Fortune Telling Live: Streaming from the Human Realm - Chapter 1 - Live Streaming in Progress

The scorching summer had arrived in the bustling international metropolis of Nan City.

Nan University, the best university in Nan City, boasted exceptional greenery. The central ten-mile-long green belt was adorned with vibrant and radiant flowers. The campus was dotted with numerous ponds, their crystal-clear waters reflecting the lush green lotus leaves floating on the surface.

Students walked together on the paths, laughing and chatting as they headed to class.

However, attending classes was no longer a concern for the graduates.

Dormitory Building No. 1

An Rugu carefully placed the ancient books from her desk into a small white suitcase, treating each one as if it were a precious treasure. She smoothed out the creases with her hand.

Her roommate, Yangyang, seeing her start to pack so early, felt a bit confused and asked in surprise, “Are you leaving so soon? Aren’t you going to spend a few more days with us?”

According to the university’s notice, graduates were required to clear out their dormitories, return their student cards, and leave the campus by the 20th.

Everyone in their dorm had successfully passed their thesis defenses, taken graduation photos, and received their diplomas, ready to leave at any time. But with five or six days still left before the 20th, graduates usually took the opportunity to enjoy some final days of fun with their friends before departing.

An Rugu shook her head slightly, her waterfall-like black hair cascading over her shoulders. Her voice was as clear as water striking stone: “I have an urgent matter at home. You all go ahead and have fun.”

Hearing this, Yangyang exchanged glances with the other two roommates, none of them quite agreeing.

This was the last gathering of their university life. After this, they would be scattered to the winds, perhaps never to meet again.

If it were anyone else who didn’t want to join the gathering, they would have already pulled her in, insisting and not letting her go.

But given An Rugu’s aloof demeanor, they felt too shy and hesitant to cross that boundary and push for something more intimate.

After all, An Rugu was famously known as the “Ice Beauty” in their department.

They casually observed An Rugu. Her nose was high, her eyelashes long. But her most striking feature was her eyes-dark and luminous, they seemed to speak volumes even when she remained silent. With such a face that could wield beauty like a weapon, it was no exaggeration to say she could have walked through university with ease. Indeed, her suitors had never ceased.

But from what they had observed, An Rugu was cold and indifferent to others, only slightly warmer to her somewhat familiar roommates.

Those suitors, therefore, chose to take a roundabout approach, putting in great effort to build good relationships with her roommates. Over the past four years, they had been showered with chocolates, flowers, and more, all in the hopes of getting them to help arrange a date with An Rugu.

But they were not the type to be swayed by small favors. More importantly… they didn’t want to risk An Rugu’s displeasure by accepting such gifts, so they always refused.

Seeing that nothing worked, the suitors eventually gave up, and thus the slightly old-fashioned but fitting nickname “Ice Beauty” spread far and wide.

Yangyang stole a glance at An Rugu, her eyes lingering on her soft, fair cheeks. Her heart was far from calm, despite her composed exterior.

If fairies truly existed, they would probably look just like An Rugu.

What kind of good karma had she accumulated in her past life to have such a stunning beauty as her roommate? Simply looking at that face every day had lifted her spirits, making her feel like she could live a few more years.

But she also knew that graduation was upon them. After this, they would all scatter to different corners of the world, and this might very well be the last time they would see each other.

Although they hadn’t been particularly close over the past four years, Yangyang couldn’t help but feel a pang of sadness at the thought of parting ways with An Rugu.

After a long silence, she mustered the courage to break the unfamiliarity between them and initiated a conversation.

“What’s the urgent matter at your home?”

An Rugu continued her packing, meticulously organizing her belongings. At Yangyang’s question, her hands paused briefly before she replied after a moment, “My shifu¹ passed away. I need to go home to arrange his funeral.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Huh?”

“What shifu?”

Hearing this, the other roommates, who had been eavesdropping, turned their heads in unison, curiosity evident in their voices.

The word “shifu” was familiar to them-they could read and write it, and it was a simple, common term. But it carried an ancient weight, a term that wasn’t often used in modern times, making it feel distant and almost archaic.

Yangyang wondered if this “shifu” was perhaps a professor or mentor of An Rugu’s, someone she was close enough to refer to as “shifu” instead of the more common “teacher” or “professor.”

An Rugu, thinking of her shifu, spoke with a hint of nostalgia, “If you’ve ever visited Chuyun Temple to offer incense, you might have seen him. He was the temple’s abbot.”

“Chuyun Temple?”

“An Rugu’s shifu was a Taoist priest?”

Yangyang was utterly astonished, but then her eyes caught the Taoist classics in An Rugu’s suitcase, and it suddenly made sense.

