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Chapter 381: Chinatown  

"Hahaha, I won again! Big Three Dragons!"  

"Pay up, pay up, pay up..."  

Yaowarat Road, Chinatown.  

Flipping over the mahjong tiles, the old man grinned from ear to ear. Rubbing his fingers together, he cheerfully urged the others at the table to hand over the money.  

"Lao Qian, you’re on a lucky streak! How are you winning so much?"  

Watching yet another winning hand, the players at the table couldn't help but show frustration. As they reached into the drawer to pull out Thai baht, one of them spoke up.  

"You’re not cheating, are you?"  

"Cheating? What a joke!"  

Snatching the bills from their hands, Lao Qian immediately flared up at the accusation. "This is just a small game, barely worth a few hundred. I deal with business transactions worth tens of thousands—do you really think I'd bother cheating for a measly few hundred?"  

As he spoke, Lao Qian shuffled the tiles back into the pile and began mixing them while humming a Chinese opera tune.  

For some reason, his luck had been exceptional lately. In just a few rounds, he had made nearly as much as he earned from running his store.  

"It's almost time for my son to get out of school. Maybe we should wrap it up for today."  

Glancing at the clock, a middle-aged woman at the table spoke up.  

"Oh, come on! We’ve barely played a few rounds, and you already want to leave? Your son is fifteen or sixteen—he can get home by himself!"  

Hearing someone suggest ending the game, Lao Qian immediately looked displeased.  

His luck was running hot, and he wasn’t about to let the game break up now.  

Hearing his response, the woman hesitated. Feeling embarrassed to be the one dampening the mood, she stayed silent and continued playing.  

Ring, ring, ring—  

Just then, the old-fashioned cell phone sitting next to Lao Qian’s seat suddenly rang.  

Glancing at it instinctively, Lao Qian picked up the phone and checked the screen.  

"Lao Qian, Auntie Tai hasn’t even left yet—don’t you dare think about running off with your winnings!"  

"Me? Run away?!"  

Hearing the remark, Lao Qian immediately ignored his phone, slammed his hand on the table, and declared loudly, "Come on! If you’re all so eager to give me money, let’s go for three hundred more rounds—no one’s leaving!"  

"Master, were you able to reach your friend?"  

Wiping the sweat from his forehead, Ah Hao looked at his master, Lin Jiuying. Seeing him put down his phone, Ah Hao quickly asked.  

Bangkok was even hotter than he had expected. They had only been standing outside the airport for a short while, and he was already sweating.  

"He didn’t pick up. Maybe he forgot his phone or didn’t hear it."  

Lin Jiuying frowned and shook his head.  

It was their first time in Bangkok, a completely unfamiliar place. The only person they knew hadn’t shown up at the airport.  

Originally, they had planned to call for directions, but now even that wasn’t an option.  

Although Lin Jiuying didn’t think his friend would deceive him about coming abroad, doubt was creeping into his mind.  

"Forget it. Let’s take a cab."  

Suppressing his unease, Lin Jiuying maintained his composure in front of his disciple.  

"Oh."  

Hearing his master's decision, Ah Hao dared not ask any further.  

As his disciple, he had long understood his master's personality—Lin Jiuying was a man who never wavered and hated being questioned.  

"Driver, take us to Chinatown."  

Fortunately, if there was one thing Bangkok had no shortage of outside the airport, it was taxis.  

With minimal effort, Lin Jiuying and Ah Hao managed to flag down an empty cab.  

As he loaded their luggage into the trunk, Lin Jiuying leaned into the window and called out to the driver.  

"Where to?"  

The taxi driver looked confused, not understanding what he had said.  

"Master, we’re in Bangkok. You’re speaking Chinese—of course, he doesn’t understand."  

Finally seated inside the air-conditioned taxi, Ah Hao took a deep breath and pointed out the obvious.  

Realizing his mistake, Lin Jiuying quickly adjusted and recalled the name his friend had mentioned. Using hand gestures for emphasis, he told the driver, "Chinatown, Yaowarat..."  

"Oh, Yaowarat!"  

