I have practiced ancient Chinese feng shui for many years. Now that I have washed my hands of it for good, there are truths I must speak — truths that, if left unsaid, would not let me rest in peace when my time comes.
Walking away
One night, I sat alone in a dimly lit hall. Before me was an old brass basin, scratched with age, half-filled with clear water. Outside, a black Rolls-Royce had been waiting for three hours. For the third time, a man came to knock on my door, holding a black umbrella. Even through the wooden door, I could hear the urgency — and the temptation — in his voice.
“Master Chen, if you will only come out of retirement and choose this burial site, five million in cash is already waiting in the car. Our boss says the price can go even higher.” I looked into the basin and saw my own face — lined, worn by years. Then I picked up my dragon-seeking rod, made of golden nanmu wood, which had followed me for four decades, along with my family’s handwritten copy of The Secret Sayings of the Green Satchel.
Without hesitation, I threw them into the fire. The flames leaped up, lighting my dim but resolute eyes. “Go back,” I said calmly. “Tell your boss — tonight, I wash my hands of this trade. From this day on, there is no more ‘Master Chen’ in the world.” Their footsteps faded into the night, reluctant and unwilling. I slowly placed my hands into the cold water, washing away the incense ash and soil embedded in my skin. As the ripples spread, forty years of memories rose before me, one after another.
Forty years in the trade
This year, I am 55 years old. I entered this profession at 15, apprenticing with a blind master. Carrying a compass, reading the land, tracing the veins of mountains, choosing burial sites — I have lived and breathed this life for 40 years.
I have met the powerful and the humble alike. I have arranged grand mansions and walked through desolate hills in search of burial sites. People referred to me as “Half-Immortal Chen,” praising my accuracy, believing I could alter fate itself. But today, I must pierce through the illusion — one that deceived others, and trapped me as well. For 40 years, I have held back too many truths. I have seen too many absurdities. If I do not speak now, I fear I never will. The first truth: No feng shui can save a heart without virtue.
People come to feng shui masters for wealth, success, and peace. They believe that placing certain objects (such as a mythical creature or a fish tank), arranging furniture, or relocating ancestral graves will change their destiny, thereby helping them become rich and powerful.
What a joke! What a profound misunderstanding! If wealth could be summoned so easily, we masters would already be the richest people in the world. Why would we brave the wind, rain, and scorching sun, searching in the mountains, working for you? Let me tell you a story.
Twenty years ago, a wealthy real estate tycoon, Mr. Lin, sought my help. His business was failing, and he believed it was due to poor ancestral feng shui. He asked me to find a perfect burial site — a “true dragon vein” — to restore his fortune. After weeks of searching in the great mountains with my disciples, I found a rare and excellent location — backed by mountains, embraced by flowing water, and brimming with energy. In feng shui terms, it was a site destined to produce immense wealth.
He was overjoyed. He bought the land, held a grand grave relocation ceremony, and promised me a large bonus. But after the ceremony, I visited his home — and made a mistake that revealed everything. I accidentally entered a dark, windowless storage room. There, on a worn bed, lay an elderly woman — frail, neglected, barely conscious. The woman was his mother.
She had suffered a stroke, leaving her paralyzed and incontinent. Because his wife resented the burden of caring for her, she had been moved from the sunny upstairs bedroom into a dark, damp, forgotten corner. And he, a wealthy tycoon, had allowed it.
At that moment, I felt a chill deep in my bones. Before leaving, I told him: “The best feng shui is not in the mountains — it is in your home. You have abandoned the living Buddha in your house. Even if your ancestors lie upon a dragon vein, it cannot protect your fortune.” But rather than heed my warning, he took offense. Within three years, his empire collapsed. His wealth vanished. His family fell apart. And one winter night, he ended his life.
