These three fat guys having a meeting was simply a gathering of lard... The young onlooker bit his lip, squinted his eyes, and stifled his laughter, secretly thinking to himself, turning his face to the side for fear of being discovered by the trio, but still couldn't help sneaking glances at this rare spectacle. In the city, beauties were becoming more and more exotic, while men were transitioning toward obesity. Fat guys like these were nothing unusual, but these three were fat in rather peculiar ways. The one on the left was short and fat, with a squat build; the one on the right was burly, taking up the space of two people; the one in the middle was just plain fat, slouching on the bench with his potbelly sticking out, panting and complaining about how far they'd walked—when in fact, it was only a few hundred meters from the park gate.

While he was sneaking a look, the fat one who seemed to be the leader started complaining to the guy on the left. He turned his head and asked, “Ralph Porter, is your info reliable? We've been coming here for three days, getting up early every day. I wasn't even this diligent when I was dating. Where is he?”

Oh, they're looking for someone? The young man realized that Ralph Porter referred to the short fat one, and thought the nickname was quite fitting. He heard Ralph Porter trying to reassure the fat guy next to him: “Mr. Foster, don't worry, sincerity brings results. This kind of thing depends on fate and timing. That Gu Tiegua is like a little sage in our circle. Quite a few people have gone to him for fortune-telling, and he's pretty accurate.”

“Really? Old Roy, have you gone to him too?” the fat one asked the burly guy, guessing that Old Roy was also a nickname—and quite apt, since the two slabs of flesh on his cheeks alone must weigh a kilo. When he turned his face, it was all jowls and a big round face. He shook his head in denial, but then mysteriously steered the conversation toward hearsay: “I haven't, but I've heard about it. Mr. Foster, do you remember that Liu from Shangdao Café?”

“Didn't he die last month? He was cremated. Why bring him up?”

“Yeah, that's him... That Toyota Prado of his was the one we helped him get. I heard that a few months ago, this guy went to Gu Tiegua for a fortune-telling about his finances. As soon as they met, the old man looked at his face, then felt his palm, sighed in disappointment, and just left... Huh? Everyone was baffled by this. Not long after, Liu started feeling unwell, went to the hospital, and—oh boy—pancreatic cancer. He had surgery, but within three months, he was gone... Only later did people realize the old man had already seen that his days were numbered and didn't even bother to do the reading.”

The burly Old Roy told the story with vivid gestures and dramatic flair, so much so that the fat Mr. Foster seemed startled, staring wide-eyed as he turned to ask Ralph Porter, “Really!? He predicted his death just like that?”

“Of course it's true... It's not that he predicted his death, it's that the old man saw he didn't have long to live and didn't want to say it outright... There's even weirder stuff, Mr. Foster. Do you know the district chief of Jinhe District? He also went to Gu Tiegua for a reading. The old man actually did a divination for him and just said, ‘No open road ahead, no turning back behind,’ then turned and left... No one knew what it meant, but that one sentence sent the district chief away. And then, just a few days later, guess what happened...” Ralph Porter continued, equally mysterious.

The guessing made the fat Mr. Foster jump, blurting out, “He predicted his death again!?”

“No... First he was put under double investigation, then dismissed from his posts, and sent to prison for corruption and keeping several mistresses. It all came out—hardly any better than dying... Only after the story spread did people realize that ‘no open road ahead, no turning back behind’ meant the guy had reached a dead end... Really, a lot of people know about this, it's become legendary.” Ralph Porter described it just as vividly.

“Nonsense, what are you talking about? How could a district chief get caught up in superstitious stuff and let people know?” Fat Foster questioned the source, glaring with a boss-like air.

“Come on... The district chief doesn't know me, but his driver and I grew up together. Otherwise, I wouldn't even know we have such a miracle worker in Zhongzhou... When I asked around, I found out he's even more amazing than I thought.” Ralph Porter insisted, and Old Roy chimed in in agreement. It seemed the two of them were both trying to please Mr. Foster.

Unexpectedly, this made the fat Mr. Foster restless. He suddenly stood up and snapped, “Forget it, damn it, one got his death predicted, another got thrown in jail, and here I am losing so much I can't even pull my pants up. Are you guys trying to jinx me or what!?”

“Don't, don't, Mr. Foster, we're just saying the old man is really accurate.”

“Yeah, yeah, Mr. Foster, if we run into him, we'll ask; if not, at least we got some exercise. Can't just stay cooped up at home all the time...”

“Sit down, Mr. Foster, let's wait a bit longer...”

“Here, have a smoke...”