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Wang Bo also slammed his hand on the table, instantly stunning the waiter. The surrounding diners all turned their heads, curious about what trick this beggar was playing.

Without hesitation, Wang Bo reached into his pocket, fumbled for a moment, then pulled out half a string of copper coins. He waved them before the waiter’s eyes, a triumphant look on his face. “I’m in a good mood today. I won’t stoop to the level of a mere waiter. Prepare some fine wine and delicious dishes for me at once.”

Seeing the half-string of copper coins, the waiter immediately restored his cheerful smile. His stiffened posture from earlier anger softened instantly.

“Sir, please don’t be angry. Don’t compare me, a humble waiter, with you. Please, come inside,” the waiter said, ushering Wang Bo into the restaurant.

Wang Bo entered, chose a seat by the window, ordered some meat and fine wine, and prepared to eat.

Just as he was about to start, there was movement at the door. An old beggar entered the restaurant.

The waiter’s expression immediately soured upon seeing another beggar come in. Could it be fate with beggars today? They had already let two in. Following Wang Bo’s precedent, the waiter dared not be rude and approached with a flattering smile.

The beggar glanced around briefly and then headed straight to Wang Bo’s table. Not only did he come over, he sat down without hesitation, assuming the air of a host, prompting the waiter to bring over more dishes.

Wang Bo was dumbfounded by this sudden development. His mind felt overwhelmed. “Who is this old beggar? Why is he sitting down and eating my food?”

“Why don’t you eat then?” the old beggar said after eating for a while, noticing Wang Bo’s silence.

The beggar’s remark snapped Wang Bo back to reality. Looking down, he saw that the old man had devoured most of the food on the table. Without further thought, Wang Bo began to eat ravenously himself.

After eating his fill, Wang Bo patted his belly contentedly and stretched lazily. The old beggar opposite him mirrored his movements exactly.

Only then did Wang Bo take a closer look at the old beggar across from him.

Judging by appearances, calling him a beggar seemed a stretch. The old man’s clothes were dirty and his hair unkempt, but his face and hands were surprisingly clean, far neater than Wang Bo’s own travel-worn state.

Noticing Wang Bo’s scrutiny, the old man blushed slightly and quickly stood up, bowing in thanks. “Thank you for your hospitality, young sir. I am Zuo Ci, much obliged.”

“Zuo Ci?” Wang Bo’s eyes widened as he stared at the old man, utterly shocked. “Zuo Ci as a beggar? No, this beggar *is* Zuo Ci.” His thoughts were in turmoil, unsure how to speak.

“Could it be that you know me, young friend?” Zuo Ci looked puzzled at Wang Bo’s stunned expression. He did not understand that his name carried such weight as to frighten this young man.

Zuo Ci had no idea that in the later ages, his name was renowned. In future understanding, Zuo Ci was considered a legendary immortal from the Three Kingdoms era.

“My young friend, my young friend,” Zuo Ci waved his hand, beckoning Wang Bo.

“Ah,” Wang Bo returned to himself but still stared at Zuo Ci in amazement. This was the second historical figure he had encountered since arriving in the Three Kingdoms, and such a famous immortal at that. How could he not be excited? Wang Bo had never believed in magic or immortals before, but since his time travel, he had developed a faint belief in such things. Though outwardly skeptical, he dared not speak of it lightly. Seeing Zuo Ci in the flesh confirmed that this figure was real and powerful beyond doubt.

“So it is the immortal Zuo Ci,” Wang Bo hurriedly rose and bowed.

“Immortal, immortal — I am but a down-and-out alchemist. Even this meal was free,” Zuo Ci chuckled, shaking his head in self-deprecation.

“An immortal's methods are unfathomable, beyond one like me,” he added with a smile.

“Heh,” Zuo Ci laughed lightly, then said, “Young friend, do not flatter me. Earthly titles mean little. I have dined thanks to you, and so I will read your fortune as a token of fate.”

“Zuo Ci wants to read my fortune? Should I accept or not?” Wang Bo hesitated. Before he could decide, Zuo Ci had already produced a turtle shell and, looking at Wang Bo, somewhat embarrassedly said, “Could you lend me six copper coins, young friend?”

