Ye Mengyao remained unconvinced. Her father's condition had been reported online - this young man might simply have read about it. "Even if you guessed about my father's illness, what does that prove?" Her voice sharpened. "Half of Qingzhou knows he's unwell."
Li Chengfeng smiled faintly. Her wariness was understandable. In this profession of reading fates and balancing energies, trust was currency. For a newcomer like him - young and unknown - skepticism was inevitable. Only after building reputation like his grandfather would doubts fade.
To secure his first client, he adopted a grave tone: "Your mother died in an accident when you were thirteen. At sixteen, you faced a 桃花劫 (peach blossom calamity) where someone nearly..."
"Enough!" Ye Mengyao cut him off, face paling. The kidnapping incident at sixteen - where she'd narrowly escaped violation - remained a closely guarded family secret. Her gaze turned probing. "Can you truly heal my father's eyes?"
"Payment only if cured." He held up two fingers. "Two thousand."
Her brow furrowed. Two thousand yuan? Her family had spent millions over two years without results. Yet this street-corner mystic asked for pocket change? Remembering his lineage, she countered coldly: "If cured, you'll get 100,000. If not, take me to your grandfather."
"Deal." Li Chengfeng's pulse quickened. He'd aimed for chicken feed but struck gold. Tenfold! Though uncertainty lingered - he needed to examine the case - the gamble felt worth it. Failure meant summoning Grandfather; success meant life-changing wealth.
The drive to the Ye estate passed in frosty silence. When the European-style villa loomed into view - five stories framed by manicured gardens - Li Chengfeng gaped openly. Ye Mengyao hid a sneer. *Country bumpkin.*
"Mr. Li." Her tone iced over as they entered the marble foyer. "Remove your shoes. Don't soil the floors."
Humiliation burned his cheeks, but he complied. As he bent to untie laces, a shrill voice echoed downstairs: "Mengyao! Why's there a beggar in our house?"
A woman descended the curved staircase - Ye Wushuang, the younger aunt. Her silk robe whispered against polished steps.
"Aunt, this... feng shui master might help Father."
"Master?" Ye Wushuang's laugh rang cruel. Her eyes raked over Li Chengfeng's faded jeans. "Street trash playing mystic! You probably think 'feng shui' means arranging dollar-store knickknacks!"
Li Chengfeng's fingers froze on his sneakers. The final insult came when Ye Mengyao said "found" instead of "invited". He stood abruptly. "Since I'm unwelcome, this ends here."
Ye Wushuang blocked his exit, jewels glinting. "Think you can waltz in and out of the Ye estate? You..."
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