"Faith." Brian Brooks nodded. "The Diamond Sutra?" He had heard the title before, but as for what it actually contained, Brian Brooks, whose literary cultivation was quite poor, had absolutely no clue. He still held a bit of reverence for the various trades and sects of the jianghu, even though most were half-baked, but in every field there were bound to be one or two true masters. It's just that Brian Brooks believed in feng shui and geomancy, but not in the person standing before him.

"Traditional physiognomy, generally speaking, is all about the three sections, five features, and twelve palaces. It sounds simple, but once you really step through the door, you'll realize how deep it goes. I was pretty lucky, learned for a few years from an old man in the village. But he died early, so I didn't learn everything—just how to read the 'Inspector', the 'Upper Section', the 'Brothers Palace', and the 'Servants Palace'. So reading eyes and eyebrows is my specialty." The man spoke eloquently, his eyebrows dancing, spittle flying everywhere.

"Then take a look at me." Brian Brooks said with a smile. That string of jargon had left him a bit dazed. Although he believed in this stuff, he never dabbled in it himself. In this, he was completely different from Henry, who, though not a feng shui master and never discussing it in front of others, had inherited quite a few odd ideas from his grandfather.

"If someone sees a person with a sharp mouth and monkey cheeks and calls him a villain, or sees someone with big, fleshy ears and says he's destined for fortune, those people are definitely amateurs—they haven't even stepped through the door. Tell me, if someone stands outside the door, what can they see inside? Brother, am I right?" Seeing Brian Brooks nod, he continued with satisfaction, "Brother, to be honest, those outsiders, if they saw your face, would definitely say something like your ears stick out and you're doomed to a life of poverty, or your eyes and brows are narrow so you're scheming and won't live long, then try to scam you out of money to ward off disaster. Don't worry, I'm not that kind of person."

Brian Brooks suppressed a smile, keeping a serious expression, playing the role of a devout listener.

The man suddenly lowered his voice mysteriously and said, "The reason I say you're not ordinary is because your eye and brow palaces are truly exceptional. Looked at separately, they're nothing special, but together, they're remarkable. According to what my master taught me, you clearly have the 'Ziwei' physiognomy. Of course, there are many types of Ziwei in the Dipper system, and I can't say exactly which one you are. This stuff can't be spelled out—if I say too much, I'll lose years off my life. By the way, do you know what Ziwei means?"

Brian Brooks shook his head. He really didn't know.

He swore, "You know Cao Cao, right? Same as you—these eyes and brows. My master's chart had a detailed record, I remember it clearly. He also told me, in modern times, there's another person who's about the same."

"Who?" Brian Brooks asked.

"Lin Biao," the man whispered.

Brian Brooks struggled to hold back his laughter, almost bursting, and had to turn away and cough a few times to cover up the emotion that was about to spill out. Actually, if this guy had talked about something else, it would have been fine, but Henry had once casually mentioned that Brian Brooks's eyes and brows were a flaw, definitely not some nonsense Ziwei, and had nothing to do with Cao Cao or Lin Biao. Maybe the guy was embarrassed by his own bragging, because his face flushed slightly. If not for his dark skin, his whole face would have been red, like Guan Gong. Brian Brooks, playing along, started rummaging through his bag, acting like he was determined to thank this talent scout with money, and even said, "My mom told me I'd meet a benefactor on this trip, and I think it's definitely you. I don't have much cash on me, just a little over a thousand, hope you don't mind it's not much."

The man's eyes lit up instantly, the muscles in his face twitching with excitement.

In the end, after all that fuss, Brian Brooks only pulled out a fifty-cent bill, and handed it over respectfully to the dumbfounded guy, saying, "This is all the change I have, really sorry."

And so, the wolf and the jackal met in the middle of a very cold joke.

Chapter 9: Playing the Rogue

Brian Brooks wasn't stupid. If it weren't for his English dragging him down in the college entrance exam, he could have at least gotten into a not-so-great university. But he always felt he was a whole level below Henry. Back in high school, he had secretly read a few Jin Yong and Gu Long martial arts novels with a guilty conscience. "A heavy sword has no edge, great wisdom appears foolish"—these eight words were, without a doubt, the ultimate ideal in Brian Brooks's mind. He felt he was as far from them as could be, while Henry wasn't so far off. He used to think people outside had seen the world, but soon ran into a character like this.

Brian Brooks watched as the man's whole face twitched violently, but in the end, he still reached out and took the fifty cents. In the end, he was just like those guys running the prize-pull tab scams, making a living off little tricks. Then again, if he really had great wisdom, he wouldn't be doing this.

"Hunting hawks all day, only to have your eyes pecked out by one," the guy muttered, holding the fifty cents. He was short, with sparse hair, yet insisted on combing it into a traitorous middle part. He dressed a bit less rustic than Brian Brooks, but still looked like someone desperate to shed his peasant identity but unable to, an awkward in-between that made people uncomfortable.

"Even mosquito meat is still meat." Brian Brooks, whose ears were unusually sharp, remarked offhandedly. The look on his face was nothing like the honest, simple peasant so often described in books—he was cunning through and through. It seemed that old saying about 'vicious people coming from poor mountains and bad waters' really did fit Brian Brooks.