Wang Bo felt a wave of exasperation. Glancing at Zuo Ci, he wondered silently, “Is this really Zuo Ci?” Despite his doubts, under Zuo Ci’s eager gaze, Wang Bo handed over six copper coins.

Zuo Ci took three coins, muttered some incomprehensible words, then placed the coins inside the shell. Muttering as he shook the shell up and down, his devout demeanor resembled that of a true master.

After some shaking, Zuo Ci stopped, poured out the coins, and lined them up.

“This, this…” Zuo Ci stared at the six coins on the table, shaking his head in silence for a long moment.

“This is very strange. This is the first time I’ve seen such a peculiar hexagram,” he suddenly said as Wang Bo dozed off, waiting.

Wang Bo instantly perked up, dispelling his drowsiness, and asked eagerly, “Master, what does it mean?”

“This hexagram is indeed odd.” Zuo Ci looked up, studying Wang Bo carefully.

Gazing into Zuo Ci’s clear eyes, an inexplicable fear rose within Wang Bo.

“According to the hexagram, you should already be dead — a long-deceased man. Yet here you sit alive before me, and you have fed me. Don’t you find that strange?” Zuo Ci smiled knowingly, his thoughts unreadable.

Wang Bo gasped sharply, feeling as if plunged into an ice cellar, chilled to the bone. Zuo Ci’s words were no exaggeration; if not for Wang Bo’s accidental time travel, he would indeed be a corpse in this era. Who would believe such a thing? Yet Zuo Ci divined it, filling Wang Bo with dread and awe. He realized then that Zuo Ci was genuine and powerful.

“Heh,” Zuo Ci chuckled and suggested, “Perhaps I am old and my readings are inaccurate. Let me try again.” Seeing Wang Bo’s fearful expression, he hastily cast a second hexagram.

Wang Bo was still stunned, unsure what to do, while Zuo Ci prepared the second reading. Upon seeing the new hexagram, Zuo Ci was once again shocked. Even his years of calm experience could not prevent a ripple of emotion.

“How can this be?” Zuo Ci shook his head.

“And the result?” Wang Bo asked anxiously.

“Your fate is truly unusual,” Zuo Ci said.

“How so?” Wang Bo pressed.

Pointing at the coins, Zuo Ci explained, “According to the surface meaning of the hexagram, you are not from here.”

“That’s correct; I am from Zhen Ding in Changshan,” Wang Bo replied nonchalantly.

“No, no, that’s not what I mean,” Zuo Ci quickly shook his head, refuting Wang Bo’s interpretation.

“Then what do you mean?” Wang Bo asked, puzzled.

“I mean you are not from *this* place,” Zuo Ci emphasized the word ‘this.’

“Oh,” Wang Bo finally understood the true meaning. “If you’re joking, where else could I be from?”

“That is a mystery to me as well,” Zuo Ci admitted.

Wang Bo’s astonishment deepened, staring at Zuo Ci as if he were a monster.

“Heh,” Zuo Ci smiled awkwardly, somewhat embarrassed. “This one doesn’t count; let me try a third time.” Having eaten at someone’s expense, he was determined to give a proper reading. The previous readings were all confusing nonsense, making his cheeks flush.

He busied himself with a third casting. Seeing the hexagram, he wiped sweat from his brow and sighed in relief. “This one is finally normal.”

“You should head south on your journey,” Zuo Ci declared.

“That’s right,” Wang Bo nodded. He trusted Zuo Ci completely now. What seemed strange to others was perfectly clear to him.

“Then I must congratulate you, young friend.” With that, Zuo Ci bowed to Wang Bo.

“Master, please tell me more,” Wang Bo responded quickly.

“According to the hexagram, your decision to head south is correct. In the future, you will rise to high office, achieve great success — this is no mere empty talk. I offer my congratulations,” Zuo Ci said calmly. He showed no surprise at Wang Bo’s destined rise.

