The old Chinese saying “One’s blessings in life come from virtue, destiny, feng shui, hidden good deeds, and education,” highlights the significance of feng shui in shaping fortunes. While good feng shui is believed to bring prosperity, tampering with it can lead to dire consequences. Here are two stories from ancient China that illustrate this concept.
A winding stone path invites disaster
Feng shui masters often interpret a location’s auspiciousness based on its terrain’s shape or resemblance. During the Qing Dynasty, a man named Wang Qi from Suzhou lost his parents at a young age. In his twenties, he earned a living teaching young children in a private school in Yangshan. Unable to properly bury his parents for years, Wang Qi eventually purchased a plot of land resembling a smooth, melon-shaped stone to bury them. The site, though rugged and remote, seemed promising.
After completing the burial, he moved to the capital, registered under the household of Wanping County, and began pursuing scholarly exams. He passed the imperial examination in just two years, ultimately becoming an imperial inspector in Yunnan.
As his career flourished, Wang Qi sought to make it easier to pay respects at his parents’ grave. He commissioned the construction of a stone path winding up the mountain, spending 2,000 silver taels to make it sturdy and accessible. One day, a feng shui master passing by the site commented: “This grave once resembled a swallow’s nest perched in the rafters, a highly auspicious formation. Unfortunately, the newly constructed stone path now resembles a long snake entering the grave. Such a disruption will bring calamity.”
Not long after, Wang Qi’s life took a turn for the worse. He was accused of financial misconduct and was demoted and sent to the borderlands, his family’s wealth confiscated. This misfortune, ascribed to the altered feng shui, occurred during the Qianlong Emperor’s reign.
An ancestral tomb altered, fortunes crumble
The art of feng shui, also known as the “Green Wutong Technique,” is often met with skepticism. However, some cases demonstrate its influence, depending on the practitioner’s skill. One notable story involves Zhu Wenzheng, whose ancestors were silk merchants in Zhejiang during the Ming Dynasty.
A feng shui master from Jiangxi, skilled but struggling to make a living, became neighbors with Zhu’s great-grandfather. Out of gratitude for Zhu’s kindness over the years, the master offered to find a burial site for Zhu’s ancestors, identifying a spot near Lugou West Town. Purchasing the land for a modest sum, the master planted an elm tree to mark the location, advising that future burials align symmetrically around the tree. He emphasized one crucial rule: “Never adorn the grave with elaborate structures such as mounds, stone arches, or shrines.”
Zhu’s descendants initially followed the master’s instructions. Zhu himself rose to prominence, joining the imperial cabinet, and the ancestral tomb remained a simple earthen grave surrounded by trees.
However, after Zhu’s death, his nephew, a provincial governor in Shandong, added a tiny mound behind the grave and painted a red sun on it. Shortly after, misfortune struck the family. Zhu’s son, a fourth-rank official, passed away, followed by his grandson before reaching 40. The nephew was dismissed from his position and exiled. Generations of high-ranking officials saw their lineage crumble.
Recognizing the cause, Zhu’s great-grandson secretly removed the added mound behind the tomb. Gradually, the family’s fortunes improved. He passed the local civil service exam and served as a county magistrate, restoring the family’s status over time.
Translated by Joseph Wu
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