Feng Shui magic

Li Chengfeng squinted at the tomb mound, where a thicket of **locust trees**—each as wide as a rice bowl—burst through the soil at its apex. The sight chilled him. In feng shui, trees growing atop graves were an **ominous taboo**. Most families would uproot such growths immediately, for their roots could strangle ancestral remains and poison the *yin* energy flowing to descendants.

"This," Li Chengfeng murmured, "is why your father and aunt are suffering."

Ye Mengyao stalked closer, suspicion sharpening her tone. "What nonsense now? When will you lift the curse?"

Ignoring her, Li Chengfeng traced the gnarled roots with his boot. "Whose tomb is this?"

"My great-grandfather's. Why?"

"Because *this*"—he kicked the locust trunk—"is choking your family's lifeblood."

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**The Tree of Misfortune**

Li Chengfeng circled the grave, lecturing like a stern scholar. "Trees have souls—**benevolent** and **malignant**. Plant a **pine** or **cypress** near a tomb, and descendants thrive. Let a **locust**, **chinaberry**, or **palm** take root, and disaster follows."

**Cultural Note:**

- **Locust Trees (刺槐)**: Considered "hungry ghosts" in feng shui, their thorns and invasive roots symbolize betrayal and decay.

He gestured to the tangled roots. "Ten years this parasite has festered. Its roots now pierce the coffin, pumping rot into your lineage. Your father's eyes, your aunt's voice—just the beginning."

Ye Mengyao scoffed. "A tree can't curse a family!"

"Can't it?" Li Chengfeng's gaze hardened. "How many Ye relatives in Beijing suffer the same fate? Blindness, lameness, voicelessness—*all* tied to this grave."

Her breath hitched. The medical reports flashed in her mind—cousins in the capital afflicted with identical symptoms. Geneticists blamed a **hereditary flaw**, but…

"You… how could you know about Beijing?"

"The tomb *told* me." He pressed a palm to the earth. "This locust isn't just a tree. It's a **dagger** plunged into your family's heart."

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**The Deadly Solution**

"Uproot it," Ye Mengyao demanded.

Li Chengfeng shook his head. "The roots have fused with the coffin. Tear it out now, and you sever the Ye bloodline itself."

"Then what?"

"Transplant it—carefully—to neutral ground. Let its malice dissipate harmlessly."

Ye Mengyao bit her lip. Her father, **Ye Gucheng**, would rage at disturbing ancestral rest. Yet the evidence coiled before her: blackened roots, the stench of decay, Li Chengfeng's unflinching certainty.

"Come," she said abruptly. "Convince my father yourself."

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**The Ride Back**

In the car, Li Chengfeng studied Ye Mengyao's reflection in the window. Her earlier arrogance had cracked, revealing raw fear. *She believes,* he realized. *She just won't admit it.*

As Qingzhou's skyline loomed, he broke the silence. "That locust… someone planted it deliberately."

"What?"

"Its seeds don't spread naturally here. A enemy buried them with the coffin—a slow-acting poison."

Ye Mengyao's knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. Family legends whispered of a jilted concubine's vengeance, a business rival's oath of ruin…

"Find who did this," she said softly, "and I'll double your fee."

Li Chengfeng smiled. The game had just begun.

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