Chapter 36: The Little Ghost in Xuanxuan’s House

At last, they managed to get their visas sorted, but when they chased after the old monk, he was nowhere to be found. Fortunately, the person who came to pick them up was already waiting outside. Upon seeing her, Qi Yan realized that Li Ruoke’s tour guide friend was indeed a refined beauty with single eyelids. Even in Thailand, where ultraviolet rays were harsh, she seemed barely tanned—a feat likely due to her “full battle gear.”

She carried a bright yellow backpack, her curly hair was neatly pinned up, and she wore a short-sleeved T-shirt with sun-protective sleeves on her arms. With a confident gesture, she pressed her palms together and greeted them, “Sawadee ka~…long time no see, President Li.”

This tour guide’s real name was Zeng Qiong—a rather unremarkable name. In Thai, the word for “tour guide” sounds similar to “turtle,” so Thai guides often adopt nicknames and prefer not to be called guides by tourists. Her nickname was Xuanxuan.

Li Ruoke was quite familiar with her; she took off her sunglasses and teased, “President Li? Ha… More like puffy-faced Li. Sorry to trouble you again, this time there are three of us.”

Li Lan quickly stepped forward and returned the greeting, “Sister Xuanxuan, Sawadee ka~”

“Xiao Lan, I’ve told you before: only girls or kathoey drag out the ‘ka’ at the end of ‘Sawadee ka.’ For guys, don’t linger on that syllable—just say it plainly, Sawadee ka!” Xuanxuan smiled; she clearly knew Li Lan, but Qi Yan was new to her. “Is this ‘lo mama’ your new colleague?”

“Lo mama”—the Thai phrase for “very good-looking”—is actually pronounced “lo mak mak.” It’s a trendy term used to refer to handsome young men from China, not strictly Thai, but a playful compliment. For men, it’s “lo mama”; for women, it’s “shui jing jing,” meaning pretty or charming.

Qi Yan, grinning, pressed his palms together and greeted her, “Charge my card, Sister Xuanxuan, nice to meet you. I’m Qi Yan.”

Li Ruoke nudged him lightly, “Your card’s already maxed out—what are you talking about? Don’t just stand here, let’s find somewhere to eat!”

After some light banter, they found a small restaurant near the airport to sit down and have a bite.

It seemed Xuanxuan hadn’t seen Li Ruoke in a while; the two women chatted away. “Keke, how long are you staying this time? What’s your itinerary?”

“Oh, just visiting a few of the masters’ homes to complete some client orders. The flight’s a six-day round trip. Sorry to intrude at your place again. Oh, and here are the cigarettes you asked me to bring.” Li Ruoke took two packs of Furongwang from her suitcase and handed them over.

Xuanxuan, the guide, received them like treasures. “Oh… Kwap khun ka! Thank you so much—this is my lifeline.”

Xuanxuan was originally from Hunan and had lived in Thailand for years. Her job was stressful and her cigarette habit rivaled any man’s. The local Thai cigarettes were notoriously harsh, so when she heard Li Ruoke was coming, she asked her to bring some hometown tobacco.

As Qi Yan ate his noodles, he noticed that Xuanxuan wore a Buddhist amulet around her neck—a dark golden turtle. With his growing knowledge of authentic amulets, he recognized it as a “Phaya Leuang Turtle,” said to change luck, bring fortune, foster relationships, and ward off negativity.

He hadn’t paid much attention on his first visit, but now he saw that many local Chinese were indeed passionate about the amulet culture.

Li Ruoke explained further, “Sister Xuanxuan became a disciple of Ajarn Kim when she first arrived in Thailand. Most of what I know, I learned from her.”

She then leaned close to Qi Yan’s ear and whispered, “Her family also keeps spirit amulets. Just a heads-up, since you and Xiao Lan can both ‘see’ now…”

Qi Yan nearly choked on his noodles, whispering back in surprise, “She keeps ghosts?”

“It’s alright, hers are just ordinary little spirits. Just say hello, and if you ‘run into’ them at her place… pretend you didn’t see anything.”