Luckily, taxi drivers near the airport had at least some basic foreign language skills. With the help of Lin Jiuying’s gestures, the dark-skinned driver finally understood. He gave them an "OK" sign and stepped on the gas, heading toward "Yaowarat."  

"Master, are you sure you gave the right location? I clearly heard the driver say ‘Yaowarat,’ not Chinatown."  

As the taxi sped away from the airport, Ah Hao couldn't shake a sense of unease.  

He was certain he had heard the driver say "Yaowarat" instead of Chinatown.  

"You don’t know anything. ‘Yaowarat’ is Thai for Chinatown."  

Seeing his disciple’s worried expression, Lin Jiuying refused to admit that he wasn’t entirely sure. Instead, he put on a confident front.  

"I’ve traveled far and wide for years. This is just Chinatown—of course, we’ll get there soon."  

Despite his words, as soon as he turned back around, his expression grew uneasy.  

Out of Ah Hao’s sight, Lin Jiuying quietly made a Taoist hand sign and muttered a prayer under his breath:  

"Ancestors of Maoshan, revered masters, please guide me in the right direction. I swear to make offerings of incense and tributes upon my return—just please, don’t let me get lost."  

As it turned out, the Maoshan ancestors were indeed reliable.  

The driver’s "Yaowarat" was, in fact, the correct destination—Yaowarat Road, also known as Chinatown.  

After nearly 40 to 50 minutes on the road, the taxi finally stopped in front of Yaowarat Road. The driver pointed at the prominent Chinese-style signs and turned to Lin Jiuying.  

"Yaowarat."  

"Phew..."  

Hearing the driver’s words, Lin Jiuying looked up at the Chinese signs along the bustling street. Finally, his tense heart relaxed.  

Silently thanking the Maoshan ancestors once more, he straightened his posture, put on a calm expression, and turned to Ah Hao, who was dozing off in the backseat.  

"We’re here. Wake up."  

"Huh? We’ve arrived?"  

Ah Hao groggily lifted his head, looking out at the busy street filled with familiar Chinese signs.  

For a moment, he almost forgot he was in a foreign country—he could’ve sworn he was back in Hong Kong.  

Chapter 382: Making a Call  

"Master, you're amazing! You found Chinatown’s address so easily."  

Carrying multiple bags, Ah Hao stepped out of the car and was immediately hit by the scorching heat of Bangkok.  

Standing under the blazing sun, he listened to the familiar Teochew dialect echoing from Chinatown ahead. Turning to Lin Jiuying beside him, he couldn't help but express his admiration.  

"Nonsense. If I couldn't even handle something this simple, would I have brought you along?"  

After paying the fare, Lin Jiuying stepped out of the taxi, his fingers brushing over his noticeably thinner wallet. A flash of pain flickered across his face—taking a taxi from Don Mueang International Airport to Bangkok’s Chinatown wasn’t cheap.  

However, hearing his disciple's praise, he quickly put on an expression of nonchalance, as if it were no big deal.  

Even though the taxi ride cost a fortune, at least they had arrived at their intended destination. Putting aside his financial heartache, Lin Jiuying lifted his gaze to take in Chinatown’s bustling streets, where Chinese signboards lined both sides. The sight of so many local Chinese made the whole place feel incredibly familiar—almost as if they had never left home.  

"Master, look! There’s even a temple here in Chinatown!"  

While Lin Jiuying was still marveling at the resilience of Chinese culture, Ah Hao had already spotted something intriguing. He quickly called out to his master, pointing excitedly.  

Following his disciple’s gaze, Lin Jiuying looked towards the end of the street and, sure enough, saw a pointed-roof temple in the distance.  

Given how deeply rooted Buddhism was in Thailand, it was no surprise that even Chinatown had its fair share of temples, each seemingly thriving with worshippers.  

Of course, as a devoted Taoist of the Maoshan sect, Lin Jiuying didn’t exactly dislike temples—but he certainly had no intention of visiting one.  

Retracting his gaze, he turned to glance at Ah Hao and scoffed, "Look at you making a fuss. Back home, I’ve never seen you show this much respect to our Maoshan ancestors. But now, here you are in a foreign country, all excited over a Buddhist temple?"  

"Master, what did I do to upset you this time?"  

