I picked up the crying Bai Yueming and ran out through a door at the back of the temple. Staggering as I walked, I nearly fell to the ground, my mind in a daze. After stumbling a few steps out of the temple, I finally felt the weight on my body lessen.
The cool breeze blowing against my face cleared my head a little.
Bai Yueming, cradled in my arms, had already opened his eyes. He seemed to grow faster than children raised on milk. When he saw me, he seemed to recognize me as someone from his homeland and stopped crying.
A few monks chased after me from behind, but I didn’t dare linger. Zuo Shan had been bitten by the jade ruler, which would keep him occupied for a while. Zeng Jie, busy tending to Zuo Shan, wouldn’t be able to pursue me immediately.
As long as Zeng Jie didn’t come after me, I wasn’t afraid.
Having spent nearly two hours in the temple, it was already afternoon. I glanced around, looking for an opportunity to slip out unnoticed. But if I left recklessly, A Tian or the police might be waiting for me outside.
Suddenly, a wave of nausea rose in my throat. I turned and ducked into a restroom. Gagging, I vomited twice, and as my blood churned, two spiders poked their heads out. I flushed them down the toilet. Once they were gone, I felt a sudden lightness, and my mind cleared.
I pulled out a fresh set of clothes from my bag, changed, and tied the old clothes into a knot. I wrapped Bai Yueming against my chest, slung my small bag under my arm, secured the jade ruler, and drew my dagger. If A Tian came for me, I wouldn’t go down without a fight.
As soon as I stepped out, I was met with the sight of a stunning young woman with a voluptuous figure touching up her makeup—especially those ample bosoms, at least a D-cup, swaying temptingly.
Had I been so dazed that I’d wandered into the wrong restroom? I glanced back inside—it was definitely the men’s room.
The woman took a few steps forward, stood in front of the urinal, and began relieving herself…
Damn, I almost forgot I was in Thailand…
I kept my head low and hurried out of the temple. At the entrance, police officers stood guard, along with three effeminate young monks, scrutinizing everyone who passed.
Spotting Qi Qiqi from a distance, I called out angrily, “Hey, mother! The baby needs milk—where the hell have you been hiding?”
Qi Qiqi froze for a moment, her face flushing red. Unmarried, she was suddenly confronted with a “husband” and a baby, leaving her utterly bewildered.
But when she saw the look in my eyes, she seemed to understand. “Husband! Where have you been? I’ve been looking everywhere for you…” She rushed forward, playfully hitting me with her delicate fists, her eyes brimming with tears.
Looking at the baby in my arms, she feigned maternal concern perfectly.
Just then, a fleet of Thai-style motorcycles pulled up at the gate. A Tian was the first to jump off, followed by a dozen muscular Muay Thai fighters—his underground boxing buddies—spreading out to search.
Qi Qiqi looped her arm through mine and handed me her sunglasses.
The temple grounds were bustling with vendors hawking all sorts of Thai handicrafts, their sharp eyes scanning the crowd for potential customers.
Qi Qiqi pulled me over to one of the stalls, crouching down. “What should we get for the baby?”
I kept my head low, watching my surroundings. Zeng Jie, having settled the injured Zuo Shan, had also emerged from the temple. But he assumed I’d already left, so he strode straight out, unaware I was still inside.
The most dangerous place is often the safest. With Qi Qiqi’s cover, we looked like just another ordinary Chinese couple visiting a Thai temple with their child.
The vendor enthusiastically recommended two amulets, promising they’d bring the baby good luck and lifelong safety.
A Tian and Zeng Jie were operating separately—while Zeng Jie had left the temple, A Tian and his men were now searching inside. They’d find me soon.
I whispered, “We need to go. They’ll be here any second.”
Qi Qiqi smirked mysteriously. “Just wait a bit. Do you have money on you?”
I nodded. Wu Tieqing’s 50,000 yuan was still untouched in my bag.
“Get ready to scatter it…”
Suddenly, Qi Qiqi started arguing with the vendor, raising her voice. “You’re lying! This amulet isn’t even blessed by a monk, and you want 10,000 baht for it?”
The vendors nearby, all in cahoots, immediately closed in. “Hey, watch your mouth! We’re honest merchants!”
A Tian, hearing the commotion, approached to see what was happening. With my sunglasses and the baby, he didn’t recognize me.
I quietly tightened my grip on two thick stacks of red bills…
Qi Qiqi, hands on her hips, shouted, “Police! They stole from me!”
Then she pointed at A Tian. “He’s here!”
