In China, wherever you go—tourist spots, scenic wonders, famous mountains and rivers—there’s always a fortune-teller lurking around. Especially twenty-something years ago, when intellectuals were all about materialism, but honestly, way more people believed in fate and ghosts than they do now.
So if, back then, you were trekking through the wilderness and suddenly a half-immortal jumped out, pointed his sword and yelled, “Hey there, good sir! I see you’re stepping on the Grand Duke and doomed to peach blossom trouble, blah blah blah,” don’t be surprised—it happened all the time. And get this, loads of old folks would actually freak out and beg the so-called sage for a reading.
John Yang and Susan Morrow—a legit university-educated couple. As modern intellectuals, not only did they not believe, they’d even figured out the fortune-tellers’ playbook. Usually, these sages run two scams: one, butter you up with sweet talk till you’re so happy you hand over your cash; two, scare you silly with doom and gloom so you pay up to dodge disaster.
Oh, and by the way, back then intellectuals and fortune-tellers totally looked down on each other. Their beef was kinda like the rivalry between nerdy guys and yaoi fangirls, or AV versus GV.
So, seeing this Taoist priest, John Yang was ready to start roasting him.
He sized him up—an old, shabby Taoist robe, grimy face, wild hair and beard, and a fake-looking wine gourd hanging from his belt. Dude, it’s the dead of winter! You want some ice-cold beer or what? TV just aired Journey to the West, and if you can’t pull off Lord Laozi, at least try for Venus Star Lord! But no, you look more like the Black Bear Demon’s little brother—way more monster than priest. And instead of chilling at the popular Jade Emperor Peak, you’re here at the deserted Moon View Summit, clearly just a loser chased off by your peers.
Alright, info gathered—time to unleash the smack talk! Prepare to face the wrath of materialism, you fraud!
Ahem, John Yang cleared his throat, just about to speak, when Susan Morrow stopped him.
“Master, you seemed rather excited just now—was it because of the child in my belly?” Susan Morrow stepped forward, half smiling, speaking in that old-school Journey to the West style: “So, Master, is it good or bad? If it’s good, go ahead and tell me; I’ll listen for luck. If it’s bad, best keep it to yourself—no need to spoil the mood.”
“Good? Bad?” The Taoist priest paused, then burst out laughing, nearly out of breath: “Madam, do you really think I’m just some street-corner half-immortal hustling for cash?”
"Oh?" Susan Morrow raised an eyebrow. "Aren’t you, Master?"
The Taoist priest smiled proudly. "Of course not."
"Can you predict people’s luck, future, and marriage?"
"I can."
"Can you read characters, analyze faces, and tell fates?"
"I can."
"Can you help people spend money to avoid disaster and stay safe?"
"Uh... yeah, I can do that too."
"Then how can you say you’re not a sage? You tick all the boxes!" Susan Morrow snapped, dropping the ancient-sounding talk and waving her hand like a queen. "Alright, enough with the act—we all know what’s up. I’m pregnant and just want to hear something nice. You, make it up and say something to cheer me up. If you do a good job, I’ll tip you, and you’ll have your first customer of the day. Deal?"
The Taoist priest scratched his head helplessly. "Alright then, but the child in your belly is unusual—I’ll need to do a reading first." With that, he rummaged around in his robe, muttering for a while, then threw a bunch of random stuff on the ground. No one knew how he managed to carry so much junk.
The Taoist stroked his beard, gazing at the sky and ground for ages, counting on his fingers until they nearly snapped, all while wearing a constipated look. Suddenly, his face relaxed, like he’d finally fixed his prostate. To the couple, the priest’s performance was actually pretty convincing.
He wiped his fake sweat with his sleeve. "Got it!" The priest slapped his thigh like a storyteller, eyes wide, and began: "This twin pregnancy is full of great fortune. Back when chaos first split..."
"Hold up!" Before the priest could get rolling, Susan Morrow cut him off. "Correction: There’s only one baby in my belly."
The priest froze, mouth open, eyes wide like a rooster with its neck grabbed. "One? No way, absolutely not just one."
"I told you, there’s only one." Susan Morrow folded her arms like a professor. "I’m an OB-GYN myself, just had a checkup. Don’t know boy or girl, but there’s only one."
"Uh..." The priest scratched his head for ages, then clapped his hands. "Alright, you’re right, it’s one! But saying one is one, and saying a pair is a pair."
"Ugh... stubborn as a dead duck." Susan Morrow shook her head, exasperated, then nodded. "Fine, keep making stuff up."
"Madam, I’m not making things up." The priest, all mystical, gave examples: "The child in your belly is like Twin Blossoms on One Stem—same root, same source, but blooming into two flowers. Or like the Twin-Born Tree, one body but each half supports the sky. Rare, truly rare, a once-in-a-lifetime thing."
Watching the priest’s dramatic head-shaking, John Yang couldn’t hold back his inner snark: "Master, quick science lesson: what you’re describing is called monozygotic twins. Ask any med school professor about the odds."
