Nury Vittachi: The Feng Shui Detective

Tran turned from the window and sat down again. ‘When they saw you this morning after you had spent one night with a Western woman, they were shocked. You looked very tired. “Close to death,” Brother Wasuran said. They saw how much energy had been drawn out of you, and were left with an extremely negative impression of the delights of a free life, of life with members of the opposite sex, in the world outside.’

‘I did not sleep much last night.’

‘This is what they assumed.’

‘No. I mean I did not sleep much last night because I was uncomfortable on the floor. Not because… Not because of anything else.’

‘It does not matter what the truth is. What matters is the effect of the truth. This is a Zen principle. If a non-truth has the effect of the truth, then maybe it has made its own truth. This is possible. Whatever happened, the result was that the brothers were shocked at the draining effect of what they saw as your sinful behaviour. They did not want to be like you and lose their life energy, and die young.’

‘I had no sleep last night, and I am an old man. I was born fifty-six years ago.’

‘Interesting. Be that as it may. To be frank, I told the brothers this morning that you were twenty-seven.’

‘I see.’ Wong nodded. Truly, the way of Zen was mysterious and impossible to fathom.

He put his papers in his bag. The geomancer was happy to feel they had helped the old man, although he was still unclear about precisely how they had done it. Never mind. The problem was solved, that was the main thing. Tomorrow would be a new day and a new challenge. He suddenly frowned. Unless they sent him to America, which would certainly be the end of life as he knew it. He decided then and there that he would simply refuse to go. Let Mr Pun take away his retainer, if he wanted. He glanced through the old man’s window and noticed the activity in the grounds.

‘What the brothers are doing?’ the geomancer asked.

‘They are all in front of the bo tree. We had a little miracle last night.’

‘A miracle.’

‘The oldest brother was praying at the eastern altar last night and a small but perfect imagine of the Buddha fell into his hands from the sky. It is small, but it is really quite a marvellous thing. Like a tiny picture, but also like a little round door to Nirvana. You can look deep into it and see the Buddha inside. The brothers are worshipping it.’

‘Understand.’

The honk of a car horn outside reminded him that Joyce and Bin were waiting in Porntip’s Nissan at the front door, ready to go to the airport. The sun had risen to the height of the temple walls and was beginning to shine into the office, its light dappled by the leaves of the bo tree.

NURY VITTACHI did not win the Vogel for his first novel, was not shortlisted for the Man Booker Prize with his subsequent books, and has never been nominated for a Nobel Prize for Literature. ‘I hope to make it a clean sweep by not winning the Pulitzer next year,’ the Hong Kong-based novelist said.