Completely blindsided by the scolding, Ah Hao’s enthusiasm instantly deflated.  

Meanwhile, Lin Jiuying, after venting his frustration, felt significantly less annoyed. He turned his attention back to the bustling street and waved at Ah Hao. "What are you standing around for? Hurry up and keep up! Don't forget, we're not here for sightseeing."  

With that, he didn’t wait for a response and strode into the crowd.  

"Wait for me, Master!"  

Seeing Lin Jiuying disappearing into the crowd, Ah Hao frantically scanned his surroundings before hurriedly chasing after him, bags in tow.  

No way was he letting himself get left behind in an unfamiliar city! Without his master, even getting a meal would be a problem.  

More importantly, most of the Thai currency they had exchanged was in Lin Jiuying’s pocket!  

"Excuse me, excuse me..."  

Weaving through the dense crowd of Chinatown, the master and disciple duo moved forward. The scent of preserved meats and medicinal herbs filled the air, mixing with the lively sounds of Teochew dialect and bits of Thai.  

What caught Ah Hao’s attention the most, however, were the countless gold shops lining the street, their entrances gleaming with dazzling gold ornaments.  

"Master, are all Thai people this rich?"  

His eyes glued to the extravagant gold displays, Ah Hao swallowed hard and reluctantly tore his gaze away, turning to Lin Jiuying.  

"They're selling gold like it’s candy!"  

"Since when have monks ever been poor?"  

Lin Jiuying, also momentarily dazed by the abundance of gold, reached into his pocket and muttered, "Besides, is there anyone in the world who doesn't love gold?"  

Quickening his pace, he passed by numerous shops until he finally stopped in front of a general store.  

Raising his head, he read the sign: "Qian’s General Store."  

A wave of relief washed over him—this was the place.  

However, when he looked down, he immediately frowned.  

The store was closed.  

"Master, it’s shut."  

Panting from carrying the heavy bags, Ah Hao finally caught up and stated the obvious.  

"I'm not blind," Lin Jiuying snapped.  

Bang, bang, bang!  

He knocked on the store’s door a few times, but there was no response. It was as if no one was inside.  

"Who are you looking for?"  

From a nearby pharmacy, an elderly man with a head of white hair poked his head out and asked in heavily accented Teochew.  

"Sir, I’m looking for Qian Fazhong. I’m a friend of his and came specifically to find him," Lin Jiuying replied politely.  

"Qian Fazhong? Oh, you mean Old Qian? Haven’t seen him in days, no idea where he went..."  

"Wasn't he still open for business a few days ago? Could something have happened—"  

"Don't jinx it! I heard him singing opera upstairs just last night. He’s probably just out playing somewhere."  

"Where else would he go? The guy spends his days glued to his old radio, singing those outdated opera tunes. Now that I think about it, it has been unusually quiet these past few days—so he really hasn’t been opening his shop, huh?"  

As Lin Jiuying and the elderly man spoke, a few other shopkeepers emerged, all chiming in about Old Qian.  

Most business owners in Chinatown were Chinese, and after years of working side by side, they had naturally formed a close-knit community.  

From the conversation, Lin Jiuying pieced together that his friend’s shop had been closed for several days—coincidentally, since the time Qian Fazhong had called him.  

If Qian had really been in danger and reached out for help, why wasn’t he answering now?  

"Just call him. No point in us standing here worrying," the elderly man suggested.  

Realizing the logic in that, Lin Jiuying immediately pulled out his phone and dialed Qian Fazhong’s number.  

Ring, ring, ring!  

A few seconds later, a crisp ringtone echoed from inside the closed general store.  

Chapter 383: Bewitched  

Ring, ring—  

Ring, ring—ring, ring—  

The phone in Qian’s General Store kept ringing.  

"Master, no wonder he didn't answer the phone—he left it in the shop," Ahao muttered in realization, adjusting the backpack slipping off his shoulder as he stood outside the store.  

Frowning, he hung up the call, and the ringing inside the shop abruptly stopped.  

Hearing his apprentice’s words, Lin Jiuying stepped forward to the store’s entrance, tilting his head slightly to listen. His thick eyebrows furrowed, forming a deep crease in the middle of his forehead.  

