By Niu Yun, Ruinews
Prologue: A Seasonal Dislocation
Grain Rain has passed, and the Beginning of Summer approaches.
As the first heatwave swept through the streets of Beijing or Shanghai, Lin Qing (a pseudonym) pushed open her window and suddenly realized the temperature outside was already that of summer.
As a professional tarot card consultant with a “small reputation” on social media platforms, Lin Qing’s schedule knows no seasons, only cases.
Her phone’s backend is a never-extinguishing black hole, devouring thousands of private messages filled with disappointment, anger, and despair. Until three days ago, when the platform’s ban notification fell like an icy gate, forcibly severing her link to that world.
In that moment of helpless confusion, she was shocked to realize: in her busyness, she had forgotten that spring had come and winter had gone.
5000 Cases: The Empath’s “Life Sentence”
In Lin Qing’s career plan, 5000 consultation cases were meant to be a full stop. She had promised herself that upon reaching this number, she would take a complete break to mend her heart, long exhausted to the point of collapse.
However, as a typical INFJ (Advocate) personality, Lin Qing found herself trapped in an inescapable paradox: her extreme empathy was both her livelihood and her shackles.
“I simply cannot choose to ignore those who desperately need me,” Lin Qing wrote in a social media post, at a time when she had already forced herself to take on over a hundred more cases.
These cases were no longer simple fortune-telling; they were matters of grave human suffering: a young person lingering on a midnight rooftop, a desperate individual holding a blood-stained blade, souls suffocating in the ruins of marriage.
Waking up every morning and inevitably crying had become her physiological stress response. It was her body crying out for her soul, reminding her: The cost of carrying others’ hopes for a fresh start was her own fragmentation.
A Mortal Body Beneath the “Fairy” Shell
In the words of her clients, Lin Qing is a “fairy,” a “redeeming angel,” an oracle who can see through the mists of fate. This sanctifying label, under the magnifying glass of the internet, is both a source of traffic and the most insidious form of violence.
“But I know myself, I am just flesh and blood,” Lin Qing’s words conveyed a clarity bordering on self-mockery.
In her consultation room, she guides clients away from various “battlefields” — partings by death, betrayals and deceptions, bankruptcy and debt.
Behind her professional mask, she grew accustomed to silence, to not complaining. But the law of conservation of negative energy never failed: the bullets she blocked for others ultimately embedded themselves in her own flesh and blood.
The counselor’s professionalism became an isolated island. The person on the island was saving others, but no one could come ashore to save her.
The Platform’s Iron Fist, or Heaven’s “Protective Mechanism”
This 15-day ban not only meant a major demerit from the platform and the forfeiture of a significant income, but also foreshadowed limited reach and reduced visibility upon reinstatement. For a professional consultant reliant on private traffic and account authority, this was almost a career “stroke.”
For the first two days, Lin Qing was consumed by immense guilt. The incessantly flashing “bombardment” of messages in her backend nearly suffocated her — clients who depended on her guidance faced emotional collapse due to her sudden “disappearance.” She wept over this, feeling she had deserted her post.
But by the third day, a sense of fate quieted her.
This forced 15-day departure felt more like a form of “divine intervention.” If not for the platform’s cold punishment, she might have continued running on that conveyor belt named “redemption” until completely drained.
“All of this is karma,” she wrote. “Some things I am destined not to change.”
The Deep-Seated Dilemma Behind the Industry
Lin Qing’s experience is not an isolated case. In contemporary cities, professional consultants are playing the role of “informal psychotherapists.”
Blurred Professional Ethics: They handle more direct and severe negative emotions than psychotherapists, yet lack professional supervision mechanisms and self-protection, remaining on the margins of societal care.
Algorithmic Exploitation: The traffic anxiety imposed by social platforms forces them to maintain high-frequency updates and high response rates, making “rest” a form of professional suicide.
Identity Dislocation: They walk the line between law and ethics, bearing the moral burden of saving others while facing the constant threat of违规 penalties and bans.
Epilogue: Letting the Soul Catch Up with the Body
The 15-day ban period continues. For Lin Qing, it is an expensive and painful detox.
She has begun trying to live like an ordinary person: feeling the summer heat, observing the process of flowers blooming, no longer dwelling on the cries behind that number 5000.
In this fast-food era, we are accustomed to seeking “deities” to show us the way, forgetting that those who hold the lamp in the dark night also need a lamp of their own.
Lin Qing has finally understood that before attempting to help others be reborn, she must first allow herself to be a mortal who can feel pain, get tired, and sometimes disappear.
Today’s Interaction:
What are your thoughts on the emotional labor and professional boundaries of consultation-based influencers? Feel free to share your views in the comments section.
