The taxi wove through the streets of Chiang Mai's old town.
Dusk spread across the sky like a cloth soaked in ink, and one by one, the streetlights flickered on. Their warm yellow glow spilled through the car window, casting shifting patches of light and shadow across Brother Li's honest-looking face—like a filter hiding the calculations deep in his eyes.
Chen Rang leaned against the passenger seat, absentmindedly rubbing the strap of his backpack.
Outside the window, women in colorful saris walked by with bamboo baskets, fruit vendors shouted in broken Chinese, "Mango, sweet!" The strange language, the strange smells, the strange scenery—they wrapped around him like a thin veil, covering, at least for now, the cracks in his heart left by heartbreak.
Just as he was soaking in that fleeting peace brought by strangeness, Brother Li broke the silence.
"Almost there. The night market's up ahead. Let's grab something to eat first, then I'll take you to the hotel."
He turned with a smile, his mustache twitching as he spoke, his tone as familiar as an old hometown friend.
"Let me tell you, the tom yum soup at this night market? Best in town. Lots of tourists take taxis just to eat here. Tonight, I'll treat you to the real deal."
That word—*brother*—dropped into Chen Rang's heart like a piece of warm candy.
Up until now, he still felt a little uneasy about this "local guide" he'd only known for a few hours. But that affectionate address instantly closed the distance between them. He nodded, his nerves fading bit by bit, sneaking glances at Brother Li—floral shirt with sleeves rolled up to the forearms, an old mechanical watch, thick knuckles, calloused palms. He looked exactly like a man who'd worked hard on the road for years, genuine and straightforward. There was no way to connect him with the word "criminal."
When the taxi stopped at the lively alley, Chen Rang's impression of him warmed even more.
The moment he got out, a mix of spices, grilled meat, and fruit rushed into his nose. The alley was packed with people. Stalls on both sides glimmered with colorful scarves, wooden carvings, and silver jewelry. Vendors called out to tourists with enthusiasm, while motorbikes carefully nudged through the crowd, their horns beeping.
Brother Li led the way skillfully, greeting stall owners in Thai as they walked. That natural "local insider" vibe erased the last trace of doubt about his identity as a guide.
They soon reached the soup stall he'd mentioned.
It was small, just a few tables. The owner, a dark-skinned middle-aged woman, lit up when she saw Brother Li, saying something in Thai. He replied in Thai too, then turned back with a smile:
"She asked if I brought a friend. I told her you're my little brother from back home, first time in Country T, and I'm bringing you for some hot soup that tastes just like home."
If "brother" had warmed Chen Rang, then being called "little brother" sent ripples deeper into his chest.
It had been so long since anyone treated him like family, especially in a foreign place like this.
A little embarrassed, he lowered his head, fiddling with the utensils, his gratitude swelling. Even the lingering gloom from his breakup seemed to soften under this warmth.
The tom yum soup came soon after.
Orange-red broth, shrimp, mushrooms, kaffir lime leaves—steam curling upward, fragrant and rich.
Brother Li didn't start eating. Instead, he handed Chen Rang a pair of chopsticks.
"Go on, try it. If it's not spicy enough, tell me. I know the boss well, she'll add a couple more scoops of chili for you."
Chen Rang took them and tasted.
The sour and spicy hit exploded in his mouth, making his nose sweat, but oddly, it felt good—like it was releasing all the pent-up frustration, the pain of heartbreak, flushing it out with the flavor. He couldn't help but take another big sip.
Brother Li, watching his satisfied expression, smiled so wide his eyes nearly disappeared.
"Well? Didn't lie to you, right? Way more authentic than what you've had back in China."
"Yeah… it's delicious. Thanks, bro." Chen Rang said sincerely.
He didn't realize that, with food and care, Brother Li was carefully unlocking his defenses.
"No need to thank me!" Brother Li waved it off, poured himself some beer, and took a sip.
Then, like casual small talk, he shifted the topic from food to life:
"Back home, guys your age are probably all married with kids, right? Nobody at home bugged you for coming out here to relax?"
Chen Rang's chopsticks froze.
The scar of heartbreak was brushed again.
He didn't want to show weakness in front of this "brother" who was being so kind, so he ducked his head and took another sip of soup.
"Just me and my mom. She actually supports me coming here, told me to see more of the world."
He deliberately avoided mentioning the engagement ring left on the coffee table, or the five-year relationship he'd just lost. All he wanted was to forget the pain for a moment in this rare warmth.
Brother Li didn't press. He sighed, his tone carrying just the right touch of empathy.
"Young people should get out and see the world. Back when I was your age, I felt the same, like life had no hope. Then I came to Country T, and realized the world's so big—no need to stay stuck on one thing."
His gaze drifted to the window, as if lost in his own memories. That sincerity only deepened Chen Rang's trust.
After a pause, Brother Li's tone shifted, a hint of secrecy in his voice, like sharing an exclusive secret:
"By the way, next week I'm heading to a rural village. A buddy of mine's having a wedding there, invited me to help out. You've never seen a place like that—absolutely stunning. There's a river winding around the village, water so clear you can see the fish, and at night, the sky is full of stars. Ten times more beautiful than the videos I sent you."
