Location: Jingzhou, Hubei Province, China
Time: September, 10:30 AM POV: Tui / Jetdoe
“Zzz... Zzz...”
Tan had been taking turns driving with me the whole way. Now, he was pouting and sleeping like a little child because I had snuck off to find a 'nighttime companion.' He was angry on his aunt’s behalf, thinking I was being unfaithful, so he went to sleep, snoring loudly in the passenger seat.
If not for that snoring, he’d look like any other innocent boy. But I know better... I’ve seen the jagged scars hidden deep within him, wounds that have yet to heal. In his sleep, he often cries out for his mother. In our Asian culture, we are bound together by large, tight-knit families. Because of that, losing a parent in childhood doesn’t just leave a hole—it leaves a lingering ache in the heart that never truly fades.
Tan is a good kid—polite and quick to smile. I understand how he feels better than anyone. Tan’s mother was a true beauty; I’ve seen her funeral photo hanging on the wall of Aueng’s house, and he inherited those clean-cut, sharp looks from her.
Aueng entrusted him to me. He usually spends his entire day absorbed in political news and parliamentary debates, never showing even a hint of a playboy streak. He is always the first to step in and help anyone in trouble, making him beloved by both his peers and the village elders. He is Aueng’s only nephew... the nephew of the woman I love.
“HONK! HONK!”
I slammed on the air horn, the deafening blast echoing as a warning to a group of cyclists who had drifted out of formation and veered into my lane. As they swerved back to safety, the sight of those two-wheelers triggered a piercing surge of memories that rushed into my head, dragging my thoughts back to my childhood.
Aueng and I had been classmates ever since we were toddlers at a rural temple school in Chiang Mai. Every morning, I would walk barefoot behind the monks during their alms rounds, passing in front of the house of Kamnan Singh... Aueng’s father.
As we entered our teenage years, something in my heart began to change. It was a transformation so slow that even I didn’t notice it at first.
When we started high school, we had to travel to the district center, which was seven kilometers away. Our village was tucked deep inside the rugged mountains. Aueng had enough money to take the local bus, but me? …I didn’t have a single cent for the fare. I only had one old, rusty bicycle to pedal to school.
Every day, Aueng would tell me to bring the food her family offered to the monks in the morning so we could sit and eat together at school. We looked after each other as children do. On days when school activities finished late and Aueng missed the last bus, she would have to ride on the back of my bicycle to get home—and those were the days I was happiest.
As time passed, my heart began to race for no reason. I found myself constantly worrying about her, wanting to see her face more and more. Back then, I didn’t truly understand what those feelings meant; I only knew that I felt a surge of happiness every time images of her in various moments popped into my mind.
We were so close that the villagers began to gossip. Rumors spread like wildfire that we were a couple. It made my heart swell with pride. I was incredibly embarrassed, but also so excited that I could hardly stop myself from grinning.
At that time, I was too young to understand the gap between social classes, or the reality that my roots were those of a "lotus beneath the mud." It was a pure feeling, an innocent first love. Aueng never denied the rumors, nor did she ever confirm them. Her silence made me even more certain—she had to feel the same way I did.
Then the Yi Peng Festival arrived. As usual, Headman served as the chairman of the event. I spent the entire day at the temple, making myself useful and serving the elders. Aueng and her father were joyfully decorating a massive sky lantern. The temple grounds were filled with a simple, vibrant energy—the scent of incense, the glow of Pang Pratheep candles lining the monastery walls, and the sight of colorful Khom Phat spinning in the breeze. Everything seemed perfect... until reality slapped me hard in the face.
“My, look at that, Headman! Having a son-in-law here to help like this must make the work much lighter!” a villager teased, followed by fits of giggling. My heart soared. I couldn’t wipe the grin off my face.
“Whose son-in-law? Who the hell are you talking about?” Headman Singh barked harshly, his face twisting into a dark scowl.
“It’s Tui. He’s hardworking as can be. And look at him! He’s grown up to be quite handsome, hasn't he?” Fon chimed in playfully.
The Headman’s face darkened instantly. “Don’t you dare spew that filth, Fon! I won’t have it! You’re dragging my daughter’s reputation through the mud!” he roared.
My swelling heart withered in an instant. A chilling cold swept through me as if all the blood in my body had drained down to my feet. I felt hollow and weightless.
I stole a glance at Aueng. She remained sitting still on the floor. An awkward silence smothered the crowd, and every trace of a smile vanished from everyone's faces.
Fon wouldn’t stop there; she continued to provoke him. “Oh, come on, Headman! Everyone sees it. These two kids ride double on that bicycle to school every single day.”
