Time flies, and four hundred years passed in the blink of an eye.
Four hundred years later, on the surface world.
On a summer night in the south, there was not a breath of wind. The air was filled with a medley of odors that permeated the great avenues and the narrow alleys, where rows upon rows of reinforced concrete buildings crowded tightly against one another.
Looking up, not a single ray of light could be seen; only loops and coils of electric wires intertwined, bypassing narrow, impoverished cross-streets and alleyways, as if leading toward unpredictable, dark corners.
Indeed, this was Village Y, the most famous urban village in City G, located on Erheng Road!
Erheng Road in Village Y was a foul and squalid little alley, resembling a giant, light-shunning centipede that wound and coiled, hiding behind the towering buildings of District T!
Xu Ruoping was a college student majoring in medicine, having just graduated.
Between a shop selling cheap ready-made clothes and a roadside food stall, there was a steep flight of stairs leading straight down into a cave-like, pitch-black opening.
The cement steps of this pathway had been worn uneven by the bustling crowds of passersby, and the streetlamp nearby seemed to have a loose connection, its light flickering uncertainly.
Walking with uneven steps on this bumpy, pitted road was truly a grueling test for a young woman who had just stepped into society and learned how to wear stilettos.
The muddy road was crowded with people in a rush, and she glanced at her phone: it was 6:40 PM, right at the peak of the evening rush hour.
Massaging her hands, which were aching from the heavy weight of two bags of fruit, she walked into a newly built residential building with piles of dried, hardened cement mortar scattered around its base.
Reaching the fourth floor, she skillfully felt for the door latch, opened the door, and went inside.
A deep and low-ceilinged room greeted her. The air inside was thick with a dense, brownish haze, and a row of wooden daybeds stood against the wall, serving as both sofas and beds.
Xiaoqian’s husband, Zheng Wenqiang—a sallow, skin-and-bones fellow—was sprawled upon it, puffing away and blowing smoke rings, completely unconcerned that a wife who had just given birth and a newborn infant were breathing in secondhand smoke!
Catching a glimpse of Xu Ruoping out of the corner of his eye, he didn't even bother to lift his eyelids. He merely let out a lazy yawn and squeezed a sentence out from between his teeth: "Oh, you're here. Perfect, the baby's mother wants fish soup!"
Xu Ruoping cursed Zheng Wenqiang millions of times in her heart and desperately wanted to go up and slap him across the face! But remembering that Xiaoqian was in confinement, she had no choice but to swallow this wave of resentment down with her saliva! She let out a grunt, dumped the two bags of fruit heavily onto a patch of space cleared on the wooden daybed, and headed straight into the kitchen to busy herself without saying another word!
Xu Ruoping and Xiaoqian had been college classmates and roommates. Both came from rural families and grew up poor; sharing the same misfortune, they quickly became bosom buddies who talked about everything!
Their personalities were vastly different. Xu Ruoping was flamboyant, outspoken, and daring, which had offended quite a few people in college and failed to win her much favor with the opposite sex!
After graduation, their classmates successively signed contracts with major institutions through various channels, while she was still stuck doing a probationary stint at a hospital.
As for Xiaoqian, she was gentle, refined, and timid, remaining a wallflower throughout her school days. If not for roll call, probably nobody would have even noticed her existence!
During their internship period, because they were placed in different units and busy writing papers and hunting for jobs, they rarely kept in touch. Xu Ruoping only remembered that Xiaoqian had once called her in great excitement to announce she was dating a boyfriend, telling her how wonderfully he treated her, and then the conversation simply ended there.
By the time they graduated and classmates successively found stable jobs, Xu Ruoping received a startling piece of news: Xiaoqian had a baby!
Seeing Xu Ruoping wearing a face as gloomy as a coffin, Zheng Wenqiang thought it best to make himself scarce and found an excuse to slip away.
Accompanied by his shuffling footsteps, the harsh, tuneless whistling of his song echoed through the stairwell as his figure vanished.
The baby was sleeping soundly, with chubby cheeks, slightly upturned red lips, and steady, strong breaths.
Xu Ruoping carried a bowl of fish soup and sat down beside Xiaoqian. Glancing sideways at the baby in the crib, she suddenly noticed a faint dark smudge fleetingly flash across the infant's flat philtrum.
When the philtrum is flat and wide, the child cannot be raised; add to that a dark and murky shade, and misfortune is bound to strike.Xu Ruoping gave a start. The bowl of soup she held in her hands almost spilled onto the baby, but with a narrow and precarious maneuver, she swept it through the air in a graceful arc. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed that Xiaoqian beside her was staring blankly in a trance, completely oblivious to her heart-stopping maneuvers just moments ago.