She spoke lightly, but Qi Yan felt uneasy—was he really supposed to coexist with so many real spirits and act like nothing was amiss?

After dinner, Xuanxuan drove her small car, taking them into Bangkok proper. Her home was in a rather remote location, close to Chinatown.

But Bangkok was infamous for its traffic jams—a single trip could take two or three hours.

Li Ruoke sat in the passenger seat chatting happily with Xuanxuan.

Qi Yan, worried, messaged Li Lan on WeChat, “Does Xuanxuan’s house really have little ghosts?”

Li Lan glanced at him and replied, “Yes, I saw them last time I stayed there. Don’t worry, they’re harmless. If you can see them like I do, you’ll know—they’re actually pretty cute.”

“Tsk… I’m not bothered, just worried about it…” Qi Yan sent the message and pointed at his own chest, where his spirit amulet lay hidden beneath his shirt. “They won’t fight, will they?”

“I don’t think so…” Li Lan frowned slightly.

“I’m not sure. I can’t control this thing,” Qi Yan replied, then put away his phone and fell silent.

When their car finally crawled to its destination, it was already 7:50 PM.

Xuanxuan’s home was an old three-story apartment building—dilapidated from the outside, but clean inside. Though not spacious, it had enough rooms for everyone.

Xuanxuan was incredibly hospitable; after all, they were compatriots and friends. She brought out every kind of snack and fruit and cautioned Qi Yan, “My place isn’t a hotel; there are lots of mosquitoes at night. Remember to light mosquito coils before sleeping.”

She’d already bought plenty of groceries, and the four of them got to work, dividing tasks to prepare dinner. Since everyone was from China, they skipped Thai cuisine and opted for fish hotpot.

They’d already eaten a little at the airport, so they weren’t hungry—no rush, just a slow, pleasant preparation.

Qi Yan could only wash vegetables, so after completing his assigned task, he went back to his room to organize his luggage.

The walls were covered with old posters, evoking a vibe from the eighties—cozy, and with so many young people together, the next few days promised to be lively.

Qi Yan dreaded packing; he’d brought plenty of clothes to change, since sweating was inevitable in Thailand—even a short trip downstairs left him drenched. Unless you were used to it from frequent visits, it was hard to adjust.

He began taking out his clothes one by one, folding them neatly, while the sounds of the others preparing dinner drifted in from outside.

“Let me see… Old Li said we won’t be going to the beach this time, so bringing swim trunks was pointless. And… oh right, let’s take out these shorts first…” As he tried to pull a pair of blue shorts from the pile, he looked down and saw a chubby little foot, like a steamed bun, stepping right on his shirt.

Qi Yan instantly frowned, his gaze slowly lifting.

A plump little boy, stark naked and even exposing his “little brother,” was chewing on his fingernails and staring at him. No more than three years old, he looked just like any ordinary child, except his eyes were a bit darker, his forehead sported a tuft of sparse hair, and his face was adorably round and wheat-colored.

Most striking was his expression—pure and innocent, he giggled softly while nibbling his nails, his laughter echoing slightly in Qi Yan’s ears.

He’d already been mentally prepared, so Qi Yan didn’t react too dramatically. Pressing his lips together, he forced a smile. “Go play somewhere else, alright?”

“Hee hee…” The child laughed sweetly, toddling on the bed with clumsy little feet. Seeing that Qi Yan could perceive him made him ecstatic; he stretched out his stubby arms for a hug.

But before Qi Yan could fully recover, the child’s face suddenly changed, as if he’d seen something terrifying. He plopped down on the bed, refusing to look at Qi Yan.

Qi Yan was momentarily stunned, then noticed his left shoulder felt heavy. When he turned his head… there it was—a gray-skinned infant with only half a head, sprawled on his shoulder, baring a mouthful of black, decayed teeth at the child on the bed.

Both were little spirits, but the difference was stark.

“Go back!” Qi Yan instinctively shouted. The strange infant let out a sharp, eerie scream beside his ear, then vanished.

When Qi Yan looked back at the bed, the cute “child” had already fled, scared out of sight.