He took the tea canister handed to him by the girl, gulped down a big mouthful, cleared his throat twice, and then explained, “The most important thing about a person’s face is balance—harmony and naturalness, with proper proportion. If so, one’s life will be peaceful, free from disaster or hardship. But if you want to see something more, you have to look closely at the five features, among which the three sections are the most crucial. The face is structured around the three sections: from the hairline to the glabella is the upper section, which governs one’s fate before the age of twenty-eight; from the glabella to the tip of the nose is the middle section, which governs fate from twenty-eight to fifty; from the tip of the nose to the chin is the lower section, which naturally governs fate after fifty. Since young man, you are twenty-three, we should look at the upper section. Just now, the young lady said your forehead is round and full, without blemish, so you should have had smooth sailing so far. But there is a congenital flaw above your left eyebrow, starting at the twenty-second position and spanning one and a half positions. That means you must have encountered misfortune last year. Am I right?”

Emily Thompson was startled. Last year, he had fallen off a cliff and arrived in the Tang Dynasty—could that be the misfortune referred to? He was a bit confused and hesitated before asking, “What do you mean by the twenty-second position, spanning one and a half positions? Could you explain more clearly, elder?”

The old man smiled and said, “Besides the three sections and five features, there are other auxiliary judgments in physiognomy, such as the hairline, eyebrows, cheekbones, jaw, and positions. What I just mentioned is the positions. Positions are actually a more detailed division of the face. For example, I said your upper section is good, your forehead is full and smooth—is that all? Actually, no. There are a hundred positions distributed on the face, each representing a year of age. The first to the twenty-eighth positions are all concentrated in the upper section. To examine the upper section is to look closely at these twenty-eight positions. Fullness and smoothness are best; if they are dull, it indicates illness; if damaged, it indicates disaster. This year you are twenty-three, so the twenty-third position is above your left eyebrow, where there is a congenital flaw, stretching from the adjacent twenty-second position and ending at the middle of the twenty-third. So I deduced that you have had misfortune from last year to this year. Just now, I heard your voice was loud and your tone cheerful, which shouldn’t be the demeanor of someone suffering disaster, so I asked the young lady to look carefully to see if the flaw was truly congenital. If not, I wouldn’t dare draw a conclusion.”

Emily Thompson found it interesting and asked, “Then, elder, can you tell what I will do in the future?”

The girl whispered a few more words, and the old man nodded, “As for the future! Naturally, we look at the middle section, that is, the nose. For men, the nose governs official fortune; for women, it governs marriage. Young man, your glabella is prominent, your nose bridge is straight, long and fleshy—this is the sign of great wealth and status. Especially since the tip of your nose is long and, from the front, covers half the nostril—this is called a ‘business nose.’ I suggest you go into business in the future; you will surely become very wealthy.”

Emily Thompson was overjoyed: “That suits me perfectly!” He stood up and thanked him, “Elder, your words are as precious as gold. I am enlightened!”

The old man chuckled, “Physiognomy is about balance and proportion, unrelated to beauty or ugliness. If all parts are smooth and rosy, it means the person is healthy and energetic. As long as you are healthy, is there anything you can’t accomplish? Young man, don’t you agree?”

Emily Thompson laughed heartily, “Elder, you are absolutely right. As long as you are healthy, there’s nothing you can’t do!”

He then smiled at the girl, “Every word from the elder is a gem, seeing through the ways of the world. It’s only right to pay a string of coins. I do wish to, but I’m afraid the young lady won’t accept.”

“No harm!” the old man suddenly laughed. “If you’re willing to give, I don’t mind.”

Emily Thompson smiled wryly, took out a string of coins from his pouch, gently placed it in the old man’s hand, and strode away.

The girl said nothing, only gazed at Emily Thompson’s departing figure, her eyes growing slightly moist.

After wandering around with great interest for a while, Emily Thompson saw that it was already close to the third watch of the night. He picked up three lanterns and slowly made his way toward the Zhang residence. That night, he felt elated. He had been in the Tang Dynasty for several months, spending every day with that old Daoist, tricking people for food and drink. Though it was for survival, he always felt a vague sense of guilt and unease. Only tonight did his heart feel sweet as honey. Was the joy of helping others really so memorable?

Passing a few willow trees, he saw the back gate of the Zhang residence ahead. On the night of the Lantern Festival, the main gate was normally closed, and the back gate was used for entry and exit. The road here was dark and deserted, a stark contrast to the lively bustle of the main street. Emily Thompson lit a beauty lantern and placed it on the tallest weeping willow. The lantern’s light flickered in the cold wind, like a guiding star in the darkness, echoing the full moon in the sky, as if it carried even more longing than the thousands of lanterns under the Farewell Bridge.

Turning back to bid the beauty lantern farewell, Emily Thompson hummed a tune and walked briskly toward the back gate. Suddenly, he seemed to hear faint footsteps. Listening closely, the sound vanished. Emily Thompson thought nothing of it—surely he wasn’t the only one out wandering tonight.

Turning another corner, he could already see the deathly lantern hanging above the back gate. Suddenly, a wave of drowsiness hit him, and he quickened his pace. All at once, everything went black—a cloth bag was thrown over his head. Four or five dark figures sprang out from both sides, surrounding him and beating and kicking him mercilessly, as if intent on taking his life. In just a moment, Emily Thompson curled up into a ball and collapsed to the ground. At that moment, a woman’s scream came from not far away: “Help!” The dark figures scattered in panic as if stung by scorpions. The woman, seeing the assailants flee, rushed forward and cried out, shaking him, “Young Master Thompson! Are you all right? Young Master Thompson!”