Chen Rang's eyes lit up with longing.
He remembered those videos—the bamboo houses, the kids chasing butterflies in the fields. Exactly the kind of place he dreamed of escaping to. That yearning softened his guard against Brother Li's next words.
"Originally, I was just going alone." Brother Li caught the look in his eyes and knew the timing was right. His voice brimmed with thoughtful sincerity.
"But if you're interested, come with me. No tourists there, just locals. You'll experience the real Country T, way better than sightseeing in the city. And don't worry about money—my friend can set up lodging. Stick with me, you don't have to worry about a thing."
Chen Rang's heart moved, almost ready to agree on the spot.
But reason whispered—wasn't it risky to follow someone he'd just met a few hours ago to some village? That hesitation was his last psychological defense.
As if reading his mind, Brother Li didn't push. Instead, he chuckled, speaking as casually as if chatting:
"If you're not comfortable, no problem. I just think it'd be a shame not to take you. If you want, we'll go. If not, stay in the city, I'll take you to other places when I'm back. Either way, you'll have a great time."
That "not forcing it" only made Chen Rang feel guilty.
Was he overthinking? This "brother" was treating him so sincerely, looking out for him—how could he possibly mean harm?
Driven by that guilt, he clenched his teeth, looked up, and finally let down his guard completely:
"Bro, I want to go with you. Thanks for taking me."
"That's more like it!" Brother Li's eyes lit up. He slapped Chen Rang's shoulder so hard it made him wince slightly, but his head was full of village scenery now, too distracted to notice.
"Then it's settled! We'll leave Monday morning. It's about a three-hour drive. I'll come get you, just follow me."
After dinner, Brother Li led him to the hotel.
It was small but clean, right near the night market. Open the window, and you could see the alley lit up.
Handing over the keycard, Brother Li's tone stayed warm:
"Rest up. Tomorrow I'll take you around the old city, maybe buy some souvenirs for your mom. Call me if you need anything—I'm right next door."
"Thanks, bro." Chen Rang took the card, gratitude swelling in his chest.
Watching Brother Li leave, he went to the window and looked at the bustling night market below. His heart brimmed with anticipation for "next week's village trip." He thought this trip his "brother" had set in motion really could let him "start over."
He had no idea that what he saw as kindness was just paving a road straight to the abyss.
Meanwhile, in his own room, Brother Li's simple smile vanished without a trace.
He pulled out his phone, dialed a number, and his voice turned cold, laced with venom, nothing like the warmth from earlier:
"He took the bait. Monday I'll bring him to the village. Make sure your people are ready—don't screw this up."
A raspy voice on the other end warned:
"Boss Khun Sa is waiting for the 'goods.' You'd better not mess it up."
"Relax." Brother Li's lips twisted into a cold smirk, his eyes full of contempt.
"This guy's no different from the others—dumb as a rock. Just a few 'bros' and he's eating out of my hand. He's not going anywhere."
Hanging up, Brother Li walked to the window, looking at the light in Chen Rang's room.
From his pocket, he pulled out a photo—a young man about Chen Rang's age, eyes full of fear. His last "little brother," tricked with the same word. By now, that guy was probably already in the northern Myanmar scam compound, working himself to the bone just to survive.
Brother Li slipped the photo away, his smirk deepening. He knew Chen Rang would soon be the next one.
And right then, Chen Rang lay on the hotel bed, scrolling through the village photos Brother Li had sent, his excitement as bright as the lanterns outside. He looked again and again at the bamboo houses, the river, imagining the trip next week. He never noticed that every bit of care, every ounce of "kindness," was an invitation to northern Myanmar's abyss—and he had already accepted it with his own hands.
Time passed quickly. The next day, as promised, Brother Li took him around the old city.
At Wat Chiang Man, he took photos for him, even coached him on poses. At the weekend market, he taught him to bargain in Thai, shielded him from the crowd, protective like a real older brother.
A whole day together, and Chen Rang's guard was completely gone. He even scolded himself in his head: *How could I ever have doubted him? A guy this good could never be bad.*
That night, Chen Rang called his mom, excitedly sharing:
"Mom, I met this guy, Brother Li. He's amazing. Next week he's taking me to a rural village. The scenery there is gorgeous."
His mom, still worried, kept reminding him:
"You don't know him that well. Don't go too far off the beaten path. Be careful."
"Don't worry, Mom. Brother Li's a good guy, he'll take care of me." Chen Rang reassured her with a laugh, his voice full of trust.
"When I'm back, I'll bring you local specialties."
After the call, he packed what he needed for next week and went to bed early.
He dreamed a beautiful dream—walking with his "brother" into that village, the gentle wind by the river, the stars filling the sky. Even when Lin Xiao's shadow flickered in the dream, it didn't hurt anymore. He felt he was finally leaving the past behind, finally starting a new life.
But he didn't know that dream would soon shatter completely.
That "kind invitation" his "brother" handed him was about to drag him into a hell far worse than heartbreak—the scam compounds of northern Myanmar, a human purgatory.
And his bright hopes now would only make the coming despair cut deeper.