I can still remember his gaze—cold enough to pierce through to my very bones. “Is it true, Tui? What do you think you’re doing with my daughter?”
“I... uh...” It felt as if a sharp blade had been driven straight into my heart. A stinging pain surged through my entire body. I could only bow my head in silence. I didn't dare answer 'yes' because of the gripping fear, yet I couldn't bring myself to say 'no' while Aueng was sitting right there.
“You’re still living off the monks’ leftover scraps. Use your head before you try anything,” he said, reaching out to squeeze my shoulder. His hand felt as heavy as lead, and my heart trembled under that touch.
“Know your place. And don't let me ever hear of this again.” His voice was a low, threatening growl—sharp enough to cut deep into my mind, branding that warning into my memory for the rest of my life.
My beautiful world shattered in an instant. My legs lost all strength, my mind went numb, and I collapsed to my knees, bowing my head low as tears began to drip onto the dirt. I prostrated myself at the Headman’s feet out of pure humility and gripping fear, while the laughter of the crowd exploded all around me.
An orphan like me would receive no sympathy. No one stepped forward to speak in my defense. There was only the cold, mocking laughter of people looking down at me with nothing but pity.
This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
The resonant tolling of the temple bell pulled me back from the void. It was time for evening prayers... I didn’t even realize how I had escaped that spot. I only came to my senses when I found myself sitting before the main Buddha image in the ordination hall. The shame was so heavy it felt as though it would crush my heart, especially when I thought of Aueng’s face... the suffocating feeling was more than I could bear.
Was this it? Was this what it felt like to be despised simply for who I was?
From that day on... I became a person of few words. Headman Singh’s words made me acutely aware of my "place." I didn't dare utter a single word to Aueng again. I didn't dare follow the monks on their alms rounds to her house because I felt unworthy. A nobody with no roots or lineage like me had no right to involve himself with people who had the safety nets of family and reputation to back them up.
Then the final day of exams arrived—the day my life reached a crossroads. I was no longer that little boy living off the monks’ leftovers. Graduation meant everyone would scatter along their chosen paths, but for me, there were no choices. The only survival I could see was becoming a day laborer, wandering around the outskirts of the temple.
I was walking toward my bicycle, lost in a daze of dark thoughts, when a light tap on my shoulder pulled me back to reality.
“Tui! Can I hitch a ride home on the back of your bike?”
“Aueng...” My heart began to drum against my ribs. I didn't know whether to smile or cry; I only knew that I was the happiest person in the world.
There she was, waiting for me in front of the school. Just by her greeting me, a surge of life raced through my withered heart, giving me an incredible burst of strength once again.
But then, the voice of Headman Singh echoed in my chest...
“Is that... a good idea?” My voice hitched, and my hands wouldn't stop trembling. No matter how overjoyed I felt, that growling warning still rang loudly in my ears.
Instead of an answer, she tossed her books into the front basket and hopped onto the back of the bicycle. She hooked her fingers through my belt loops to steady herself and shouted a farewell to the school... “Thank you for everything! Bye-bye!”
The seven-kilometer journey from school to home took over an hour of pedaling. The evening sun blazed into our eyes, forcing Aueng to tuck her head against my back, seeking shade. Her hands remained tightly gripped to my belt loops. Today was the last day we would be students together. Our lives had reached a crossroads from which there was no turning back. Once graduation ended, each of us would be swept away along the paths that destiny had already laid out.
“Where are you going for university, Tui?” Aueng’s voice drifted up from behind me.
“I’m probably not going. I’ll be looking for work,” I replied, my heart sinking the moment the words left my lips.
“That’s such a shame... You’re smarter than me, you know? You’ve always been ranked first in class.” Her words only deepened the gloom in my soul.
“And what about you, Aueng? What do you want to study?” I asked.
“I want to be a doctor.” She had never changed her mind since we were kids; that dream had been with her since kindergarten.
“You can do it for sure. I believe in you,” I said, with all the conviction I had left.
“I will,” she insisted. “I’ll make it happen.”
“Where should I drop you off?” I asked. For her sake, I had to be more careful now... just as the Headman had warned. I didn't want anyone to see us or cause her any trouble.
“You can drop me at the pavilion in front of the house. It doesn’t matter anymore...” Her voice was a whisper so faint it felt fragile, as if it were tearing my heart right out of my chest. “Anyway, this might be the last time.”
She was right... I had to start over too. I felt lost, drifting in a dark void. I had survived in the temple since I was a child, and my only group of friends were the other temple boys. The luckiest among us was the undertaker’s son, whose older sister sent him toys from abroad... that was the highest peak our world could reach. But now, I had to go.
