last July, Ms. Li storms into our studio, mascara streaked. "I lost the contract on the subway!" she wails. "If it’s gone, my job’s gone!" My master calmly shakes his copper coins. *Clatter, clatter*. "Hexagram says: ‘Lost near water. Wait, it returns.’" She nearly screams: "Water? It’s a *subway*! Your coins lied!"

Dejected, she trudges back to the station. As she passes a restroom, a cleaner waves a folder: "Miss! This yours? Fell near the sink. Got soaked by AC drip—I blow-dried it!" Ms. Li freezes. The "water" in the divination... was *condensation*! She returns sheepishly. My master grins: "Divination’s like a text from the universe—short, cryptic, but deadly accurate. You assumed ‘water’ meant rivers? Nah. Sometimes..." he taps an AC vent, "...it’s just a sneaky drip

My buddy Liu’s office had a curse: projects kept freezing. A feng shui master visits, scans the room, and *jabs a finger at the printer*. "Disaster!" he declares. "That paper mountain blocks your door’s energy! Move it northwest—add a green plant." Liu scoffs: "Superstitious mumbo jumbo!"

But his earnest intern mishears "move it" as "*clean* it." While hauling the printer, she excavates three forgotten contracts buried since spring! Liu signs them *that afternoon*—cashing in huge commissions. At the celebration, the master roars with laughter: "No ‘evil energy’ here! Just *human clutter*. Feng shui?" He winks. "It’s a sneaky nudge to fix what you ignore." Liu toasts him, flushed: "You’re not a master—you’re a cleanup wizard!" Cue exploding laughter.