report, and—if possible—any records left by his grandfather from three years ago.
While waiting for a reply, he opened his computer, searching for modern research on "sedimentation pools." Unsurprisingly, academic literature didn't have the term. But there was some fringe research on "place memory," "environmental trauma psychology," discussing why certain locations persistently cause psychological or physiological discomfort in inhabitants. One paper cited French sociologist Mauss's A General Theory of Magic, suggesting that "abnormalities" in some places might be a projection and solidification of collective psychology.
But this didn't explain the knocking sounds and seeping dark red liquid. Unless those were also collective psychological hallucinations—and Chen Yao didn't believe last night's experience was hallucination.
At 2 p.m., Mr. Zhou's materials arrived.
The floor plan was clearly marked: the entire plot was an irregular rectangle, the tomb slightly southwest of center. The Four Symbols bronze boxes' burial spots were circled in red, exactly at the four corners. The northeast corner marked the septic tank location.
The archaeological report summary indicated the tomb was a mid-Ming dynasty family tomb of a fifth-rank official, well-preserved, no signs of looting. The tomb occupant's life was clean, no major merits or faults. Strangely, the epitaph ended with an abrupt line: "This place has much violence. I use my body as the anchor, hoping later generations will not disturb it."
"I use my body as the anchor." I use my own body as a suppressing object.
Chen Yao's heart tightened. What did this mean? The tomb occupant knew he was buried on inauspicious ground, so deliberately used the tomb to suppress it?
He read on. The report mentioned that about three meters below the tomb chamber, there was an "anomalous geological structure," suspected to be remains of an earlier man-made structure, but due to protecting the tomb, no further excavation was done.
Earlier remains. Earlier than Ming.
Mr. Zhou added a note: "The archaeology team said back then the underground remains might be from Song-Yuan, or even earlier. Since it didn't affect construction, they didn't investigate further."
Chen Yao leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes. An image formed in his mind: During the Song-Yuan or even earlier, something happened on this land, forming the initial "sediment." The Ming official discovered the anomaly, built his family tomb on top, attempting to "use my body as the anchor." Centuries later, the tomb was excavated, the seal loosened. His grandfather used the Four Symbols Seal to temporarily stabilize it. Three years later, the septic tank accidentally broke the balance.
Layer upon layer, like geological strata.
So, what needed handling wasn't a single-period "sediment," but multi-layered accumulation.
The difficulty increased exponentially.
His phone vibrated again. Mr. Zhou sent a photo, a page from an old notebook. The handwriting was his grandfather's:
"Gengzi Year (2020) 3rd Month, 7th Day, accepted Mr. Zhou's construction site case. Site has Ming tomb; beneath tomb are ancient ruins. Sediment deep, especially 'sickness energy' and 'stagnant resentment.' Used Four Symbols Seal method, set for five years, to slowly release. Bronze boxes contain Qi-guiding powder (sandalwood ash, chensha, realgar, mica). Seal-array coins: Kangxi Tongbao (circulated 300 years, sufficient human energy). Instruction: Within five years, do not disturb earth, especially avoid northeast."
The next page also had writing:
"Client Zhou's Eight Characters: Jiayin, Dingmao, Gengshen, Renwu. Fate carries '驿马' (traveling horse) and '劫煞' (robbery star), indicates奔波劳碌 (toiling),易惹是非 (prone to trouble). However, wealth star is prominent, indicates横财运 (windfall luck). If this succeeds, his wealth will increase further, but..."
The following characters were blurred by a water stain, unreadable.
Chen Yao zoomed in, trying to decipher. At the edge of the stain, a few characters were faintly visible: "but...Substi...Already Received..."
Already received.
This term again. Beside Mr. Zhou's Eight Characters in the annotation booklet.
Chen Yao felt a chill. His grandfather had foreseen three years ago that handling this site would increase Mr. Zhou's wealth, but the price was..."already received." Received what? Whose price?
He recalled the paired records in the annotation booklet: helping A, B suffers. That was "transfer."
Was Mr. Zhou's "increased wealth" built upon some unknown person's loss? And that loss was "already received" three years ago?
Chen Yao stood up, pacing the room. Sunlight slanted in from the west window, casting his shadow on the wall. He felt at a crossroads: left, complete refusal, return to normal life; right, deep involvement, uncover layer upon layer of truth, possibly also uncover his family's dark side.
Was there a third path?
His phone rang again. This time, Mr. Zhou calling directly.
"Mr. Chen," his voice earnest, "the workers all say the site feels especially 'refreshed' today, work has energy. I know this is temporary, but... could we ask you to perform a formal handling? Name your fee, as long as it's completely resolved."
