Recently, He Mu had been busy negotiating a partnership with a new client and conducting product tests. Before he knew it, a week had passed.
On Monday morning, after finishing up his work, he headed to the building materials mall at eleven o'clock. He wandered in and out of the entrance, unsure how to begin. Hesitating, he thought to himself—better go buy some air hose. What harm would another 49 meters do?
He walked over slowly and saw the girl organizing the shelves. After a morning of sales, she was taking stock of what needed restocking.
"I need 50 meters of air hose!"
"The 2.5 connectors are out."
She still remembered the 2.5 connectors. That must mean she remembered me too! He Mu's anxious heart immediately settled back into place.
"Do you still have the 49-meter piece? That would work too."
"Out of stock!" she replied.
"Actually, I came to see you. It's been a while." He Mu looked at her with a smile.
"Don't you have work to do? Wandering around during business hours!"
"My work is done. So, I came to see you."
"Well, now you've seen me. The air hose won't be restocked until Friday. Please come back then!"
"Let's add each other on WeChat. In case it's out, you can let me know," He Mu said cautiously.
"I don't have WeChat!"
"Then add me on LINE!" He Mu took out his phone and opened his QR code. The girl hesitated for a moment, then took out her phone. With a ding, she scanned the code.
He Mu's heart felt like a spring field bursting with rapeseed flowers. He couldn't help but laugh out loud.
"You know you can block me, right? What are you laughing at!" The girl gave him a sly smile.
"I'm new here and don't know anyone. I was hoping you could show me around."
"Who asks someone out the moment they meet?" She shot him a glance.
"We're different from others. This is… China-Thailand friendship!"
She chuckled softly. "Is that so? How are we different?" She paused, then said, "Come back on Friday, and we'll talk then."
"Okay. Um, I hope you're happy every day. Every single moment!"
As he left the mall, He Mu was overjoyed. Even the bare streets seemed exceptionally beautiful, and every person he saw looked pleasant. Today had been unexpectedly smooth—the key was that the girl still remembered him, which was crucial. If she hadn't, the outcome would have been unpredictable. Now, he needed to prepare a gift for Friday. Flowers weren't quite right for the occasion. Perhaps a music box, with Auld Lang Syne—a love story for the ages! His starved emotions were like cracked, parched earth that even the Atlantic Ocean couldn't heal, but just a little affection from this girl would turn his emotional wasteland into a field of wild grass.
Before falling asleep, a sudden inspiration struck He Mu, and he wrote a short poem: This Night
This night
Awakened by moonlight
Clouds scatter in all directions
Breathless
Suddenly feeling a bit cold
There is a person on the moon
Blinking bright eyes
Wanting to speak with me
I strain my ears
Through the clouds
And hear her whisper softly
Go to sleep, little one
What the girl didn't expect was that He Mu showed up at the mall again the very next afternoon.
"I came to tell you that I missed you last night and didn't sleep much," He Mu said, looking into her eyes.
"You might be sick. You should see a doctor!" Her face seemed to redden slightly. "Showing up early in the morning talking nonsense like this—you're definitely sick."
He Mu watched her as she finished speaking, his gaze lingering.
There were few customers at this hour. The girl stood in the middle of the aisle with her hands clasped behind her back, looking a bit uncomfortable under his stare. One of her colleagues watched them with an amused smile.
He placed a few pastries and two cups of milk tea on the counter. "Breakfast for you." Then he turned and left.
After stepping outside, He Mu sent her a message: "I just remembered last night—I have a driving test on Friday and won't make it. I'll definitely come see you on Saturday."
He never received any reply to that message. LINE didn't have a translation feature, but that didn't matter—maybe she simply hadn't seen it.
Central Pattaya Driving School was located in Bang Lamung, halfway between Chonburi and Pattaya. There were many foreigners getting their licenses here: Europeans, Americans, Indians, Chinese, all studying and testing alongside Thai nationals. Most instructors knew a few simple phrases in Chinese. The traffic law course consisted of watching videos for three days, with fingerprint check-ins at irregular times each day—missing even one was disqualifying.
