The Feng Shui Detective Goes South Read Free Page B

cannot be undone. To make sure an old tradition retains its power, change it.
    From ‘Some Gleanings of Oriental Wisdom’
by CF Wong , part 342

    CF Wong blew on the paper to dry the ink. He was at his desk, writing in his journal. The chapter on which he was working was a series of anecdotes from the sages on the subject of ingenious solutions to unusual problems. From time to time, he looked up and stared out of the window. It was morning in the Singapore financial district.
    During rush hour the constant background grumble from the vehicles on Church Street and Cross Street turned into a pained roar. Double-decker buses would grind their engines as they lumbered along, consuming the road in jerky, stop-start mouthfuls. Many vehicles existed in a permanently overheated state, whirring noises from their automatic cooling systems adding a high-pitched shriek to the massed mechanical choir. Taxis, attempting to cut from lane to lane, would inevitably find themselves wedged over dividing lines, their engines shivering and drivers yawning.
    Providing contrast was a smattering of private cars, inevitably German, ferrying wealthier executives to their offices. The luxuriousness of these late-model limousines contrasted dramatically with the austerity of the other main group of minority road users: loose-skinned elderly men in dirty singlets cycling with baskets of flapping fish for factory canteen lunches.
    Every two minutes or so, there was a periodic rise in the sound level as green traffic lights unleashed more vehicles from side roads into the already jammed main thoroughfare. The racket would grow into a hellish cacophony that made pedestrian conversation difficult. Occasionally, there would be a break in the rhythm as the ticka-ticka-ticka sound of pedestrian signals added a light counterpoint to the general low-pitched rumble of the road.
    The structure of the central business district of Singapore, as a series of steep glass canyons, meant that the morning arrived in waves. Some junctions quickly turned into suntraps, bathed in bright, yellow heat, while the areas around them remained misty, receiving only diffused light from pale stone-and-glass buildings. The taller mirror-walled skyscrapers, backlit by the strengthening day, would be visible only as gray silhouettes until at least ten o’clock. That was the time when most people had arrived at their offices, and peace, relatively speaking, returned to the streets of the Lion City.

    During the time of the northern Song Dynasty, 960 to 1279, two royal families fought over property. Each had a share of a great inheritance.
    One of the princes went to Prime Minister Zhang Qixian and said: ‘ My brother ’ s share is bigger than mine. I have a list of what I have. It proves what I am saying is true.
    ’ But the man ’ s brother also went to Prime Minister Zhang Qixian. He said: ‘ The opposite is true. My brother ’ s proportion is bigger than mine. I have a list of my possessions. It proves what I am saying is true.
    ’ Zhang Qixian took the two lists to examine and compare.
    The fighting brothers waited and watched.
    Then Zhang scratched out the names at the bottom of each scroll. He replaced each name with the name of the other brother.
    He gave the lists back. He said to the first brother: ‘ Now you have more than your brother. ’ And he said to the second brother: ‘ And you have more than yours.
    ’ If you can win a battle by accepting your enemy ’ s arrows, Blade of Grass, your victory will be untouchable from any side.
    From ‘Some Gleanings of Oriental Wisdom’
by CF Wong , part 343

    He wrote feverishly, knowing that moments of creative tranquility within the Telok Ayer Street offices of CF Wong & Associates were rare and inevitably fleeting. Glancing at his watch, he saw that it was one minute past ten o’clock. He had been working quietly alone for almost three hours. How kind the gods were, to bless him with staff who were always late! Long