People said I had chosen a bad site. I did not argue, but I knew the truth: No auspicious land can compensate for a corrupt heart. If a person lacks filial piety and compassion, his heart is filled with putrid water. No compass can guide his destiny. Parents are the root. Children are the branches. If the root is severed, how can the branches flourish and bear fruit? This is the first truth: Without virtue, all prayers and feng shui are in vain. The second truth: true feng shui lies within
Years later, I encountered something that changed me completely. One summer day out in the countryside, I was caught in a storm and took shelter in a poor rural home. The woman who lived there, Wang Guihua, welcomed me warmly, offering ginger soup and a bowl of egg noodles — no small kindness in those days.
Yet her home stood in what we would call a deadly configuration — caught between narrow, intersecting roads and overshadowed by a much taller neighboring structure. By all accounts, it was a place marked by misfortune, signifying the family’s decline, the violent deaths of its male members, and an eventual descent into isolation and destitution.
And indeed, her life had been full of hardship. Her husband had died young in a car accident. Her son had polio and was disabled. They worked very hard and lived in dire poverty. But her face held no bitterness. She spoke of her son with pride. She spoke of her neighbors with gratitude.
When I offered to fix her home’s feng shui, she gently declined. She thanked me, but explained that she couldn’t afford the cost of the alterations because she needed the money for her son’s medical care. “As long as we live honestly,” she said, “Heaven will not drive us into a dead end.” Her words struck me like thunder. Ten years later, I returned.
That “cursed” location had become the center of a busy marketplace. Her home was now a thriving shop. Her son had become a skilled craftsman, respected and successful, with a family of his own. Standing there, I was stunned and overwhelmed. No “bad feng shui” could defeat a heart that was kind, resilient, and open. She had not changed her environment by physical means — she had transformed it through her character.
If your heart is broad, everywhere you go will be a sunny road; if your heart is narrow, even living in a palace, you will feel that every path is a dead end. This is the second truth: The best feng shui is not your house or your ancestors’ graves — it is your heart.
What feng shui really is
For 40 years, I have witnessed too many families’ joys and sorrows. Many young couples, having just bought a new house, argue and fight endlessly over its feng shui. A woman is the feng shui eye of a home; a man’s character is its load-bearing wall. If he is gentle outside but cruel at home, or if she is sharp-tongued and complains all day, the family’s wealth and fortune will slip away and be lost.
Many siblings fight tooth and nail over their parents’ inheritance, sometimes never speaking to each other again — only to spend a fortune later repairing ancestral graves and praying for blessings. Isn’t that ridiculous? Their ancestors, watching from above and witnessing such behavior, would more likely feel anger than offer any blessing — perhaps even enough to invite misfortune rather than prevent it.
For 40 years, I measured land — but what I truly witnessed was the human heart. I have seen the wealthy, surrounded by treasures, unable to sleep at night — haunted by fear — fear of betrayal by partners, fear of being devoured by power, fear of retribution for their evil deeds. I have seen the poor, living in leaking homes, laughing over simple meals, sleeping in peace. The Book of Changes says: “A family that accumulates goodness will be blessed. A family that accumulates wrongdoing will invite disaster.”
The truth was always there. We simply chose not to see it. Nowadays, people are often driven by greed — constantly seeking shortcuts and believing that by paying a feng shui master, they can escape karma or defy fate.
A final word
I can find good land, but I cannot give someone a good heart. I can adjust a house — but I cannot calm a restless soul. So I have chosen to walk away. I will return to the countryside, tend a small field, raise some chickens, and live simply. What I have saved, I will mostly give away to schools in the remote mountain areas.
And to you, reading this — Perhaps you are worrying about your home, your fortune, your future. Let me offer you one piece of advice: Stop searching outside. Look instead at your parents — have you cared for them well? Look at your partner — have you shown them warmth? Look at yourself — when was the last time you helped someone without expectation? Cultivate your heart. Nurture your relationships. Replace calculation with sincerity, complaint with gratitude. When your inner world changes, your outer world follows. Because, in the end, you are the true master of your own life’s feng shui.
Translated by Katy Liu and edited by Tatiana Denning
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