"I think... he didn’t just forget his phone," Lin Jiuying said, shaking his head.  

"Master, did you notice something?" Ahao asked quickly.  

As his apprentice, he knew his master well. Although Lin Jiuying was stingy and petty in daily life, he was a true expert in his craft. He wouldn’t say something like this without reason.  

"Listen carefully."  

Instead of answering directly, Lin Jiuying pointed at the store’s entrance.  

Ahao immediately stepped forward, pressing his ear against the door.  

Not only Ahao—several curious onlookers from Chinatown also crowded around, straining to listen.  

Rustle, rustle—rustle, rustle!  

Pressing one hand over his other ear to block out background noise, Ahao faintly heard some movement coming from inside the store.  

"There really is a sound coming from inside!"  

Ahao wasn’t the only one who heard it. A dark-skinned Chinatown local also spoke up in surprise.  

"Are you serious? Why can’t I hear anything?"  

"Your hearing must be bad. Try standing where I am."  

"Wait… I hear it now! There really is some noise coming from inside!"  

The gathered crowd chattered excitedly, exchanging their observations.  

"That old miser Qian is really something else. He’s clearly inside, and his phone is working, yet he refuses to come out?" someone scoffed.  

"That doesn’t sound right. Old Qian may be greedy, but he’s not the type to pull something like this," another person defended him.  

After all, everyone in Chinatown had known each other for years. They had a good grasp of each other’s personalities.  

"Master, what’s going on here?"  

Ignoring the conversations around him, Ahao turned to his master for an explanation.  

Lin Jiuying remained silent for a moment, his fingers moving as if making calculations. After a few seconds, he spoke:  

"Maybe… it’s not that he didn’t hear the phone. It’s that he heard it but couldn’t come out."  

Without waiting for the crowd’s reaction, Lin Jiuying suddenly instructed his apprentice:  

"Ahao, give me a boost."  

"Got it, Master!"  

Ahao immediately responded. He set down his bags and interlocked his hands to create a foothold.  

With just a few quick steps, Lin Jiuying leaped onto Ahao’s hands and propelled himself upward, landing smoothly on the second-floor balcony.  

"Wow!"  

The entire sequence of events was fluid and effortless.  

The gathered Chinatown residents couldn’t help but cheer in admiration.  

Most buildings in Chinatown had a distinct architectural style—shops on the ground floor, with living spaces upstairs. Even so, the ceiling height was over two meters, making it nearly impossible for an average person to climb. Yet, Lin Jiuying had managed the feat using only Ahao’s support, without even touching the walls.  

Standing on the second-floor balcony, Lin Jiuying clasped his hands behind his back and gave Ahao a nod.  

Click!  

A few minutes later, the locked front door of the shop swung open.  

Rustle, rustle—  

With the door open, the rustling sound from inside became even clearer.  

"Master!"  

Seeing his master emerge from the shop, Ahao hurriedly picked up his bags and rushed over.  

"So, is he inside?" he asked eagerly.  

Lin Jiuying swept his gaze over Ahao and the curious Chinatown residents before nodding.  

"Yes, he’s inside. But…"  

"But what?"  

"But… he’s too preoccupied to care about us right now."  

His cryptic response left Ahao and the others bewildered.  

Instead of elaborating, Lin Jiuying grabbed Ahao’s backpack and said, "You’ll understand once you see for yourself."  

Following his lead, Ahao and the crowd made their way upstairs.  

"Heh, Red Dragon!"  

"Hahaha, of course!"  

"Kong! I love calling Kong! Who cares what you think—"  

"Don’t blame me for being ruthless. There are no family ties at the mahjong table. Once you sit down, even father and son have to settle their debts—"  

"Another win! Pay up, pay up!"  

"What? Jealous of my luck? This kind of luck is natural! Back in the day, I relied on this luck to make it big in Chinatown—"  

As they entered the second floor, the rustling grew even louder, accompanied by a voice muttering excitedly to itself.  

Unlike the shop below, the second floor had a more lived-in feel. A small kitchen was set up in the corner, a bedroom was on the left, and the right side housed a dimly lit living room with the curtains drawn.  

