766.fortune teller
If he had met a Daoist, he would have wanted to ask for a fortune or inquire about his destiny. But in the end, he didn't do either. Zhang Zhiqian, treating him as a senior, kept asking and answering questions, leaving no room for the small amusement Park Seong-jin had subtly hoped for. The Daoist had no time for fortune-telling, and without any leisure to speak of destiny, he focused entirely on probing the truth and falsehoods of the study.
Looking back, it may have been unnecessary, but the new year had arrived, and he still hadn't seen a fortune. He briefly considered visiting any fortune teller on the street but stopped, afraid he might run into someone he knew. Instead, he returned to his quarters and threw himself onto the cot, staring up at the ceiling in thought.
He thought to himself, I don't think I can teach people. I'm a failure at it. The more he spoke, the more his explanations went in circles, and the listeners only nodded without making any progress. Even the martial artists staying near his home worked hard. They sweated and stayed up all night, but no matter how much he taught them, no noticeable changes appeared in their practice.
Suddenly, he felt he had been too quick to criticize the elders of Quanzhen. Perhaps they had done all they could with what they had. That night, Park Seong-jin made a decision. No more teaching. If needed, I'll speak, but I won't push anyone forward.
Just as he was about to drift off to sleep, a sound came from outside the tent.
"Are you here?"
It was Zhang Zhiqian's voice. Park Seong-jin sat up. He thought once he entered Beijing, things would be busier, but Zhang Zhiqian had finished his business and hurried over with urgency. Dust from the city still clung to his clothes.
"So late?" Park Seong-jin asked.
"Yes." Zhang Zhiqian paused for a moment before adding, "I had something I wanted to say."
Park Seong-jin had introduced him to the troops and brought him to his tent. He poured tea and asked, "Please, tell me my fortune for this year."
Zhang Zhiqian hesitated for a moment, then, as if it was an awkward request, said, "Your… fortune, senior?"
Park Seong-jin smiled sheepishly, and Zhang Zhiqian continued, "Now, at this time?"
"It's because of now. Although the new year has passed, I still haven't seen a fortune."
Zhang Zhiqian sat properly. This time, he wasn't a master or a sect head—just a fortune-teller. He took out an old bamboo divining stick from his pocket. It wasn't shiny or mysterious. It was a tool long familiar to his hands.
"I won't ask about your birth year. You are no one to be measured by such things."
He closed his eyes for a moment, took a deep breath, and slowly cast the divining sticks. Inside the tent, the air was still. Outside, the sounds of soldiers' footsteps were audible, but inside, there was a strangely quiet energy.
Zhang Zhiqian gazed down at the divining sticks and then lifted his head. He already knew the outcome.
"It's Fu (復)."
Park Seong-jin looked up. "Does that mean return, a return of what was lost?"
"Exactly," Zhang Zhiqian nodded. "But it is often misunderstood."
He placed the divining sticks lightly on the table.
"Fu doesn't mean returning after failure, nor does it mean reclaiming what was lost."
Zhang Zhiqian continued speaking in a quiet voice.
"Fu is a step that naturally returns when you can go no further."
"In the I Ching, it is said: 一陽來復, 'A single yang returns.'"
"It's not the hexagram for when everything has collapsed and heaven reaches out its hand."
"It's the moment when the smallest remaining truth starts to move again, after you have let everything fall apart."
Park Seong-jin listened in silence.
"The most important thing about Fu is this," Zhang Zhiqian slowly recited, one word at a time.
不遠復 — "It doesn't go far before it returns."
"It means 'It's a path you've already walked.'"
"Senior, you don't need to return at all."
"You are already standing where you've already been."
Park Seong-jin asked, "Is it good or bad?"
Zhang Zhiqian smiled. It was a faint smile.
"Fu doesn't ask if something is good or bad."
"Nothing has started yet," he added. "The movement of Fu is quiet. It doesn't seek to make great plans, nor does it push forward."