Chen Yao gripped his phone. He recalled the chill under his palm last night, the whispers, the feverish worker's face.
And the cold records in his grandfather's annotation booklet, the glaring words "already received."
"Mr. Zhou," he spoke slowly, "I can try. But a few things must be clear."
"Please!"
"First, I can't guarantee a complete solution. I can only try based on the methods my grandfather left, but the effect, I don't know."
"I understand."
"Second, the process may require your cooperation, including temporary work stoppage, preparing specific items."
"No problem, give me a list."
"Third," Chen Yao paused, "after it's done, regardless of the result, you must tell me what else my grandfather said or did three years ago. Especially about the 'price.'"
Silence on the other end.
"Mr. Zhou?"
"...Alright." Zhou Zhenghua's voice lowered. "I promise."
After hanging up, Chen Yao walked to the window. The city looked bright and clear under the afternoon sun, traffic flowing, pedestrians hurrying. Everything so normal.
And he was about to step into that abnormal world, layered with causality.
He returned to his desk, starting a list. According to his grandfather's records, he needed:
Peach wood, locust wood, willow wood, date wood, one piece each. Length: three chi three cun. Thickness: three cun.
Cinnabar, realgar, mugwort, calamus, ground into powder.
One new writing brush, a stack of yellow paper.
Forty-nine copper coins, preferably from the Qing dynasty.
Incense burner, incense sticks.
Three clean porcelain bowls, clean water.
These were tangible items. Then intangible: choosing an auspicious day, timing.
Chen Yao opened the Xie Ji Bian Fang Shu (a traditional almanac), cross-referencing with a perpetual calendar on his phone. Today was the ninth day of the tenth lunar month, Yiwei day, presiding deity "Tian De" (Heavenly Virtue), suitable for祭祀 (sacrifice),祈福 (praying for blessings),忌动土 (avoid ground-breaking),安葬 (avoid burial). Not ideal.
Flipping ahead, three days later was Wuxu day, presiding deity "Jin Kui" (Golden Cabinet), suitable for修造 (construction),动土 (ground-breaking),安葬 (burial). Wuxu matched his own Day Pillar; perhaps it would enhance resonance.
The hour? Wu hour (11 am-1 pm) had the strongest Yang energy, suitable for suppressing resentment. But the site's sediment was primarily "sickness energy"; according to his grandfather, heavy sickness energy uses Zi hour (11 pm-1 am). Zi hour had the strongest Yin energy, easier to guide Yin-natured sediment.
He hesitated. Which to use?
Finally, he decided: Wu hour. Not because he was certain resentment was heavier, but because—he dared not stay on the site that late at night. Last night's experience was enough.
After finalizing the list and date, he sent it to Mr. Zhou, who replied quickly: "Items will be ready within three days, timing as you set. I'll keep the site closed these three days."
Three days. Chen Yao looked at the circled date on the calendar. He had seventy-two hours to prepare, to step into a domain he both yearned for and feared.
During these three days, he did several things.
First, he systematically reread all his grandfather's records on the Four Symbols Seal, site purification, and guidance, taking notes, highlighting key steps and precautions.
Second, he went to the old mansion to fetch a few items: the compass his grandfather used, a peach wood sword (more like a ruler), and several ancient texts on talismans and arrays.
Third, he practiced "guidance." Not actually setting up an array, but sitting in meditation, imagining himself at the center of an energy field, trying to sense and guide imagined energy flows. It was difficult; his attention wandered, thoughts drifting to work, rent, mundane daily life.
But occasionally, in deep stillness, he could feel a faint sense of "flow"—not physical wind, but something more subtle, like air convection from temperature difference, yet different. It seemed slightly influenced by his faint intention.
Fourth, and most important, he divined again.
This time his question was specific: "What will be the result of the handling three days from now?"
The coins fell, the hexagram appeared: Upper Gen ☶ (Mountain) over lower Kan ☵ (Water): Meng (蒙, Enveloping/Immaturity).
Hexagram Meng. The Judgment says: "Enveloping. Success. It is not I who seek the young fool; the young fool seeks me. At the first divination I inform him. If he asks two or three times, it is importunity. If he importunes, I do not inform him. Perseverance furthers." The Image says: "A spring flows at the foot of the mountain: the image of Enveloping. Thus the superior man fosters his character by thoroughness in all that he does."
Immaturity, enlightenment, requiring teaching and guidance.