Only a single yellowish light illuminated the space. Under the dim glow, a mahjong table sat in the center, and at the table, Old Qian was seated—playing mahjong alone.  

The eerie scene sent chills down everyone’s spine.  

"Master… your friend isn’t senile, is he? Why is he playing mahjong alone… and so intensely, too?"  

Swallowing hard, Ahao glanced nervously at his master.  

"He’s not senile," Lin Jiuying replied, shaking his head. "He’s been bewitched."  

His brows furrowed as he watched Old Qian at the mahjong table.  

"He’s playing mahjong… with a ghost."  

Chapter 384: Opening the Eyes  

"Playing Mahjong with Ghosts?!"  

Lin Jiuying’s words were far more terrifying than dementia.  

Hearing his response, not only was Ah Hao stunned, but even the local Chinese spectators who had gathered to watch showed expressions of fear.  

Because Theravāda Buddhism is prevalent in Thailand, beliefs in ghosts and the supernatural are deeply ingrained. The Chinese immigrants who had lived there for so long had naturally adopted some of these beliefs. Just within a two-to-three-kilometer stretch of Chinatown, numerous temples had been built.  

One of Thailand’s three major Buddhist temples, the Golden Buddha Temple, was located right in Chinatown.  

Funded by the local Chinese community, the temple was relatively small in scale but had a thriving incense-burning tradition, attracting many monks and tourists.  

"Are you serious, Master?"  

Ah Hao turned his head to look at Lao Qian, who was happily playing Mahjong at the table. He was still skeptical.  

"I think dementia sounds more reasonable. Maybe we should call a local doctor?"  

"If only you had practiced more, you wouldn’t be so blind to the supernatural. No wonder you can’t see ghosts."  

Lin Jiuying shook his head at his disciple’s ignorance.  

He reached into his luggage and pulled out a wooden leaf carved from peachwood. Muttering an incantation under his breath, he made a few hand gestures over the leaf before wiping it across Ah Hao’s eyes.  

As the peachwood leaf passed over his eyes, a faint blue light flashed through Ah Hao’s vision.  

The first thing Ah Hao felt was a cool sensation in his eyes. He blinked instinctively. When he looked at the Mahjong table again, the once lonely scene had transformed—there were now four "players" at the table. Lao Qian was eagerly reaching out to collect money from the other three "people."  

"Sorry, I won again! Pay up, pay up!"  

As Lao Qian extended his hand, the three other "players" at the table, expressionless, each pulled out a stack of paper money from their drawers and handed it over.  

Lao Qian, completely unaware, licked his fingers, counted the paper money carefully, and acted as if he were handling Thai baht instead of funeral joss paper meant for the dead.  

"Master, it looks like your old friend has some good luck. Those ‘ghosts’ playing against him don’t stand a chance."  

Ah Hao swallowed hard, watching the eerie scene unfold in the living room.  

Since he had arrived on the second floor, Lao Qian had been on a winning streak, filling his drawer with stacks of ghost money.  

"Ghosts don’t mind losing. But the moment they win, that’s when things get really bad."  

Lin Jiuying shook his head grimly.  

"Why is that, Master?"  

Ah Hao asked, puzzled.  

**"Did you think playing Mahjong with ghosts comes without consequences? Ghosts play to find a substitute. As long as you win, you’re safe. But the moment you lose, the ghost will take something from you—maybe even your body.  

"When playing against ghosts, you start off winning because they’ve already exhausted their luck in life. But the longer you play, the more they drain your luck. And once your luck is gone, that’s when your nightmare begins."**  

"Then, Master, shouldn’t we wake him up before he starts losing? Otherwise, he’ll be doomed!"  

Ah Hao grew anxious as he glanced at the Mahjong table, where one human and three ghosts continued their game.  

"It’s not that simple. From what I can see, he’s already been under their spell for at least two or three days. These ghosts have spent this much time playing with him—they won’t let him go that easily. If we force them to stop, they might flip the table in anger."  

"Ghosts can flip tables?"  

"Even a rabbit will bite when cornered. What do you think a ghost will do?"  

"Then what should we do, Master? We can’t just let him keep playing!"  