"It only puts things right."
Zhang Zhiqian looked directly at Park Seong-jin.
"Anyone who receives Fu as a hexagram must not harbor new ambitions or cling to old names."
"What should one do, then?"
"Do nothing."
"A person with the Fu hexagram doesn't set out to change the world."
"Yet, from the place where that person stands, the world returns to its own course."
"Without forcing, people and events will find their rightful places."
Zhang Zhiqian added one last thought.
"That's why Fu is the hexagram of the gentleman."
"It is neither the hexagram of a hero nor that of a loser."
"It is the hexagram for one who has already gone around in circles and no longer needs to move."
Park Seong-jin was silent for a while. This time, it wasn't familiarity, but quiet acceptance.
"I like this."
Zhang Zhiqian bowed his head.
"It's not about fortune-telling. It's simply telling you where you are."
"Fortune-telling can reveal a person's nature or fate, but in the end, it's about the circumstances of the moment."
Park Seong-jin heard his fortune for the first time that night, and he did not give it any more thought. He didn't ask about the road ahead, nor did he feel any need to look back.
He had already returned.
And the Fu hexagram had only quietly confirmed that fact.
---*
Park Seong-jin spoke first, "But why did you come again?"
It was a question, but there was no surprise in his tone. It was as if he already knew the person would come.
"I greeted the Great Khan," Zhang Zhiqian said. He paused before adding, "I met with several officials and asked about the affairs."
"I thought you were supposed to go to the palace."
"I did. But I refused."
Park Seong-jin finally lifted his head. "Why?"
"I want to stay by your side, senior. Please permit me."
A brief silence followed. Park Seong-jin laughed. It felt awkward and uncomfortable for someone twice his age to call him "senior," and now he was saying he would pitch his tent right beside him.
"Ah, ah, I need time for myself too."
"I won't bother you," Zhang Zhiqian said.
With a deep sigh, Park Seong-jin said, "You've already done quite a lot."
Zhang Zhiqian paused for a moment. "You've had quite a grand feast," he said.
Park Seong-jin was silent for a while. "You mean the Empress. I couldn't just sit and be attacked when they came for me."
"That, too, is a matter of cause and effect."
Park Seong-jin nodded. "That's cause and effect, and it will lead to another cause and effect. But if it's fate, I won't run from it."
At that moment, a low and cautious voice followed.
"Senior, you view cause and effect too rigidly."
"Is it wrong to view it rigidly?"
"It's not wrong, but... it's narrow-minded."
"...Narrow-minded?"
"Yes. It's because you're young."
Park Seong-jin scoffed. "Are you talking about my age now?"
"It's not about age, it's about experience."
His voice was calm.
"You've lived with strong will, senior. That was necessary in your time."
"Does that mean it's different now?"
"It's different now. You've already surpassed it. But you're still living with the mindset of the old times."
Park Seong-jin sighed. "...So?"
"That's why I should stay by your side."
"What are you talking about?"
"I'll handle the small matters of the world. I'll inquire about the reasons and handle them with flexibility."
"I've never relied on anyone."
"That's exactly why."
A silence fell. Breaking it, Park Seong-jin said, "Only during the kurultai."
"That's enough," Zhang Zhiqian replied.
"Then we'll set up our tent near the army's tent."
"Don't make it too noisy."
"Of course. It will probably be unnoticeable."
"And... will you really not bother me?"
"I won't speak until you call for me."
Park Seong-jin laughed briefly. "Ha."
"We'll call a manager and set up the tent."
"Don't make it too close."
"Would ten tents be enough?"
"Ten is too close, but it should be fine."
"After the kurultai, we'll go our separate ways."
"Yes. I'll stay by your side until then."
So, the tent of the Quanzhen Daoists was set up about ten tents away from the Goryeo army's. It was a distance neither too close nor too far—a gap that, even if they tried not to notice each other, would still inevitably be felt.