Chen Yao stared at the hexagram. It seemed neutral, neither auspicious nor inauspicious, just indicating he was still in the "immature" stage, needing to learn, needing guidance. But who was the "young fool"? Him? Or Mr. Zhou? Who seeks whom?
He recalled the Judgment's "It is not I who seek the young fool; the young fool seeks me"—not him seeking the ignorant, but the ignorant seeking him. This matched Mr. Zhou seeking him.
But "If he asks two or three times, it is importunity. If he importunes, I do not inform him" sounded like a warning: the first inquiry gets an answer; repeatedly asking is disrespectful, and no more answers will be given.
Chen Yao put away the coins. He understood: the hexagram had given enough information (immaturity, need for guidance). Further divination was superfluous. He needed to prepare, study, and gain understanding through practice.
Three days passed quickly.
On the fourth day morning, Chen Yao arrived at the site with his backpack. Mr. Zhou was already waiting, tense but full of anticipation. The site was empty, materials neatly stacked, ground swept clean.
"Everything is prepared, as per your list," Zhou Zhenghua led him to the prefab office. "Please check."
Chen Yao checked item by item. The peach wood had clear grain, faint woody scent; locust wood dense; willow wood flexible; date wood hard. The four wooden stakes were cut to size, surfaces smooth. The cinnabar, realgar, and other herbs were finely ground, stored in porcelain jars. The coins were Qianlong Tongbao, decent condition.
"Good." Chen Yao nodded. "Mr. Zhou, please leave now. The process starts at the Wu hour (11 am), will take about two hours. No disturbances."
"I understand." Zhou Zhenghua hesitated. "Mr. Chen... be careful."
"Mm."
Mr. Zhou left. Chen Yao was alone in the prefab room, looking at the wall clock: 10:40 a.m.
He had twenty minutes.
First, he purified his hands, washing three times with clean water. Then he took out yellow paper and cinnabar, starting to draw talismans. This time, not house-pacifying talismans, but Four Directions Sealing Talismans—Azure Dragon, White Tiger, Vermilion Bird, Black Tortoise, one each. His grandfather's notes had diagrams; he had copied them many times, could draw them passably.
The cinnabar flowed on the yellow paper, each stroke heavy. After drawing four, sweat beaded on his forehead. Not from exhaustion, but from intense mental concentration.
10:55 a.m. He packed his things and walked out.
The Wu hour sun shone directly down, the site bright, shadows sharp and clear. Following his grandfather's recorded steps, Chen Yao started with site purification.
Holding the mixed herbal powder, he started from the center of the site, walking clockwise, sprinkling powder evenly. The powder fell, forming a broken white line. The air filled with a complex medicinal smell—realgar's sulfur, mugwort's bitterness, calamus's freshness.
After a full circle, he piled a small mound of powder at each corner as markers.
Next, setting up the array.
He started at the southeast corner, the Azure Dragon position. He dug a one-foot-deep hole, placed the peach wood stake vertically, carved Azure Dragon constellation symbol facing the center. At the bottom, placed seven coins arranged in the Big Dipper pattern. Filled soil, compacted.
Then southwest corner (White Tiger position, locust wood stake), northwest corner (Black Tortoise position, willow wood stake), northeast corner (Vermilion Bird position, date wood stake). Each stake buried similarly, only orientation and coin arrangement slightly different.
Burying the date wood stake at the northeast corner, Chen Yao glanced at the septic tank. The concrete lid was quiet, no leaks, no sounds. The talisman he pasted was still there but faded and wrinkled.
Finally, he returned to the center, where he had previously drawn a three-foot diameter circle with lime.
11:30 a.m. Array complete.
Chen Yao stood in the circle's center, taking a deep breath. He could feel that after burying the stakes, the site's "atmosphere" changed. Not some mystical feeling, but tangible—the wind stopped. There had been a breeze earlier; now none. The sun still bright, but the medicinal smell in the air seemed frozen, no longer dispersing.
He closed his eyes, beginning guidance.
According to his grandfather's method, he needed to imagine himself as a hub, the four wooden stakes as four endpoints, connected by invisible lines. He needed to use intention to "push" the negative information sedimented in this land, letting it flow along these lines, gathering from the center toward him, then through him dispersing upward into the sky.
He tried.
At first, nothing. Only his heartbeat, his breathing. Sun warm on his back.
Then, gradually, he began to feel "resistance." Not physical, but a psychological heaviness, like walking in deep water. Simultaneously, fragmented images flashed at the edge of his mind: blurred figures, dim rooms, pained moans... Faint, like through frosted glass.
He knew this was the "sediment" information being stirred.