A Tian and the distant officers rushed over. Qi Qiqi gave me a signal, then knocked over the vendor’s stall, sending jars of peanut and fish oil crashing to the ground. Tourists scrambled to grab the spilled goods.
At the same time, I flung the stacks of cash into the air.
The sight of red Chinese bills sent everyone—vendors included—into a frenzy. Qi Qiqi grabbed my hand, and we dashed away, scattering money as we ran. Tourists bent over to pick it up, creating a chaotic bottleneck.
Police, A Tian’s men, and vendors all joined the scramble for cash.
Amid the commotion, my heart ached—that was real money flying away…
But Qi Qiqi and I made it out unscathed, flagging down a taxi by the roadside. The driver, a Chinese expat named Lü Haoyang, had a distinctly Taoist air about him.
Once inside, I told him, “Take me to where the Chinese gather. Someone’s trying to kill me.”
Lü Haoyang crushed his cigarette and sped off like a racer. As we drove, I caught a glimpse of a familiar figure—a man in a faded brown short-sleeve shirt, wearing patched socks and ill-fitting pants, his feet in a pair of Liberation Shoes.
It was Ruan Nan, whom I’d last seen in the Zhe Yin Mountain village. He’d made it to Thailand. After losing his parents and brother in a single day, he must’ve been carrying deep scars.
If he was here, nothing good would come of it.
Lü Haoyang drove masterfully, smoothly switching between gas and clutch, sticking to wide, empty roads. “Why do the Thais want you dead?”
I lied, “They’re trying to take my child.”
He didn’t press further—everyone in this world had their struggles.
We arrived in the Chinese district, where the familiar sounds of Mandarin dialects—Henanese, Hunanese, Northeastern, Hokkien—filled the air. Street vendors sold barbecue, Tianjin Goubuli buns, and jianbing guozi, while loudspeakers blared the tragic ballad *Love’s Trade*.
The Chinese enclave, located west of Chiang Mai, offered temporary refuge from A Tian’s pursuit.
As night fell…
Lü Haoyang arranged for us to stay at a small inn called *Chinese Affection*. The owner, Zhang Jingding, had a scar across his face and was watching *Prison on Fire* at the front desk. In the heartwarming scene, the inmates celebrated New Year’s Eve together—Chow Yun-fat stuck three cigarettes into an orange as an offering to his accidentally murdered wife.
Suddenly, the radio played Teresa Teng’s *Sweet Honey*: *Where, oh where have I seen you before? Your smile is so familiar…* Over and over… Smoke curled in the air as the prisoners danced, a moment so moving it brought tears.
Lü Haoyang handed Zhang Jingding a cigarette and offered me a Marlboro. After two puffs, I shook my head—nothing beat the bold taste of China’s Baisha brand.
Qi Qiqi frowned. “Your son doesn’t like smoke.” I quickly stubbed it out.
Lü Haoyang assured me, “Stay here. No matter how tough the Thais are, they won’t dare cause trouble. If things get bad, go to the embassy. China’s strong now—they won’t mess with us.”
I thanked him profusely. Those who survive out here have both skill and resilience, and we stick together.
Lü Haoyang laughed. “We’re all descendants of the dragon. No need for formalities—everyone hits rough patches.”
Zhang Jingding handed us a key and led us to our room. Glancing at the baby in my arms and Qi Qiqi’s expression, he remarked, “You two aren’t married, are you?”
His accent carried the boldness of the Yan-Zhao region, known for its straightforwardness. With no one else to rely on, I decided honesty was best.
“She’s helping me. We just met. This child is my cousin’s—he was sold to a temple here in Chiang Mai. They were going to use him to make corpse oil…”
As if on cue, Bai Yueming let out a soft whimper.
Zhang Jingding studied the baby and nodded. “He does look Chinese—Yunnanese features, but also traces of the Central Plains. The poor thing’s hungry… I’ll get him some formula. Some Thais have a thing for kids…”
In his forties, Zhang Jingding had seen much of the world. His ability to pinpoint a child’s origins was impressive.
At the door, I asked, “Brother Zhang, do you have any fresh chicken blood?”
He frowned but nodded. “I’ll bring some later.”
Downstairs, the TV played *Friendship’s Light*: *In this life, how many true friends do we have? How many bonds endure?*
Quietly, I pulled out my phone and sent three short messages—to Shen Yihu, Jie Se, and Jun Ge.
Each read the same:
*”I miss you.”*
Tai Sui Yellow Amulet Paper FuLu Taoist Love Talisman Traditional Chinese Spiritual Charm Attracting Love Protecting Marriage