Most of the videos were about traffic accidents. One stuck vividly in He Mu's memory: a family spanning three generations, living happily together—going to work, spending time together, enjoying picnics, traveling. He thought it was just a short film inserted for a break. But after six minutes of warm, heartwarming scenes, it ended with a horrific crash caused by speeding and an illegal lane change. The video stopped abruptly. He started the videos on Wednesday and took the theory test on Friday morning. The theory test was multiple choice, all in Thai. Foreigners just had to sit at a computer, watch the mouse automatically select the answers, and a few minutes later, they'd pass. After receiving the score report and the instructor's signature, the next step was queuing for the driving test. The driving test had three components: parallel parking, backing into a garage, and stopping at a designated point. For an experienced driver like He Mu, it was second nature. The only difference was that in Thailand, they drove on the right side of the vehicle.
When he finished the test, it was already 5:30 PM. He spent 360 baht on a taxi to Pattana. By the time he arrived, it was 7:00 PM.
The next afternoon after work, He Mu rushed to the mall. Unfortunately, the girl had weekends off, and his LINE messages went unanswered. He was deeply disappointed—it was entirely possible she had both Saturday and Sunday off, and not being able to see her was disheartening.
Feeling listless, he walked about two kilometers from the mall, following the direction of his apartment, until he reached a flea market near Robinson Plaza. This market opened on Saturday evenings. There were musicians singing and playing instruments, and stalls selling men's and women's clothing, children's clothes, bedding, shoes, second-hand shoes, accessories, crafts, small electronics, kittens, puppies, calligraphy, paintings—everything imaginable.
Inside was a food court with a performance stage and blasting music. He Mu preferred the snack street by the side road, which gathered all kinds of Southeast Asian delicacies—over a hundred varieties. Two rows of food stalls tightly squeezed a narrow pedestrian path. Overhead, electrical wires tangled like a messy web, their shadows swaying gently under the market lights. People pressed together, chest to back, shuffling sideways to let others pass or ducking under hanging lights, laughing and chatting as they picked out their food. The vendors were too busy to talk, focused on flipping woks, grilling, or bagging orders, only offering warm glances.
The scent of grilled taro wafted from a distance. Slowly roasted over charcoal until they split open, the sweet fragrance drifted out in waves, mingling with the cooking oil smoke and the crowd's noise.
He Mu ordered a grilled fish for 160 baht—not because he was hungry, but out of curiosity. He also got a box of purple grilled taro balls for 20 baht, a box of fruit for 20 baht, a boiled corn for 20 baht, a cup of boiled peanuts, and a can of Chang beer. He patiently shuffled along with the slow-moving crowd, looking for a table where he could eat before heading back to sleep.
At the far end of the snack street, around a corner, stalls mainly sold various accessories. He Mu spotted a familiar figure—the girl he'd been longing to see! He ran over and laughed loudly. "Ha!" When she saw it was him, she smiled too and gestured toward a woman beside her. The woman was slightly shorter than her, with much fairer skin, likely from spending long hours at the market stall. She appeared about five or six years older.
"Sister," the girl introduced. Her sister gave He Mu a friendly smile, raised her hand in a slight wave, and said, "Sawasdee ka!"
It turned out her sister ran a small stall selling hair accessories. He Mu spotted a black-and-yellow bee hairpin among the wares. It had a lively feel, with bright, eye-catching colors—made of velvet, it seemed as if the bee's tiny fuzz was moving in the wind. A small bump of fabric at the bee's base concealed a short spring, holding it atop a black hairband. At the slightest movement, the bee would vibrate, as if ready to take flight.
There were also butterfly and rose hairpins, along with little cats and dogs, all in bright colors, crammed onto the stall.
The stall was tiny, with no seating—just two small square stools.
The girl gestured for He Mu to stand behind the stall. He Mu put his food on one of the stools, picked up a butterfly hairpin and put it on her sister, then took the bee hairpin and put it on the girl. "A gift for you. How much?"
Her sister said, "You shouldn't!"
The girl smiled and said, "Eighty baht each!"
He Mu handed over 1,000 baht to her sister, but she waved her hand, refusing to accept it. The girl laughed and said something to her sister. Her sister looked He Mu up and down, exchanged a few more words with her, then smiled at He Mu. Just then, a customer wanted to buy some hair accessories, and they turned to attend to them.
