The sinister aura flickering in the young monk’s brows quickly vanished as he passed by, hands pressed together in prayer. At the stalls selling wishing lanterns, numerous vendors had set up their wares on the ground.
The tables were filled with items like Buddhist amulets. In truth, those purchased from legitimate temples are said to bring genuine benefits—Buddhism’s protection of sentient beings certainly holds merit. It’s similar to how people in China wear pendants of Maitreya Buddha for blessings. However, some amulets supposedly house “dark spirits,” and from a Buddhist perspective, the hope is that the wearer can cultivate virtue alongside these entities. But if one harbors ill intentions, it’s best to avoid wearing them.
Some small jars contained strange liquids, their color resembling peanut oil. Vendors, illuminated by night lights, loudly claimed they were “corpse oil.” A taxi driver I met earlier in the day had scoffed, “Where would so many corpses come from to extract that much oil?”
Only the corpse oil extracted by remote mountain sorcerers or malevolent *jiangshi* masters is the real deal—often from infant corpses. Thus, in some isolated villages, news of a deceased child would quickly attract *jiangshi* masters, who would offer money to the grieving parents in exchange for the body.
Thai traditions hold unique beliefs about life and death, deeply rooted in their land. To outsiders, these customs may seem bizarre, but they have their own logic—much like the indigenous beliefs in many parts of China, which also appear peculiar to outsiders. There’s no reason to mock them; different environments nurture different traditions.
Some curious tourists lingered, a few bold enough to haggle with vendors. Others, struggling in business, sought guidance—willing to pay exorbitant sums for a *kuman thong* (a “child spirit”) to turn their luck around.
Inside the temple, many released wishing lanterns, praying for sick loved ones to recover or departed souls to find peace, spared from the torments of hell…
The lanterns sold briskly. I bought two, and the vendor threw in a box of matches, pressing his palms together to wish me success. I thanked him repeatedly and tipped an extra ten baht.
With hopeful hearts, we prayed that the Buddha would hear us. Thai Buddhism, predominantly Theravada, emphasizes personal enlightenment. Its followers are vast, and the craftsmanship of Buddha statues is exquisite—almost every village has its own temple and statues. Living amidst such faith is a beautiful and joyous thing. Soon, I lit my lantern.
Entering the temple, I released the lantern with Xie Lingyu. The jade corpse was thrilled, clapping and cheering as the lanterns ascended.
Silently, I made my wish: *May Ji Qianqian wake up.* Xie Lingyu, however, burst into laughter while making hers. Curious, I asked what she had wished for.
She smirked. “You first—what did *you* wish for?”
I answered honestly: “I wished for Ji Qianqian to wake up, safe and sound…”
Her expression darkened instantly, and she refused to share her wish, instead watching the lanterns drift away.
Countless lanterns rose higher into the night sky, mingling with the stars…
A young man had written on his: *”Mom, may you be happy in heaven…”* Nearby, an elderly man’s lantern read: *”Son, be at peace where you are…”*
Tears welled in my eyes. As I wiped them away, I spotted the young monk again—watching me from a distance, smiling.
Uneasy, I chased after him, only to be stopped by two junior monks at a side gate. They informed me that entry was forbidden—likely because a senior monk was meditating inside, and outsiders weren’t permitted near.
Xie Lingyu asked, concerned, “What’s wrong?”
I hesitated. “That monk has been watching me all night. Just now, he smiled at me, but when I followed, he vanished.”
She eyed me skeptically. “With so many people around, he might not have been smiling at *you*. Don’t flatter yourself. The lanterns are done—let’s head back.”
On the way, we nearly got lost, saved only by the map I’d brought.
As we walked, I asked, “Xie Lingyu, did you figure out what kind of curse Wu Tieqing is under?”
She shrugged. “Nothing special—just a basic curse. There are many methods, but three main ones: sound, poison, and incantation. A Thai businessman getting scammed was probably poisoned—not something advanced like a flying curse.”
Back at the hotel, Xiao Jian (Little Rascal) whimpered anxiously.
