The Calculation of Fate: Karma, Merit, and the Man Mo Oracle.

It is Monday, the 27th of April. After the secular roar of the Rugby Sevens and the visceral energy of the stadium, I find myself seeking the quiet incense smoke of the past. To consult for Hollywood on the “Echoes of Empire,” one must understand not only the history of our streets but the metaphysical architecture that governs the lives within them. Today, I wish to discuss my connection with an icon of our heritage: the Man Mo Temple, and the profound, often misunderstood practice of Fate Calculation (算命, syun3 meng6).

My history with Man Mo Temple—dedicated to the civil and martial deities—dates back to 2007, a pivotal year when I prepared to leave the familiarity of Hong Kong for university in Durham. It was there I met Master Ajax Ho, and later, my confidante Ruby Tang.

I must confess, I cringe at the English translation of “fortune teller” for the Chinese syun3 meng6 si1. To “calculate fate” is a far more precise description. Unlike the Western or Christian interpretation where destiny is a fixed script written by a singular deity, Chinese cosmology—deeply rooted in Buddhist philosophy—views Fate as a framework determined by one’s karma.

While the “basic framework” is largely set—the family we are born into, our sex, our innate tendencies—one is never a prisoner of destiny. We can improve our lot by accruing merit. By performing intentionally good deeds, thinking intentionally good thoughts, and speaking well of others, we plant the seeds for a different harvest. Syun3 meng6 is the act of opening the birth chart (calculated using the exact hour and date of birth) to see the life path as it currently stands. Masters like Ajax Ho are not just “seers”; they are counselors and advisors who provide the “Quiet Majesty” of clarity for major life decisions, from education to business ventures.

As Master Ho was attached to Man Mo Temple, he was an expert in the interpretation of Guanyin Oracle Slips (籤, cim1). There is a tactical beauty in this system: 100 wooden slips, each corresponding to a story from Chinese history or mythology, graded as “Good” (上), “Middle” (中), or “Bad” (下). The Master’s role is to interpret these ancient narratives against the client’s modern struggle.

However, since the era of COVID-19, Master Ho has left the temple, and with him, one of my primary reasons for visiting the Sheung Wan landmark. As a major tourist attraction, Man Mo is often crowded with the “noise” of the secular world. When I seek true spiritual mindfulness, I now find myself drifting toward a lesser-known Guanyin Temple in Kowloon. It is quieter, less occupied by the tourist lens, and provides a superior environment to kneel and petition the Bodhisattva of Compassion.

This practice of Fate Calculation belongs to the realm of Chinese folk religion, a fascinating confluence that draws from the “Big Three”:

Technically, the only threads connecting our lives are karma and merit. In our cosmology—which is very Buddhist-coded—the soul faces judgment and “sorting” after death, much like the Greek concepts of Tartarus and Elysium. However, in our view, neither Heaven nor Hell is eternal. Both are simply stations within the Six Realms of Transmigration, and both contain subtle forms of suffering.

As I continue my journey to become a producer and consultant, I recognize that these “Fate Calculations” are essential data points. To tell a “rags-to-riches” story inspired by Sir Robert Hotung, one must understand how a person of that era would have viewed their own luck and merit. They would have visited temples like Man Mo to seek a “second chance” from the gods.

While I remain familiar with the halls of Man Mo, it is the quiet of the Kowloon temple where I now go to “step back and breathe.” It is there that I collate my scattered thoughts into a cohesive whole, ensuring that my own “Fate” as a producer is built on a foundation of merit and precision.

The fire within me burns steady, fueled by the incense of the past and the vision of the future.

Until the wind shifts again.

— Zephyr Chan