After a while, they finished and came back. Her sister suddenly picked up the grilled fish from the stool and asked, "Is it okay if we open this?"
He Mu smiled and grabbed a small stool. The girl spread out a piece of paper. He Mu opened the container and placed it on the stool.
The grilled fish was a whole tilapia, complete with entrails, gills, and scales. The belly was stuffed with lemongrass, then coated entirely with coarse salt. Skewered from mouth to tail, it was grilled over charcoal. Peeling back the charred, golden scales revealed white, jade-like flesh. Steam rose, carrying a fresh, fragrant aroma. He Mu laid a lettuce leaf on his palm, tore off a piece of bitter neem leaf, picked a bit of fish and placed it on top, added two sprigs of sawtooth coriander, a little cilantro, a small spoonful of green chili sauce, and a pinch of white rice noodles. Wrapping it all together, he popped the entire bundle into his mouth. The flavor hit his palate—first bitter, then spicy. The bitterness and heat from the unique plants were intensely penetrating, followed by the balancing freshness of cilantro, the delicate flavor of the fish, and the clean, bright taste of green chili. Every bite was a full, rich experience.
Though it was his first time eating it, and his wrapping technique was a mess, He Mu found it delicious. He followed it with the taro balls and fruit. The sisters didn't eat anything else, so He Mu packed away the corn, beer, and peanuts.
While her sister tended to customers, He Mu chatted with the girl.
"What's your name?" The girl told him.
"Big Bowl?"
"Not big bowl. It's Tavan," she corrected his pronunciation.
"Tawan?"
"Tavan!"
"Okay! Tavan."
"What's your name?"
"A Mu."
"A Mu?" She giggled. "Why do they call you A Mu?"
"Is there something wrong with A Mu?"
The girl smiled playfully. "No, no. It's perfect!"
"Why didn't you reply to my message?" A Mu asked suddenly.
"I don't know what you're talking about!"
"Can you download WeChat?"
"What's so good about WeChat?"
"Then you'd know what I'm saying!"
So He Mu helped her download and register for WeChat, adding her as a contact. She had trouble choosing a profile picture. After thinking for a moment, she walked about five or six steps to the right. There lay a chunky orange cat, wearing sunglasses, sleeping on a cushion. She carefully took several photos, finally settling on a frontal shot of the orange cat for her profile picture. By then, the crowd had mostly thinned out. Her sister had sold about a dozen hair accessories.
He Mu picked out five or six different styles, saying he wanted to buy them as gifts for his colleagues. This time, the 1,000 baht was accepted, but her sister insisted on giving him 300 baht in change.
He Mu helped them pack up the stall, carefully coiling the wires, and carried their goods and stools onto a green pickup truck.
"Where do you live?" her sister asked as she closed the tailgate.
"Pattana Apartment."
The first time he stayed at the Pattana Hotel, it cost 2,800 baht per night including tax, and he stayed for two weeks. This time, Shan Ge had arranged an apartment for him. It was part of the same hotel property, managed uniformly, located just across from the hotel. It cost about 700 yuan a month, significantly reducing his expenses.
"We'll give you a ride. It's hard to get a taxi at this hour."
"Alright, thank you!" He Mu really didn't want to part ways with Tavan just yet.
"You can sit up front and navigate," Tavan said as she got into the back seat.
"Having me navigate—that's the hard part!" He Mu laughed as he got into the passenger seat and shared his apartment location with Tavan.
The navigation showed 14 kilometers. The apartment was near the industrial zone, quite far from the city center.
"Which city in China are you from?" her sister asked while driving, with Tavan using Google Translate in the back to convey the conversation.
"Hangzhou!"
"I haven't heard of Hangzhou. I've heard of Chongqing and Beijing!" her sister said with a hearty laugh.
"Hangzhou is close to the sea, but it's far from both of those places."
"Is China very big, with many people?"
"Yes, very big, with many people. You should come visit and experience it!"
"I want to go to Chongqing to eat hotpot," her sister said, laughing.