The priest wasn’t fazed at all, just shook his head even harder: "No, no, no, Madam’s child isn’t an ordinary twin. When chaos first split, yin and yang were paired. True yin in yang, extreme yang in yin. If yin and yang work together, you’ll rule the world. You two meeting me here, at this very moment, is fate—there’s meaning to it."
"First, let’s look at the land." The priest pointed to the ground. "Li Bai once said: ‘Nature’s wonders gather here, yin and yang split dusk and dawn. To climb to the summit, and see all mountains small’—he was talking about this very spot. This place is full of meaning."
John Yang instantly snarked, "Sage, that was Du Fu, not Li Bai."
Unfazed, the priest pointed outside the pavilion: "Now, let’s look at the timing."
(This chapter isn’t over ^.^ Please click next page to keep reading!)
The couple looked out to see the vast world, dim and shadowy. The sun was setting in the west, painting the sky red, while the east was already darkening to deep blue, with the moon rising above.
"By the year, it’s the end of the old and the start of the new. By the day, it’s the meeting of yin and yang, the cycle of all things. Madam, your unborn child is just like the sun and moon. When the moon sets, the sun rises; when the sun sets, the moon shines. Yin and yang, day and night, taking turns—this is the great order of heaven. Sometimes, the sun and moon shine together. If both are in the sky, there’s boundless light." The priest spoke with one hand behind his back, stroking his beard, looking solemn. If only he weren’t so shabby, he’d almost seem immortal.
John Yang and his wife exchanged a glance and laughed. "So, by your logic, we’re having boy-girl twins, huh?"
The priest nodded sagely. "You could say a boy and a girl, or just one person. But ‘dragon-phoenix twins’ doesn’t do this child justice. Above the mundane are clouds, above clouds is the sky, above the sky are stars, above stars are the sun and moon. This child deserves the title ‘Sun-Moon Divine Fetus.’"
The couple were stunned by the priest’s seriousness, then burst out laughing. Susan Morrow giggled, "Ha! If I really had a boy and a girl, I’d be thrilled! You talk a good game, but sorry, I checked—there’s only one baby." John Yang laughed too. "No wonder so many old ladies fall for this—you’re so good at sweet-talking, even knowing it’s fake, I’m kinda happy myself."
The priest smiled slightly, then grew serious again. "But it’s not all good news. Mother and child will be safe, but you two may face a painful separation."
"A painful separation?" John Yang frowned, clearly unhappy. "What do you mean by that?"
"I mean, even though there are Twin Blossoms on One Stem, you’ll only ever see one flower—the other is completely invisible. Can’t touch, can’t see, it’s just not there."
"Hey! What are you on about?" They’d let the priest ramble just for some good luck talk, but now he was switching it up. John Yang was annoyed. "You think you’ve milked us enough and want us to ‘spend money to avoid disaster’ now?"
"Ha! This hardship is fate—can’t be fixed, can’t be fixed!"
"You!" What rotten luck, running into such a babbling lunatic! John Yang grabbed his wife’s hand. "Let’s go, don’t listen to him, he’s just after our money. Let’s head back and rest before he spouts more nonsense."
Susan Morrow agreed and followed her husband. As they walked away, they heard the priest shouting after them: "Sir, Madam, separation may be painful, but it’s not a disaster. One child will stay to bring you joy, and when the great calamity comes, your daughter will return—she’ll return, she’ll return..." His voice echoed like a TV deity, fading into the distance.
Susan Morrow couldn’t help but glance back, just as the sunset lined up perfectly with the pavilion. In the dazzling light, she couldn’t even tell if anyone was in there.
The next day, the couple got up early and went to Jade Emperor Peak’s Sunrise View to watch the sunrise over Mount Tai. The breathtaking scenery swept away all bad feelings, and they were lost in the joy of travel—no one gave a second thought to yesterday. After the trip, it was back to business as usual.
On December 25th, as planned, Susan Morrow went for another checkup. This time, she wanted to see if the baby was a boy or a girl.
Since it wasn’t a big deal and the clinic was right at work, Susan went alone. The nurse doing the scan was a newbie, so Susan figured it was a good chance for her to practice. The rookie fiddled with the ultrasound for ages, then said excitedly, "Sister Susan, congrats! One boy, one girl—dragon-phoenix twins!"
"No way, there’s only one baby." Susan calmly instructed, "Look carefully, make sure you’re not confusing shadows and shapes." Ah, young people—so careless and hasty, they really need more training.
The rookie nurse replied, "Oh," and kept checking for ages, poking around nervously. "Sister Susan, I still see two babies. Is the machine broken—or do you want to check yourself?"
"Hmm?" Susan looked up at the monitor, suddenly wide-eyed. After a moment of silence, she said nervously, "Quick, go get Director Xu! Hurry!"
Ten minutes later, Director Xu—forty-something, reliable, and the one who’d done all Susan’s pregnancy checks—rushed over. She stared at the screen for a long time, just as stunned: "How could this be? Last time there was only one, right? Susan, looks like this time—you really are having dragon-phoenix twins!"