Chapter 0009 The Red-Eyed Prai Ngang
Frank Fang was clearly jealous that I made over 30,000 Baht on a single amulet sale. That night, he made me pay for a massive seafood feast at an upscale restaurant, and then we went to a KTV, where he hired four beautiful women and partied until dawn. Honestly, because Thai ladyboys are so famous, whenever I see a beautiful woman in Thailand, I immediately suspect she might be a man who had surgery. I felt extremely awkward being intimate with them and definitely didn't dare to have sex. Frank Fang, however, was completely uninhibited. He took three Thai girls to stay the night. I honestly had no idea if he planned to do that with all three or just chat and tell jokes—could he even handle it?
The bill the next day totaled over 10,000 Baht. My heart ached, but the thought that I might cooperate with Frank Fang again in the future provided some comfort.
To easily contact customers, I acquired a local Thai SIM card. I then activated international direct dialing on both this card and my original Shenyang card. Though expensive, I was willing to bear the cost to earn more money. No pain, no gain. I first gave the numbers to my family, classmates, and friends, and then sent them to my Shenyang classmates, Lü, and Brother Ming, telling them to call the Thai number if they had an important matter while I was in Thailand. A few nights later, around eleven o'clock, I had just fallen asleep when Brother Ming called, his tone anxious. "Tien Chi, I'm in trouble. I can't spend the money I won playing Mahjong today. What do I do?"
I was surprised. "Money that you can't spend?"
Brother Ming said, "You know how good my luck has been lately; I keep winning. Two of my friends didn't believe it, so they dragged me out to a friend's farmhouse outside Fushun to play Mahjong. I played all day. I could tell those guys were colluding, but I still beat them. But now it's already eleven o'clock. This place is extremely remote. It takes an hour to drive to the city center. I don't have enough time. What should I do?"
His predicament frustrated me as well. "Why don't you switch games, play cards or Pai Gow, and try to lose the money back to them?"
Brother Ming nearly cried. "It's no use! I even tried rock-paper-scissors! I ended up winning an extra two thousand plus! There are two small restaurants nearby. I bought all the food they had—sixteen tables' worth of dishes—but I still have over three thousand left. What should I do?"
I told him I couldn't help, advising him to drive back to the city center as fast as possible, to a place with malls or supermarkets, and try to spend the money before midnight. Brother Ming asked, "Is this thing you gave me really that evil? What happens if I don't spend the money?"
I said, "I don't know, but I told you the rules. Don't blame me if anything bad happens. I advise you to drive now and don't waste any more time!" Brother Ming grudgingly hung up the phone.
The conversation had completely ruined my sleep. An hour later, I couldn't resist calling Brother Ming to ask if he'd managed to spend the money. Brother Ming said, "I managed. I saw a small convenience store by the road. It was closed, but I banged on the door until the owner thought I was trying to rob her. She nearly fainted from fright. I told her to quickly tally up 2,000 RMB worth of goods, and I finally got through that hurdle."
Brother Ming's story made me laugh out loud, and I was finally relieved. The hurdle was cleared. Brother Ming sighed. "Tien Chi, this is the first time in my life I've had to work this hard to spend money. I'm never going to the suburbs to play Mahjong again. I'm only playing in the city, whether they like it or not!"
I agreed with him and finally slept soundly for the rest of the night.
Seven or eight days later, Brother Ming called again, nervously asking me, "A few nights ago, I couldn't sleep because I felt anxious. I vaguely saw a figure standing by my bed, completely black with red lights for eyes. It kept saying, 'You didn't follow the rules; you must pay your debt.' What in the world is going on?"
My blood ran cold. A figure with red lights for eyes? Isn't that the visage of the Red-Eyed Prai Ngang? But I had to comfort him. "Don't worry. As long as you are sure you didn't break any rules, it's probably just a case of dreaming about what you think about during the day."
