Once the plane had climbed and leveled off, I eagerly took out the book my master had left me.
I opened the Tianyi Notes.
"Taoist cultivation rests on the principle that all existence arises from emptiness. The essence, qi, and spirit that truly exist within emptiness are the tangible reality of life."
"Life is a dual composite structure, combining the intangible essence, qi, and spirit with the tangible consciousness, blood, and flesh."
"Right awareness, right mindfulness, right conduct... can sustain, preserve, and enhance the vitality of essence, qi, and spirit... allowing one to truly enter their realm of substance without form..."
No wonder my master had told me to remember firmly that "the Tao and virtue are one." This was the foundation of everything.
I devoured the knowledge hungrily.
Time flew, and an announcement came over the speakers that the plane would soon be landing.
It was past nine in the evening. I looked out the window at the scattered lights dotting the dark night, as though proclaiming their prosperity.
After just a few hours in the air, I was still myself, yet somehow no longer the person I had been.
After getting off the plane and collecting my luggage, I called Uncle Feng's daughter.
Fortunately, I could still make calls directly with my Chinese phone number through international roaming.
She told me to wait for her at door 8 on the arrivals level of Terminal 3.
Singapore Changi Airport had been named the "world's best airport" many times. It was stylish and fantastical, and even had a large indoor park.
I had no time to admire it properly, though, and hurried off to find our meeting point.
But whom could I ask for directions? I looked around. There were blond-haired, blue-eyed, and dark-skinned people-people of every race.
Anyone who had just arrived, like me, would be no help.
Suddenly, I spotted someone distinctive in the crowd: a petite girl with yellow skin and black eyes.
Unlike the rest of us, she wasn't looking around in confusion. She was moving swiftly and purposefully in a particular direction.
She practically stirred up a breeze as she walked, zipping along.
Clearly, she knew the place well.
I strode over at once and asked politely, "Excuse me, miss. Could you tell me where door 8 is on the arrivals level of Terminal 3?"
She stopped and looked at me in confusion.
I repeated myself, but she still looked puzzled and said nothing.
Now it was my turn to be confused.
After all, my Mandarin had earned a First-Class Grade A certification. Surely my accent couldn't be so strong that she couldn't understand me.
The two of us stared at each other, one more bewildered than the other, neither knowing what the problem was.
After thinking for a moment, she smiled and said, "Sorry, I cannot understand Mandarin."
"Sorry, sorry," I apologized immediately, though I couldn't understand why she didn't understand Mandarin.
It wasn't until much, much later that I realized people with yellow skin and black eyes weren't necessarily Chinese.
People from many Southeast Asian countries looked similar. Of course, I didn't know any of that at the time.
After asking around again and again, I finally found door 8 and met up with her without a hitch.
This was my first time meeting Sister Feng.
She had fair, clear skin, an average build and height, and soft, long hair. Her sweet smile carried a hint of languid ease.
Thinking that she would be the benefactor who changed my fate, I couldn't help warming to her, and a natural sense of familiarity arose within me.
But during our casual greetings, I noticed pronounced lines beneath her eyes, along with a faint bluish-yellow tinge. My heart quietly sank.
My master's notes identified this area as the Children Palace. Features like these could affect childbearing and also foretold marital discord.
Could someone with such a radiant smile really face that kind of fate?
I pondered it silently.
Still, this was our first meeting, so I said nothing more.
As the car left the airport and sped toward the accommodation arranged for me in advance, I soon put that trace of doubt out of my mind.
Singapore truly deserved its title of "Garden City." Its beauty was hard to describe unless you had seen it yourself.
Clean, artistic, untamed...
Amid its magnificent modern splendor, you could still see nature's pure, wild vitality everywhere.
Singapore had a tropical rainforest climate. The towering roadside trees reached into the clouds, their trunks so thick that it would take several people joining arms to encircle them.
Their branches were also covered in all kinds of parasitic plants, like Christmas trees laden with gifts of life.
The Old Taoist had once said that Feng Shui was temperature and humidity-the essential conditions for all life.
The vitality and grandeur radiating from these plants proclaimed Singapore to be a superb site blessed with excellent Feng Shui.
It was no wonder Singapore was renowned worldwide for longevity, with an average life expectancy of over eighty-three and centenarians everywhere.
Apart from leaving for university, I had hardly ever ventured beyond my little hometown.
Now, surrounded by this developed country's dazzling lights and exuberant vitality, my thoughts surged as I imagined the brilliant future I might have here.
Before you continue