He steadied his mind, continuing to imagine "pushing." The images grew clearer: he saw an ancient-dressed person lying on the ground, an arrow in the chest; saw many people crowded in a narrow space, coughing, feverish; saw an official in robes sighing over a map, then writing "I use my body as the anchor"...
These images weren't continuous, but jumping, mixed, from different eras. But they shared a commonality: suffering.
Chen Yao felt chest tightness, breathing difficult. Sweat dripped from his temples into his eyes, stinging. But he dared not move, dared not open his eyes, could only maintain that "pushing" intention.
Time blurred. Maybe ten minutes passed, maybe half an hour. He felt like a pump, extracting sewage from deep underground. The sewage passed through his body, turning into invisible vapor, rising skyward.
Then, he heard sounds.
Not last night's whispers, but clearer sentences with emotion:
"...cold..."
"...hungry..."
"...why did this happen to us..."
"...can't escape..."
Voices overlapped, interwove, like a chorus, or an argument. They came from all directions, yet also from his own mind.
Chen Yao clenched his teeth. His grandfather's warning echoed: "Requires a firm mind, unperturbed." He couldn't respond, couldn't think about the content, could only continue his task—guide, disperse.
But his body began to tremble. Not from fear, but overload trembling, like an appliance with unstable voltage. A chill rose from his feet, up his spine; muscles stiffened along the way.
He opened his eyes—had to confirm his surroundings.
The sight before him made him pause.
Above the site, about ten meters high, appeared a faint, grayish-white mist. Not cloud, not smoke, just a blurred, slowly rotating mist. It was almost invisible in sunlight, but definitely there.
From the four stakes' directions, extremely fine, almost transparent streams of energy rose, like heat haze distorting air, converging toward the center, then upward into the mist.
It was working. The array was operating.
But Chen Yao also saw that the stream from the northeast date wood stake was slightly darker than the other three, with a faint reddish tint. And it was unstable, intermittent.
The Vermilion Bird box damage's effect remained.
Chen Yao closed his eyes again, focusing more attention on the northeast. He imagined extending an invisible "arm," connecting to that date wood stake, helping stabilize its output.
This action immediately triggered a reaction.
The voices in his mind suddenly amplified, becoming screams:
"—let me out—"
"—it hurts—"
"—why me—"
"—you can't escape either—!"
Simultaneously, the chill erupted. It no longer crept but instantly flooded his entire body. Chen Yao felt his blood freezing, teeth chattering uncontrollably. Vision began to darken, ears ringing.
He was about to lose hold.
But at that moment, he remembered a line from his grandfather's annotations: "Guidance is not confrontation, but顺应 (following). Like water guiding water, wind guiding wind."
Confrontation? Following?
He had been "pushing," "extracting"—a form of confrontation. Maybe that was wrong.
Chen Yao changed strategy. He no longer imagined "pushing," but "inviting"—inviting these sedimented information to leave this land, go where they should. Not forcing, but opening a door, letting them leave voluntarily.
This shift brought a remarkable change.
The screams in his mind weakened, becoming sobs, then sighs. The chill no longer tried to freeze him but flowed through him like water, then left. His body slowly relaxed from stiffness.
The gray-white mist above spun faster, but grew fainter, turning from gray-white to transparent. The four streams also stabilized, colors evening out.
Time continued to pass.
When Chen Yao felt completely light, the overload sensation gone, he opened his eyes.
The mist above had vanished. Sunlight shone unimpeded. The four wooden stakes stood quietly, showing no anomaly.
He checked his watch: 12:40 p.m.
The whole process lasted one hour and ten minutes.
Chen Yao staggered a step, leaving the lime circle. His legs were so weak he could barely stand. Holding onto a nearby scaffold pipe, he breathed heavily. Sweat soaked his shirt, sticking coldly to his back.
But he could feel—the site was different.
Not a visual change, but an overall "lightness." The sweet, fishy smell was completely gone; even the medicinal smell was dissipating quickly. The wind blowing felt normal, carrying the site's dust and wood scent.
Had it succeeded?
Chen Yao wasn't sure. He walked to the septic tank. The concrete lid was dry, no stains, no cracks.
He walked to the four corners, checking the stakes. Each stood firm, surrounding soil normal.
Finally, he returned to the prefab room and called Mr. Zhou.
"You can come back," he said, voice weary. "Have people... resume work normally."
"Mr. Chen, are you alright?" Zhou Zhenghua heard his weakness.
"Fine. Just tired."
Half an hour later, Mr. Zhou returned with several foremen. They looked around, faces showing surprise.
"Boss, it really is... much fresher."