Brother Ming was stammering a bit. I pressed him on whether he had broken the rules, and he denied it, claiming he hadn't played Mahjong much lately and was focusing on his business. Honestly, I felt uneasy. Why would Brother Ming have such a dream? But other than worrying, there was nothing I could do.
About a week later, I was having dinner with my cousin when my phone rang. Seeing Brother Ming's name on the screen, I thought, This guy is a lot of trouble. Money is hard to earn, and so is this 7,000 RMB. The moment I answered, Brother Ming's shout came through the speaker: "You bastard, give me back my son! Give me back my son's life!"
I was stunned by the cursing and quickly asked what he meant. Brother Ming yelled, "What do I mean? What do you think I mean? My son is gone! You killed him!"
That confused me even more. "How could I have killed your son? Brother Ming, are you drunk?"
Brother Ming cursed, "Drunk my ass! You get back to Shenyang right now! I'm going to flay you alive!" I didn't want to argue with a drunk, so I hung up the phone. Brother Ming called dozens of times, but I simply turned my phone off. The next morning, I powered up my phone and saw a text message from Brother Ming: "I'm finished. I broke the rule."
I had a terrible feeling and called Brother Ming back. This time, he didn't curse but cried uncontrollably. "I broke the rule. I killed my son!"
Under my persistent questioning, Brother Ming finally revealed the truth: he had told a lie earlier.
That night, when he was driving from the Fushun suburbs to the city, he did indeed find a convenience store. Brother Ming slammed all his winnings, totaling over 2,300 RMB, onto the counter. Coincidentally, the owner frantically gathered up all the inventory in the store, which added up to only 2,200-plus RMB—he was still short 100 RMB worth of goods. Brother Ming was desperate. The owner searched everywhere and couldn't find a single match to sell. Helpless, Brother Ming loaded the purchases into his car and continued driving. By then, it was past midnight. He couldn't make it to the city. Forced by the situation, he pulled over and burned the last 100 RMB with a lighter by the side of the road.
When he got home, Brother Ming felt guilty. To reassure himself, he adopted a naive mentality, thinking, The damn rule only said I couldn't give the money away or lose it, but it didn't say I couldn't burn it, right?
A few days later, he started having that nightmare about the red-eyed man standing by his bed. He had the dream for three consecutive days, then it stopped. Brother Ming gradually forgot about it. On the seventh afternoon, his son, Xiaohu, called him, asking to be picked up from school. Brother Ming doted on his son, and this was usually a set routine. But that day, oddly, Brother Ming had hit a maximum hand in Mahjong, just one self-draw away from winning. If he drew it, he could win over 10,000 RMB from that hand. He really didn't want to leave, so he told his son to walk home with his classmates and be careful. Xiaohu had no choice but to comply.
As he was walking with two classmates, Xiaohu suddenly pointed at the road. "Look! There's 100 RMB on the ground!" A gust of wind blew, and Xiaohu ran into the middle of the road, seemingly chasing something. A speeding bus struck him immediately, and he died on the spot.
Brother Ming only saw his son's cold body at the hospital. He nearly passed out, wailing and sobbing while holding his son. During the subsequent police investigation, the two classmates said they never saw any money on the ground. They also interviewed nearby pedestrians, and the result was the same: there was no 100 RMB banknote.
Xiaohu was Brother Ming's only son. Because Brother Ming was a heavy gambler, his wife had divorced him. To facilitate her remarriage, she had agreed with Brother Ming to give him custody of Xiaohu.
On the phone, Brother Ming cried, "I've always been lazy about my career, but I put all my heart into Xiaohu... I'm uneducated, so I was worried about his studies. I hired a tutor to check his homework every day. You think it was easy for me? How could he just die... You didn't see it, the accident was awful. Half of his head was... gone..."
I couldn't answer that question. Was it a coincidence, or was it retribution for breaking the rule from the ghosts and gods? I didn't know. But the timing was too coincidental. Brother Ming failed to spend 100 RMB, and his son Xiaohu was killed by a mysterious, invisible 100 RMB banknote. Could the world truly be that coincidental?