“Master, you must be joking. As I am now, just having enough to eat is a struggle, let alone rising to high office,” Wang Bo shook his head, self-mocking. Zuo Ci’s lack of surprise didn’t mean Wang Bo felt any less amazed. How could he know to go south? Coupled with Zuo Ci’s earlier behavior, Wang Bo’s thoughts stirred.

“Heh, my young friend, do not mock yourself. Whether you believe this is up to you. Well, I have eaten, I have read your fortune. It is time for me to leave,” Zuo Ci said, standing and turning to go.

“Ah, wait.” Suddenly remembering something, Zuo Ci reached into his chest and pulled out two books. They were indeed books—not bamboo slips—but bound on both sides with what looked like animal hide or leather, definitely not paper.

He turned and handed the books to Wang Bo. “We are fated, young friend. Consider these two books a gift from me. I hope you will study them diligently and not let me down.”

Before Wang Bo could react, Zuo Ci stepped out of the restaurant. When Wang Bo hurried after him, he found only the bustling street; Zuo Ci had vanished without a trace.

Looking down at the strange books in his hands, Wang Bo felt the opportunity was as baffling as ever. Unable to find Zuo Ci again, he gave up, returned to the restaurant, packed up, paid his bill, and left in a hurry.

On the road, Wang Bo opened one book to study but was shocked to find a picture that made his face flush.

“What is this?” he muttered, wanting to discard the book but reluctant to disrespect Zuo Ci. He packed it away with a conflicted expression and opened the other.

“Hopefully this one is different,” Wang Bo murmured as he turned the pages. Soon he saw four large characters: “Qi Men Dun Jia.”

Qi Men Dun Jia was well-known to any Chinese person. This mystical text was the highest form of divination derived from the Book of Changes, known as the “Science of Emperors” and the art of harnessing the forces of heaven and earth. Legends said it was a cultivation technique. In any case, it was a book of great mystique.

Surprised to find it here, Wang Bo read cautiously. But after a short while, his head spun and his eyes grew heavy. The dense, dry language overwhelmed him. Forcing himself to read a few more lines, he finally lost patience and threw the book to the ground.

“What kind of nonsense is this?” Wang Bo shouted, holding Qi Men Dun Jia aloft, clearly losing interest.

“Forget it, I’ll come back to it later,” he said, picking up the book, dusting it off, and carefully placing it back in his pack. From then on, Wang Bo lost interest in both books from Zuo Ci.

Shaking his head and pushing unrelated thoughts aside, Wang Bo resumed his journey south.

Not long after Wang Bo left, Zuo Ci appeared where Wang Bo had last seen him. Hands clasped behind his back, he watched Wang Bo’s retreating figure and muttered, “I hope this youth does not disappoint my goodwill.” With that, Zuo Ci chose a direction and drifted away.

“Ah, Yellow River, you are all water; ah, steed, you have four legs,” a ragged beggar stood on the Yellow River’s bank, gazing at the mighty river with endless emotion. Besides our friend Wang Bo, who else could possibly come up with such a verse at the start of the year?

Leaving Ye City behind, Wang Bo traveled southward. After a long trek, he finally saw the Yellow River—the mother river of China.

Looking upon the surging waters of the Yellow River, Wang Bo was filled with emotion. He had seen the Yellow River in later times, but back then, it was a pitiful sight—dried riverbeds, calm waters—nothing like the grandeur and turbulence before him now.

Unable to contain his excitement, Wang Bo spontaneously recited a timeless verse from the future. Afterward, he nodded proudly to himself, boasting, “Good and wet, very wet.”

Luckily, no one was nearby. Otherwise, Wang Bo might have been kicked into the river to feed the fish.

After his reverie, Wang Bo needed to find a ferry crossing. Yet he was at a loss, uncertain whether to head east or west. Faced with such a fork, he hesitated.

“Better to go west first; if I can’t find the ferry, I’ll return,” he decided, following the riverbank westward.

As effort rewards the diligent, Wang Bo soon spotted a small village. His heart leapt, and he quickened his pace. But upon nearing, he realized the village seemed abandoned—withered and desolate, with no signs of inhabitants. Nonetheless, Wang Bo pressed on, stepping inside.