Mark Harris complained while looking at several deserted fortune-telling stalls nearby, pulling open his collar and fanning himself inside. It was the height of summer, the blazing sun hung high in the sky, and standing under this scorching sun without any shade was truly unbearable.

“You’re just a kid, what do you know? This time, we’re not just here to draw a fortune slip—I also want to ask a master to read your fortune.”

The middle-aged plump woman beside him was none other than Mark Harris’s mother, Grace Miller. She gave Mark Harris a sharp flick on the head without mercy: “Don’t look at those gentlemen over there, they may look the part, but who knows what real skills they have. This side is where the direct disciple of the great Master Situ sits. It’s said he’s inherited at least seventy percent of the master’s true teachings. I’ve wanted to have you meet this gentleman since the beginning of the year. If it works out, this trip won’t be in vain, will it?”

A great master, really?

Mark Harris sneered inwardly, completely unconvinced. Actually, when it came to fortune-telling and face reading, these mystical things passed down from the ancestors, he wasn’t entirely skeptical.

According to his father, if a butterfly flapping its wings in Brazil could cause a tornado in Texas a month later, then a person’s facial features, home arrangement, or even the orientation of their ancestors’ graves could influence their life—it wasn’t entirely nonsense.

—Feng shui and face reading did have their merits, after all.

But even his father, who said this, didn’t believe that anyone in the modern world truly possessed such abilities.

Just then, the couple ahead of them in line, perhaps impatient or suddenly called away, left after receiving a phone call. Grace Miller happily pulled Mark Harris forward a few steps. Soon, the customer in front finished their face reading, and it was their turn.

“Are you here for a fortune slip interpretation, a fortune reading, or a face reading?”

The man sitting behind the stall was about thirty, with a short beard on his chin and a somewhat rugged face, giving the impression of a man of the Dao at first glance.

“All of them, all of them! Please, sir, take a good look at my child—”

Handing over the slip of paper with the fortune written on it, Grace Miller’s plump face broke into a wide smile, her eyes full of flattery, making Mark Harris frown beside her.

“Judging by your son’s age, it’s probably not about love. Now that the college entrance exams are over, are you asking about his future?”

Seeing Grace Miller nodding eagerly, the bearded man gave a faint smile and took the slip to read.

A hidden dragon awaits its day of light,

Patience is needed until the time is right.

Tigers and dragons struggle, fate is set,

When spring winds turn, surprises are met.

His brow furrowed almost imperceptibly, and the man fixed his gaze on Mark Harris.

The meaning of this fortune is that the ancients used the dragon as a metaphor for a person’s fate—a hidden dragon is one in concealment. Why hide? Because the time is not right, so one must wait in obscurity. Once the opportunity arises, the dragon soars to the sky and achieves greatness. For the one who draws this fortune, all things must wait for their time; the day of brightness will come. As for when the dragon will soar, it will be in the months of Bing and Ding.

Just from the wording, it was clear this was a very inauspicious fortune. Normally, when drawing a fortune in front of the temple’s deity, there would be an explanation on the slip, but at Shangqinglin, unlike other places, there was only the verse, no annotation. The meaning depended entirely on the interpreter’s explanation.

If the question were about something else, it would be fine—the man could use words to reassure the customer and happily collect his fee. But this time, the question was about the college entrance exam results, which would be announced in just a few days. If he gave a false reassurance and was proven wrong, it would ruin his reputation.

A bit hesitant, the man carefully examined the young man’s face before him. At first, nothing seemed amiss, but upon closer inspection, he was utterly shocked. His eyes nearly popped out of their sockets.

“Sir, what does this fortune mean?”

Grace Miller’s face had lost its smile, replaced by anxiety. Though not highly educated, she ran a small wholesale food business and was skilled at reading people. Just by looking at the man’s expression, she could tell the fortune’s meaning was probably not good.

But the man said nothing. To everyone’s surprise, he grabbed Mark Harris’s hand and strode quickly into the temple. At first, Mark Harris tried to struggle, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t break free. Only then was he startled—maybe this fortune-teller really did have some skills.

“Master, Master—”

They entered the temple, passed through a side door into two courtyards. Before Mark Harris could look around, the man dragged him into a side room. As soon as they entered, a wave of cool air hit Mark Harris—the air conditioning was on. Coming in from the blazing sun, he immediately felt refreshed.

“Henry Clark, what’s going on? You’re not a child anymore, why are you still making such a fuss?”

It was a room styled like an ancient meditation chamber. In the center, on a meditation cushion, sat a white-haired old man of about sixty. As soon as they entered, the old man looked up, a hint of reproach on his face. “Henry Clark, let me scold you later. First, take a look at his face and check his aura!”