Feng Shui Assassin

In my third year as a secretary, my boss died in his own office. The police called it an accident, but I knew it wasn't. The potted plant that should have been in the Xun position had been moved to the Li position, the paperweight on the desk was placed at the wrong hour, and even the sky-cutting sha outside the window had been deliberately activated—this was murder, a trap set with feng shui. My new identity was forced into the open: former heir of a metaphysical family, who had hidden her name and become a secretary to avoid using feng shui to harm others. The detective in charge of the case didn't believe in ghosts or gods, but he couldn't solve the case. He stared at me and asked, "How many more secrets are you hiding?" I opened my boss's schedule from three days before his death, pointed to an entry, and said, "The murderer is in this building."