I thought he missed me, growing distressed after just a short separation.
Xie Lingyu called out, “Kitty, kitty! I brought you something tasty.” But after two calls, there was no sign of He Qingling, the black cat. We searched the room thoroughly—she was gone.
Then it hit me—Xiao Jian’s distress wasn’t for me.
It was obvious.
He Qingling was missing.
As a rare spirit cat, the chances of her wandering off were slim. Last time, it was *she* who had helped find Xie Lingyu. Now, Xie Lingyu paced the room, visibly unsettled. She and He Qingling had been together for so long—losing her felt like losing something irreplaceable.
I checked the hotel’s surveillance footage, but there was no trace of the cat. The staff, annoyed, insisted they weren’t responsible for lost pets.
Frustrated, I argued, even cursing, but it was useless.
The staff threatened, “Sir, if you keep this up, we’ll call the police.”
With no clues and Xiao Jian only whining helplessly, I wondered—had she fallen from the seventh-floor window?
I reassured Xie Lingyu, “Maybe she just went out to play. She’ll be back soon.”
But Xie Lingyu fretted, “I’m worried someone took her—someone with ill intentions.”
Her words deepened my unease. He Qingling was no ordinary cat—if a sorcerer captured her, her bones could be used for dark rituals, or her blood for summoning spirits. The memory of the sinister monk from earlier felt eerily relevant.
Still, I forced a laugh. “No one could outsmart He Qingling. Most people would run from her!”
Xie Lingyu clutched her chest. “I hope she’s just being playful.”
That night, Xiao Jian stayed awake, staring at the door, waiting.
I patted his head. “If only you could talk—tell me what happened. Then we wouldn’t be so lost.”
By morning, He Qingling still hadn’t returned. Xie Lingyu couldn’t sense her presence either—as if she’d vanished into thin air.
She was truly missing. I confronted the hotel again, demanding to review the footage. They remained adamant: “We don’t allow pets. If your cat’s gone, it’s not our fault.”
The footage showed our door moving slightly around 10 PM—but no one entered or exited.
Xie Lingyu whispered, “That’s when it happened. Someone masked their presence—deliberately avoiding detection.”
I was stunned. *Invisibility?*
She explained, “Certain talismans can temporarily conceal a person’s aura, evading cameras. It’s like ninja stealth techniques. Taoism has similar spells.”
I glanced at her. Was she implying the “Flying Centipede” had come for me? But he wasn’t that skilled.
“You think Ji Ruyue is behind this?”
Xie Lingyu wasn’t sure either. Ji Ruyue might collect underwear, but confronting me directly? Unlikely.
Yet, with Wu Wei’s two assassination attempts and now this, Ji Ruyue’s involvement seemed plausible.
Wu Tieqing visited early, hearing about the missing cat. “Some sorcerers use cat bones in rituals,” he said. “Maybe she was stolen and sold.” Ignoring my silence, he added, “I slept well last night—though the apples by my bed were all shriveled.”
I said coldly, “Now you know why you couldn’t sleep. Those apples took your place.”
Wu Tieqing begged for help, offering any sum.
Irritated, I snapped, “Leave me alone.”
He fell silent. Xiao Jian lay listlessly, skipping breakfast.
Later, Wu Tieqing cautiously suggested, “Master Xiao, if someone took your cat, there are two possibilities. First, they stole her to sell. Second… they want to meet you.”
As a businessman, he recognized the tactic—taking something valuable to force a meeting. I hadn’t considered that. Xie Lingyu pressed, “You think someone took her to lure us out?”
Wu Tieqing nodded. “I’ve used similar tactics—holding leverage.”
If true, Ji Ruyue’s involvement seemed less likely. Why would he want to meet me if he just wanted me dead?
Then who?
Seizing the moment, Wu Tieqing pulled out fifty thousand baht. “Master Xiao, I’ll help find your cat—plus this. Just save my life.”
Tai Sui Yellow Amulet Paper FuLu Taoist Love Talisman Traditional Chinese Spiritual Charm Attracting Love Protecting Marriage