Xu Ruoping was a freelance cultivator among the common folk, possessing a profound mastery of the Art of Physiognomy.
The Art of Physiognomy was an essential cultural crystallization forged through the painstaking efforts of our ancient ancestors.
Belonging to the culture of numerology—also known as fate-reading or physiognomic science—it encompassed astromancy, facial reading, bone structure analysis, physical form reading, palmistry, and Four Pillars astrology. As a branch of traditional arcane arts, it primarily predicted a person's fortune and misfortune, poverty and wealth, by observing their physical features, demeanor, and conduct.
Ever since she began studying the Art of Physiognomy, Xu Ruoping had experienced several instances where her calculations were infallible and astonishingly accurate. Therefore, she firmly believed that everyone's facial features and the aura they exuded held profound secrets, invisibly shaping their destiny.
Furthermore, verified examples of the Art of Physiognomy were recorded in official historical texts. As described in the *Book of Dai the Elder*: "In the past, Yao selected men by their physical build, Shun by their complexion, Yu by their speech, Tang by their voice, and King Wen by their demeanor. Such was how the rulers of these four generations and five dynasties judged men to understand the world."
From this, it was known that Yao, Shun, Yu, and the founding monarchs of the Xia, Shang, and Zhou dynasties all selected talent through the Art of Physiognomy.
Even in the historically renowned *Master Lü's Spring and Autumn Annals*, there was a chapter titled *Chronicles of the Last Month of Spring: On Men* that depicted the Art of Physiognomy.
One could well imagine the esteemed status of the Art of Physiognomy within metaphysics!
With just that casual, understated glance at Xiaoqian's child, Xu Ruoping had actually discerned that the infant was on the verge of a fatal calamity. If the child failed to survive this ordeal, there would be only one consequence—kicking the bucket and going back home to sell salted duck eggs.
Her heart was filled with boundless shock, yet she could not easily show it on her face. After all, such matters were difficult to explain; if she were careless and botched it, not only would her good intentions be taken for a donkey's lung, but they might not even remain friends in the future.
After turning it over in her mind again and again, she had no choice but to silently stroke the rim of the bowl with her hand, wiping away the overflowing soup.
Barely managing to hand it over, she stammered vaguely, "Oh well, thank goodness the child is still relatively healthy. I'm not trying to scare you, but babies like yours—born from such a hasty pregnancy compounded by premature birth—mostly suffer from congenital heart disease."
Though the words came out of her mouth, her heart felt as stuffed as if it were plugged with a massive clump of cotton, choking her to death.
As a freelance cultivator brought together by fate and circumstance, she had to obey the teachings of her master: all things in the world have cause and effect, and mortal affairs are governed by ghosts and gods; one must not abuse cultivation to arbitrarily tamper with the destinies of mortals.
Yet as a best friend, when her son was in danger and she sat idly by with utter indifference, was she even human?
Xiaoqian snapped back to her senses. Seeing the other woman's gaze wandering as if her soul had traveled beyond the heavens, she was startled for a moment, then smiled faintly: "Look at that sharp tongue of yours, it hasn't changed at all."
One rule and commandment after another flashed through Xu Ruoping's mind like a movie reel. Just as she was torn between stepping in to interfere or pretending to know nothing, Xiaoqian's remark made her realize that her professional reflex had just kicked in, causing her to blurt out the wrong thing.
She had no choice but to shrug and say with an innocent air, "Sorry, my mouth runs too fast. I just say whatever comes to mind, so don't take it to heart, alright."
"Enough of that, Dr. Xu," Xiaoqian said.
She took the fish soup handed over by Xu Ruoping and gulped it down in one breath.
"Careful it's hot! Look how starved you are. I really don't understand how Zheng Wenqiang takes care of you." Xu Ruoping snatched the bowl from Xiaoqian's hand with a start and glared at her. "There's plenty more, I'll go get you another bowl."
"Watch your step, don't wake the little fellow."
"Got it."
Another bowl brimming with crucian carp and papaya soup. As she drank, Xiaoqian wore a knowing smile, a few strands of sweat-dampened hair clinging to her cheeks, making her look utterly haggard.
"I heard your good news is approaching, and you're getting engaged at the end of next month, right?"
Xiaoqian's light eyes shimmered with a lingering, gentle glow, a complex blend of sweetness, sourness, bitterness, and acrimony, making it impossible to tell whether she was happy, sad, or worried.
"I really envy you. No sooner did Chen Kunfeng leave than Xu Jun came back. When a girl is pretty and has a great figure, it really makes a difference. I'm dying for some gossip—I heard Xu Jun was your junior high classmate and also your first love. What kind of touching story is hidden in all this? Tell me about it, how about that?" Xiaoqian asked.