An Rugu often read Taoist texts, and like everyone else, Yangyang had assumed she was simply an enthusiast of Taoist culture.

The roommates exchanged glances, all equally surprised. None of them had ever imagined that An Rugu had such a background.

At that moment, one of her roommates seemed to recall something and said, “Chuyun Temple? That name sounds familiar. Is it the one in the Western Suburbs of Nan City?”

“Yes,” An Rugu replied.

The roommate racked her brain, trying to remember. After a while, she said, “I’ve heard about it when I visited the Western Suburbs. I wanted to check it out, but I heard it’s up in the mountains, and I didn’t feel like hiking, so I never went.”

Though none of them were religious or knew much about Taoism, they were all intrigued by the mysterious. Their gazes toward An Rugu shifted subtly.

Yangyang, as if seeing An Rugu in a new light, asked excitedly, “So, what do you Taoists usually do?”

An Rugu shook her head. “I haven’t been ordained yet. I’m not a Taoist.”

“Huh? But isn’t your shifu a Taoist?”

Yangyang couldn’t help but wonder if An Rugu wasn’t qualified to become a Taoist due to some lack of ability.

But then she thought about An Rugu’s consistently sky-high GPA and her diligent work ethic, and immediately dismissed the idea.

An Rugu was serious, capable, and even if she struggled in other areas, she certainly wouldn’t be unqualified.

An Rugu’s eyes flickered with a hint of melancholy and nostalgia. “My shifu didn’t agree.”

She had been brought to Chuyun Temple by the Old Taoist Priest as a child and had studied there for over a decade. She believed she was as capable as anyone else, but for reasons unknown, her shifu had never allowed her to formally become his disciple.

Whenever she asked about it, the Old Taoist Priest would stroke his beard, his robes fluttering in the breeze, and calmly say, “The time isn’t right.”

So while they had a master-disciple relationship in practice, it was never formalized.

Yangyang, her initial excitement fading, quickly tried to comfort An Rugu, recalling her earlier words. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

The other roommates also hurried to console her, urging her not to be too sad.

An Rugu replied calmly, “It’s alright.”

The others assumed she was putting on a brave face, but truthfully, An Rugu wasn’t particularly surprised. Both she and her shifu understood the workings of fate, and human lifespan was one of them.

She had wanted to return early to see him one last time, but the Old Taoist Priest had insisted she wait until after his passing to handle his funeral arrangements.

An Rugu thought about her shifu’s meticulous attention to his appearance and figured he probably didn’t want his disciple to see him in his final, less dignified state.

After packing her suitcase, An Rugu cleaned her desk spotless, returned the keys to the dormitory supervisor, bid farewell to her roommates, and took a bus back to Tangchi Village in the Western Suburbs of Nan City.

Nan City’s transportation system was well-developed, and even the once-remote Western Suburbs had gradually developed over the years. Although Tangchi Village didn’t yet have a subway station, there were several bus routes available for the villagers’ convenience.

The Old Taoist Priest had asked her to handle his funeral arrangements, but when An Rugu returned, she found that he had already entrusted his old friend-the Village Chief-to take care of everything.

All An Rugu had to do was follow the Village Chief’s lead.

The Old Taoist Priest had lived a reclusive life, and the only people he was close to were the villagers at the foot of the mountain.

Out of neighborly goodwill, he had often helped them overcome difficulties and dispel misfortunes.

So when the Old Taoist Priest passed away, those in the village who had benefited from his kindness were deeply sorrowful, and their mourning was heartfelt.

After the funeral banquet, the Village Chief, a cigarette dangling from his lips, walked over to An Rugu. He looked at his friend’s disciple and let out a long sigh. “He’s gone, and now the Taoist Temple is empty. What do you plan to do?”

The Old Taoist Priest had been a lone figure. Aside from him, there were no other Taoist priests in Chuyun Temple. Although the temple was relatively accessible, there had been wandering Taoist priests who wanted to stay there temporarily. However, for reasons unknown, the Old Taoist Priest had always turned them away.

The Village Chief exhaled a puff of smoke, thinking about the now desolate and dilapidated Chuyun Temple, and couldn’t help but feel how much things had changed.

According to the village elders, Chuyun Temple had once been a thriving center of worship, the largest temple in the area. But over time, it had declined, leaving only the Old Taoist Priest as its sole caretaker.

Before his death, the Old Taoist Priest had specifically entrusted the temple to An Rugu.

But when the Village Chief heard about this decision, he thought it was wishful thinking.

In his eyes, An Rugu, a top student from Nan University, should be looking for a comfortable office job. How could she possibly manage a rundown Taoist Temple?

Hearing his question, An Rugu turned her head toward the direction of Chuyun Mountain and remained silent for a long time.

