Feng Shui magic

Ye Mengyao stood behind Li Chengfeng, watching him bow and mutter reverently before Guo Pu's portrait. To her, the ritual seemed absurd—a grown man worshiping a painted relic. Yet the gravity in Li Chengfeng's movements held her silent, the plastic bag of Ye Wuming's hair and nails clutched tightly in her hand.

After finishing his prayers, Li Chengfeng turned to her, his expression solemn. "Hand me the bag."

Ye Mengyao passed it over, her curiosity burning. Inside were clipped fingernails and coarse black hairs—some plucked from a comb, others… *less savory*.

Li Chengfeng inspected the contents, a sly grin spreading. "Perfect. Now his birth chart."

Ye Mengyao scribbled the details on yellow talisman paper. "What curse will you use?"

"The **Yang-Shrinking Curse**," Li Chengfeng replied, his tone darkly amused.

"The *what*?"

"A forbidden art from the Song Dynasty." He arranged the hairs and nails into a small bundle. "It renders a man… *incapable*. Permanently."

Ye Mengyao's cheeks flushed. "You mean…?"

"Exactly. Like a eunuch."

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**Historical Context**

Li Chengfeng explained as he worked:

- **Origins**: During the Warring States period, the Yang-Shrinking Curse was used to "neutralize" male servants in royal harems without physical castration.

- **Decline**: Qin Shi Huang standardized physical castration for palace eunuchs, deeming it more reliable. The curse faded into obscurity, surviving only in clandestine texts.

- **Taboo**: By the Song Dynasty, the practice was banned as a "perversion of natural order."

Ye Mengyao listened, torn between fascination and disbelief. "You expect me to believe *hair and nails* can… *shrink* someone?"

Li Chengfeng smirked. "Watch and learn."

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**The Ritual**

From a storage chest, Li Chengfeng retrieved dried rice stalks—**roots intact**.

"Why rice stalks?" Ye Mengyao asked.

"Humans thrive on the **Five Grains**," he said, binding the stalks into a crude doll. "Their essence lingers in the roots. To mimic a person, the effigy must share this connection."

He inserted Ye Wuming's hair into the doll's "head," the nails into its "hands," and pinned the birth chart to its chest.

"Now," Li Chengfeng murmured, dipping a brush into cinnabar ink. "The **Three Yin Seals**."

He painted esoteric symbols on the doll's abdomen—each stroke crackling with intent.

Ye Mengyao shivered. The room felt colder.

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