"Does it snow there? Is it beautiful?" Tavan asked from the back.
"It snows in winter. Summers are similar to Thailand. Oh! In winter, you could wear tall boots, knitted hats, coats, and pretty scarves. You would look so beautiful!" He Mu said.
"I've never worn thick clothes before. But why would we look beautiful?" her sister asked curiously.
"You're tall and have slender figures. Everyone on the street would admire you!"
"Saying that makes me really want to go! Hahaha!" her sister laughed happily.
The apartment complex had four buildings, A through D. He Mu lived on the second floor of Building D, the outermost building. The parking lot below was full of cars.
To the left of the building was a basketball court with some exercise equipment, a rotating wheel, and a simple soccer field. To the right of the building was a large empty lot overgrown with weeds. Nearby was a river, with lush trees lining both banks, home to countless birds that chirped incessantly from morning till night. There was also a bird that called day and night, a long, deep "Ooo, ooo, ooo" sound that was sometimes a bit eerie.
Her sister pulled the truck to a stop, and He Mu invited them up to his room for a while. Her sister agreed, saying they'd take a quick look.
Just as He Mu was about to swipe his card to open the glass lobby door, they heard a "scritch-scratch" sound.
"It's a pigeon!" Tavan pointed under the lobby coffee table.
"It looks injured," her sister said after shining her phone flashlight on it.
Tavan gently pressed down on the pigeon's wings and carefully picked it up.
It was an adult pigeon, breathing in labored "hoo-hoo" gasps, its head held stubbornly upright. He thought to himself, are Thai pigeons this proud?
"It's sick!" Tavan said, gesturing with her chin toward the pigeon's neck.
He Mu looked closely. The pigeon had a tumor-like growth hanging from its neck, seeping a reddish-brown liquid. The growth was large, taking up most of the front of its neck and spreading toward its beak.
Her sister went to the truck and brought back a small knife and scissors.
He Mu took the pigeon in both hands, cradling it.
Tavan carefully cut away the growth with the small knife. He Mu gently supported the pigeon's chin and could feel it trembling nonstop, rapid vibrations—probably terrified and in pain.
Slowly, the growth came off, about the size of a persimmon cake. The pigeon's neck was bare, revealing damaged, bumpy skin mottled with red and black. The pigeon's eyes kept rolling back, and He Mu worried it might stop breathing at any moment.
Tavan gently stroked the pigeon's head and carefully cleaned the foam from its mouth.
Her sister went to the truck and got a small piece of breadcrumb, crumbling it to feed the pigeon, but it had no appetite. It held a small piece in its beak but kept rolling its eyes.
He Mu remembered he had anti-diarrheal tablets in his room. He ran up, grabbed one, and brought it down with a bottle of water.
Her sister used the scissors to cut the brown tablet into smaller pieces. Tavan took a small piece and had He Mu gently open the pigeon's beak. Tavan placed the piece deep into its throat and gave it some water. The pigeon struggled fiercely but eventually swallowed, its tongue flicking in and out, its eyes frightened. They fed it all the pieces this way. Tavan placed the pigeon back where they'd found it. It seemed unsteady on its feet, using one wing to balance itself on the floor, its abdomen heaving. Tavan stepped outside to rinse the knife with water, then used the scissors to cut most of the water bottle away, leaving just a shallow base. She filled it with a little water and placed it next to the pigeon. She then cut the remaining part of the bottle in half, put some breadcrumbs on one half, and placed it beside the pigeon. She murmured a few words—perhaps a prayer or a blessing.
Her sister put the scissors and knife back in the truck and said, "It's too late. We won't come up!"
"Alright, you still have a long drive. Get some rest when you get home."
"Um, how about we have dinner together tomorrow night!" He Mu said as he walked them to the truck.
Her sister glanced at her younger sibling.
The younger sister said something to her, then turned to He Mu. "Okay. What do you want to eat?"
"I'm fine with anything. Whatever you two like."
"Okay. Send me a message tomorrow!"
They waved goodbye. Her sister drove off in the pickup. He watched as their left turn signal blinked and the truck slowly disappeared into the distance.
(To be continued, next chapter: The Fish That Hooks the Fisherman)