Seeing her like this, the Village Chief felt his suspicions were confirmed-An Rugu didn’t want to take over the temple.

The Old Taoist Priest hadn’t known how to raise a child. When An Rugu first arrived in Tangchi Village, the Old Taoist Priest had entrusted her to the Village Chief’s daughter-in-law. As a result, the Village Chief’s family had a special bond with An Rugu.

When An Rugu was admitted to Nan University, the Village Chief had hung a banner at the village entrance for three days and three nights to celebrate.

The Village Chief took a deep drag from his cigarette, silently thinking to himself, Master Chen, she’s a young college student with a bright future ahead of her. If my granddaughter could achieve even half of what An Rugu has, I’d be over the moon. So please, don’t hold her back.

Deep down, the Village Chief wanted to reassure An Rugu, to let her know she shouldn’t feel guilty about her choices.

Just as he was about to speak, An Rugu suddenly broke the silence. “…Of course, I’ll take good care of it and keep it running.”

The Village Chief: “???”

His hand trembled, nearly burning himself with the cigarette butt. His voice was filled with astonishment. “You… you’re really going to manage this Taoist Temple?”

An Rugu smiled, her expression warm and sincere as she looked at the kind elder before her. “Yes, I came back right after graduation because I’m ready to take over the temple.”

The Village Chief: “!!!”

Utterly baffled, the Village Chief couldn’t wrap his head around An Rugu’s decision. His mind was in turmoil. “Why? Isn’t finding a job outside better?”

Tangchi Village, nestled near Nan City, had seen significant development in recent years, with the construction of a tech park and a university town nearby. Yet, it still struggled to retain its local population.

Why would An Rugu choose to stay in the village?

An Rugu spoke earnestly, “Village Chief, don’t you want to see Chuyun Temple thrive once more?”

The hand holding the cigarette trembled again, and the Village Chief’s gaze grew distant. He had been close to the Old Taoist Priest, admiring him greatly and considering him a kindred spirit. He deeply empathized with the Old Taoist Priest’s journey and naturally wished for the only Taoist Temple in the area to flourish.

An Rugu’s words struck a chord in the Village Chief’s heart, leaving him speechless for a long while.

When he finally regained his composure, he stared at An Rugu, searching her face for any hint of insincerity. Seeing her serious expression, he felt moved but still uncertain. “But… but it’s not easy, is it? Even your shifu, a man of such great ability, couldn’t achieve it.”

“My shifu lived a reclusive life,” An Rugu said calmly. “I’m different from him.”

The Village Chief, who had initially opposed An Rugu’s decision to stay in the village, left in a daze after their conversation.

An Rugu, meanwhile, walked alone to the foot of Chuyun Mountain. It was said that the mountain hadn’t always been called Chuyun Mountain. It was only after the famous Chuyun Temple was established here that the locals gave it this name.

As she gazed at the familiar yet long-unseen mountain, memories of her childhood overlapped with the present. Over the years, Chuyun Mountain had remained almost unchanged.

The mountain wasn’t particularly tall, but it was breathtakingly beautiful. Its summit was often shrouded in mist, surrounded by lush greenery. Despite the sweltering heat, as soon as she set foot on Chuyun Mountain, a cool breeze swept over her, clearing her mind and refreshing her spirit.

An Rugu ascended the stone steps, each one neatly laid out despite the occasional unevenness. These steps, she knew, had been meticulously built by the first master of Chuyun Temple and his disciples over a thousand years ago, and they had withstood the test of time remarkably well.

As she walked, she thought of her roommate’s words. Chuyun Mountain wasn’t particularly high, and reaching the summit didn’t require much effort.

After climbing 266 steps, she finally stood before Chuyun Temple.

A deep mountain breeze swept through, and there, nestled under the shade of a few ancient pine trees, stood the old Taoist Temple. Its aura was timeless, solemn, and dignified.

Chuyun Temple was small-just a single shrine, a few rooms, and a courtyard-its layout simple and unpretentious.

The temple had long been equipped with electricity and air conditioning, but the cool mountain breeze in the summer was more than enough to keep things comfortable.

While all Taoist Temples honor the Three Pure Ones², each temple also enshrines different deities, such as the Eight Immortals³, the Lord of Tai Sui⁴, or the Ancestral Master⁵ of their respective sects.

In the small shrine of Chuyun Temple, however, a rather unique and lesser-known deity was worshipped-the Lord of Fate.

The Lord of Fate is a subordinate of the Great Emperor of Longevity of the South Pole⁶ and one of the Six Palaces of the Southern Dipper⁷, overseeing the destinies of mortals.

Legend has it that the founding master of Chuyun Temple once received guidance from the Lord of Fate, which led to his enlightenment and mastery of the principles of fate. This inspired him to build Chuyun Temple.