"The air feels different."
"Mr. Chen is amazing."
Zhou Zhenghua walked to Chen Yao, bowing deeply. "Mr. Chen, words cannot express my gratitude. The fee, I'll transfer immediately—"
"Not yet." Chen Yao interrupted. "Mr. Zhou, what you promised me."
Zhou Zhenghua's expression turned serious. "Ask."
"Three years ago, after my grandfather handled it, did he say anything special? About the 'price'?"
Zhou Zhenghua recalled. "Mr. Chen was very tired then, didn't say much. Just one sentence: 'The causality here has shifted; I'll ensure your safety for three years. But...'"
"But what?"
"He sighed and said, 'Someone will suffer.' I asked who, he shook his head, didn't say." Zhou Zhenghua lowered his voice. "Later, I quietly inquired. Heard... an old traditional doctor in the west of the city, shortly after Mr. Chen handled my site, suddenly had a stroke, became paralyzed. I knew that doctor, skilled, a good man."
Chen Yao's heart sank. "Do you know his Eight Characters?"
"No. But I know he was surnamed Wu, around sixty-five, lived in Willow Lane."
Chen Yao nodded. "Enough."
He packed to leave. Mr. Zhou insisted on seeing him off but was refused.
Walking out the site gate, Chen Yao looked back. Workers had started; machinery sounds rose, everything as usual.
But he knew this unusual "normality" was bought with an old stranger's paralysis.
This was "already received."
Back at his apartment, Chen Yao's first act was to open the annotation booklet, find the page with Mr. Zhou's Eight Characters. In the blank margin, he wrote: "Gengzi Year, 3rd Month, 7th Day, Mr. Zhou's site case. Procedure: Four Symbols Seal. Substitution: Dr. Wu (surname Wu), stroke, paralysis."
After writing, he stared at the words, unmoving.
Outside, city lights began to glow. Night was gentle.
And for the first time, Chen Yao truly touched the cold, heavy core of Shouyizhai's "family profession."
The price was always there. Just a matter of who paid.
Glossary for Chapter Six
Auspicious Day Selection (择吉日): A fundamental practice in traditional Chinese cosmology for important actions. Days are classified based on the Heavenly Stems and Earthly Branches, the "Twelve Jian Chu" (建除十二神) system, and other astrological factors into auspicious (宜) and inauspicious (忌) categories for specific activities. "Chu" (除), "Ding" (定), "Kai" (开), "Cheng" (成) are generally considered favorable; "Po" (破) and "Bi" (闭) are unfavorable.
Wu Hour (午时) & Zi Hour (子时): The two pivotal times in the 12 two-hour periods of the day. Wu hour (11 am-1 pm) is when Yang (active, bright) energy peaks. Zi hour (11 pm-1 am) is when Yin (passive, dark) energy peaks. Choosing the time aligns the ritual's nature with the prevailing cosmic energy.
Site Purification (净宅): The preparatory step of cleansing a location of negative or stagnant energies before performing a major ritual or adjustment. It often involves sprinkling specific powdered herbs and minerals (like cinnabar, realgar, mugwort, calamus) to mark the boundaries and prepare the energetic "canvas."
Qi-guiding Stakes (引气桩): Physical markers (here, specific types of wood) placed at key points (often the four directions) to anchor and direct the flow of energy (Qi) during a Feng Shui ritual or array setup. The choice of wood corresponds to the Five Elements and symbolic animals of the directions.
Guidance (导引): The core active phase of the ritual where the practitioner uses their own mind and body as a conduit or focal point to actively manipulate the flow of energy—in this case, to draw out and disperse the stagnant negative energy from the "sedimentation pool."
Big Dipper Number (北斗之数): The number seven is sacred in Taoism and Chinese metaphysics, heavily associated with the Big Dipper (北斗七星). Using seven coins invokes the power and symbolism of this constellation for protection and structural stability in the array.
Aftercare (善后): The crucial concluding steps after a major energetic intervention. It involves respectful closure (like incense offerings), proper disposal or cleansing of ritual tools to prevent residual energy attachment, and allowing time for the location's natural energy to rebalance and recover.
Substitution (代偿) / Already Received (已收): These terms are now explicitly linked. "Already Received" refers to the price that has been predetermined and accounted for in the causal transaction. "Substitution" is the mechanism—the practitioner (Chen Yao's grandfather) or an unwitting third party (Dr. Wu) ends up bearing the negative consequences ("substituting" for) the benefit granted to the client. This is the dark ethical core of the "transactional" model of Shouyizhai's traditional practice that Chen Yao is confronting.