The problem was, I had nowhere to go. This world was too vast for someone with no place to stand. An orphan like me was no different from a blind man wandering in the heart of darkness... a darkness so thick I couldn't even see the lines on my own palm.
My bicycle came to a halt at the bus stop pavilion in front of her house. She scooped her books from the basket and walked toward me. “Tui... thank you for being such a good friend all these years. You know... I know what you’re thinking.”
“Aueng... you know?” My heart hammered like a drum. We were about to say goodbye... I could only pray she wouldn't say anything that would crush the remaining fragments of my soul.
“We’ve played together since we were little, Tui. We ate lunch together almost every day. How could I not know what you’re thinking? Thank you, Tui. Now, give me your hand.” She stole a quick, nervous glance back at her house before reaching out to take my hand. She extended her pinky finger.
“Make a pinky swear with me.”
“................”
“Remember... when we turn thirty, let's meet again. Promise me, okay? Don't give up yet... you can do it.”
With just those few words, a surge of power exploded from the void within me. The sorrow vanished in an instant. The feelings of inferiority, all that self-pity... it evaporated. Thank you, Aueng. Thank you for bringing me back to life.
***********************************
Inside Hong Long Bao, a restaurant in Wuhan, the air was thick with toxic cigarette smoke and the rowdy shouts of men. Bright red lanterns swayed from the ceiling, following the weary rhythm of a rotating fan. Beautiful beer promoters cast inviting glances at the local gangsters. A group of tough-looking men marched in, their faces grim and hurried.
“A-Wo! What’s the word on the waterways?” Jiang, the big boss, walked in while rubbing his bald head. He draped an arm around a hostess who greeted him with a smile.
“The harbor master confirmed that no strange women have boarded any ships, Boss. He’s certain. The boys checked the port's CCTV since yesterday. I don’t think she escaped by water,” A-Wo replied.
Jiang turned to a long-haired man sitting at a nearby table. “A-Tao, what about the bus stations?”
“I think she’s still hiding in the city, Boss. If she slipped out, someone would’ve spotted her. None of our people controlling the transport businesses across town have heard a whisper.”
“Tell the boys to keep searching!”
“Yes, Boss!”
“Eat your fill, then get back to work.” Jiang retreated into a private room. His subordinates, gathered around a large circular table, stood up and bowed their heads.
The pungent aroma of animal fat mingled with the musty scent of old carpet. A lavish feast covered the table, but at its center sat a clay pot steaming with heat. Inside, "braised pig brains" floated in a broth as red as blood.
A-Long was the first to speak. “B-B-Boss… w-we can’t f-find her anywhere. Or maybe… maybe she’s still in the city? Her car is still at the building, and she hasn't gone home. My men are watching…” A-Long, missing several teeth, spoke through white bandages while stuffing a chicken drumstick into his mouth.
“A-Long, shut up. You’re annoying me. Dammit! Just waiting for you to finish a sentence is exhausting enough to kill me,” Jiang shook his head in frustration.
A-Tue, a stout man, flicked a chicken neck aside as he spoke. “A-Long might be right, Boss. We’ve blocked every exit, and the police have been running checkpoints all night, yet there’s no sign of her. Where could she have vanished to?” He chewed on a chicken head with relish.
“I had people check the hotels—nothing. She disappeared without a trace,” A-Siew, who seemed calmer than the others, remarked quietly.
Jiang rubbed his nose and narrowed his eyes in thought. “The Chairman is talking to the police. Eat up, you lot. You might not get any sleep today.” Jiang turned to A-Tue, who raised a hand to speak.
“Can we just take her out? Is it a 'kill on sight'?”
“Dead is fine. Just bring that backpack back to me,” Jiang replied, taking a large gulp of beer.
“What exactly is in that bag?” A-Tue wiped chicken grease from his mouth with the back of his hand.
“100 million Yuan.”
“Whoa!” the henchmen exclaimed in unison.
“Motherf—er! This morning I drove a hundred kilometers to intercept those cyclists, but didn't see a damn thing.”
“A-Lor said he asked his police contacts to help search, but the outskirts where they were racing today don't have CCTV.”
“I bet she’s still in the city. Once I’m done eating, I’m heading out to look again,” A-Tue picked up his glass, preparing to stand.
Suddenly... Jiang’s phone blared.
Everyone froze. Jiang frowned at the incoming number, then pressed a finger to his lips. “Shhh!”
“Yes, Chairman,” Jiang listened silently, nodding to the voice on the other end.
“Understood. I’ll head there immediately.”
Jiang’s face bulged with veins. He grabbed a smoked pork leg and hurled it onto the table, roaring at the top of his lungs…
“You idiots! She slipped through to Yichang already! And here you are, sitting around eating pig brains! Move!”
*****************************