This tale, however, seemed too ethereal, more like a story crafted to elevate the temple’s prestige, and as a result, few people believed it.

Incense serves as a medium to communicate with the divine, and burning it is a way to make wishes to the gods.

An Rugu chose three sticks of incense, representing the Three Treasures and corresponding to the Three Realms. The spacing between the sticks was no more than 1 cun⁸, symbolizing sincerity.

During her senior year, while her classmates were busy preparing for graduate school, civil service exams, or job hunting, An Rugu, who had always excelled academically, remained unmoved. When her teachers and classmates expressed confusion, she simply said she was returning to her hometown to work. In truth, she had long harbored the idea of managing Chuyun Temple.

The Village Chief thought she was staying to honor the Old Taoist Priest and take over the temple, but in reality, she was doing it for herself.

She enjoyed fortune-telling. Rather than forcing herself into a job she disliked and merely going through the motions, why not turn her passion into her work?

As for whether her choice was the right one…

As soon as she lit the incense, the flame surged upward. She placed the sticks in the burner, and the flame remained steady and bright. Soon, sparks flew, accompanied by crackling sounds.

As the saying goes, “With a single offering of true incense, the high deities descend to bestow blessings.” Watching the auspicious signs in the flame, An Rugu understood.

This was a sign of the gods’ favor-a great omen.

Yet, even if it hadn’t been auspicious, An Rugu, ever steadfast in her convictions, wouldn’t have changed her mind.

After paying her respects at the shrine, An Rugu made her way to her room. Located at the back of the Taoist Temple, her room was small but fully equipped. Last year, the Village Chief had even gone out of his way to install Wi-Fi for her.

An Rugu pulled out her laptop, connected to the internet, and soon found herself lost in thought.

Ever since she decided to take over the management of the Taoist Temple, she had been planning her next steps. If the temple were a product, the key to its success would be promotion.

The government’s stance on matters of metaphysics was neutral-neither supportive nor opposed, leaving it entirely up to individuals.

She still had some savings. Maybe… she could hire a company to promote the temple?

Just then, her phone buzzed. She picked it up and saw a message in the dorm group chat titled “Four Flowers.”

[Yangyang: Are you home yet?]

An Rugu knew this was her roommate’s way of checking in on her. She replied: [I’m home.]

[Yangyang: Good to hear. Happy cat emoji.jpg]

[Yangyang: You missed tonight’s party. It was so lively-all the handsome guys and pretty girls from the department were there.]

[Zhang Xia: A lot of people were really disappointed when they found out you weren’t coming. Their faces were priceless, haha.]

Perhaps An Rugu’s striking appearance had left such an impression that people acted more reserved around her in person. Now, chatting online, the atmosphere felt much livelier.

An Rugu didn’t mind the teasing and joined in the conversation for a while.

[Yangyang: Okay, I’m done chatting. I’m off to do something else. My favorite streamer just went live.]

[Zhang Xia: Which streamer? Let me see.]

[Yangyang: It’s a gaming streamer on Shark Platform named Aige. He used to be a pro player-his skills are insane…]

[Zhang Xia: The real highlight is that he’s good-looking, isn’t it?]

[Yangyang: Stop exposing the truth like that!]

Intrigued, An Rugu opened Shark Platform and typed “Aige” into the search bar. A live streaming room popped up on her phone. The main screen displayed a game interface, while a small camera window in the bottom right corner showed a man wearing headphones. He was decent-looking.

Aige had just opened a newly released indie game and was playing it with great enthusiasm.

The streaming room had over three million viewers, a clear testament to Aige’s popularity. Even though it was a small, newly released game, many viewers expressed interest in downloading and trying it out after watching him play.

An Rugu’s gaze lingered on the number-three million. Her pupils contracted slightly, and a bold idea began to take shape in her mind.

If live streaming could attract that many viewers… then maybe she should give it a try too.

Footnote:

1. Three Pure Ones(三清祖师): The highest deities in Taoism, representing the three fundamental forces of the universe.
2. Eight Immortals(八仙): Eight legendary Taoist immortals, symbolizing different abilities and good fortune.
3. Lord of Tai Sui(太岁星君): Star deities in Taoism who govern the year and one’s destiny.
4. Ancestral Master(祖师爷): Founding or significant figures of a Taoist sect or other religious groups.
5. Great Emperor of Longevity of the South Pole(南极长生大帝):A Taoist deity of longevity, governing life and immortality.
6. Six Palaces of the Southern Dipper(南斗六宫): Star officials of the Southern Dipper in Taoism, associated with life and destiny.
7. Cun(寸):The “cun” is one of the traditional Chinese units of length, 1 cun ≈ 3.33 cm.