Ah Hao was now visibly distressed.  

"Of course not."  

Lin Jiuying glanced at the Mahjong table, then turned to look at his disciple, deep in thought.  

After a moment, he sighed and looked at Ah Hao again.  

"I need some time to prepare. But first, we have to swap out the person who’s under the ghosts’ spell."  

Ah Hao felt a chill run down his spine. He had a bad feeling about where this was going.  

"Master… you’re not thinking…?"  

Lin Jiuying nodded, confirming Ah Hao’s worst fear.  

"Ah Hao, I need you to take Lao Qian’s place and play against the ghosts."  

"Master, I don’t even know how to play Mahjong!"  

"That doesn’t matter. At first, your luck will be stronger than theirs. You won’t lose, even if you play with your eyes closed."  

"But what if I make them mad?!"  

"Don’t worry. I’ll handle everything. Your job is just to distract them—you won’t be playing for long."  

Under Lin Jiuying’s firm reassurances—and his stern, unyielding gaze—Ah Hao finally nodded.  

He took slow, heavy steps forward, his expression like that of a warrior marching to his doom.  

Just then, one of the local Chinese men who had been eavesdropping couldn’t hold back any longer.  

"Daozhang (Taoist Master)?"  

The master and disciple hadn’t been keeping their conversation secret, so the onlookers had heard everything.  

They stared at Lao Qian, who sat alone at the Mahjong table, and pieced together the horrifying truth—he wasn’t playing alone.  

Several of them instinctively huddled together.  

One braver man stepped forward and spoke.  

"Is there anything we can do to help?"  

Lin Jiuying hadn’t explicitly introduced himself, but from his words and demeanor, it was clear he was a Taoist.  

The locals might not fully understand Taoist practices, but as Chinese immigrants, they had heard enough stories to know what a Taoist could do.  

Glancing at Ah Hao, who was approaching the Mahjong table, the man hesitated before asking again.  

"Really, Daozhang, don’t hesitate to ask. We all know Lao Qian—he’s been in Chinatown for decades. We can’t just sit back and do nothing."  

Once someone spoke up, others quickly followed.  

"Yeah! If there’s anything we can do, just tell us!"  

"Lao Qian is our neighbor! If we can help, we should!"  

Though their bravery wavered, they knew this wasn’t just about Lao Qian anymore.  

If ghosts could lure one person into a Mahjong game, who was to say they wouldn’t target someone else next?  

Especially since their shops were all near the general store—what if the ghosts came for them next?  

Helping Lao Qian was one thing. Saving themselves was another.  

This wasn’t just about being good neighbors.  

Chapter 385: Substitute  

"If you’re all willing to help, that would be the best possible outcome."  

Hearing the group take the initiative to offer assistance, whether their intentions were sincere or not, Lin Jiuying certainly wouldn’t let the opportunity slip by.  

The scene unfolding inside the general store was quite unexpected. Before arriving, he hadn't anticipated encountering a case of "ghosts playing mahjong."  

Turning his head, he glanced in the direction of the mahjong table before addressing the group.  

"Next, I will set up a ritual inside the store to communicate with the spirits and try to reason with them. Hopefully, we can persuade them to leave voluntarily."  

"But what if they refuse to leave, Master?"  

Following Lin Jiuying’s gaze, they looked toward the living room.  

Since they hadn’t opened their spiritual sight, the Chinese immigrants couldn’t see the three ghosts sitting around the mahjong table. However, the eerie atmosphere alone was enough to send chills down their spines.  

"That’s why I need your help," Lin Jiuying continued. "Prepare a bowl of rooster’s blood and some willow branches for me. We’ll try a peaceful approach first, which would be ideal. But if these ghosts refuse to back down, then they can’t blame me for taking action."  

Lin Jiuying’s words gave the group a bit of confidence. They gathered their courage, turned their eyes toward Lao Qian, who was engrossed in the game, and hesitantly asked another question.  

"Master, what if you drive these ghosts out of the general store, but they start haunting other shops in Chinatown instead?"  

They claimed to be concerned about Chinatown’s other residents, but in reality, they were terrified of being targeted themselves.  

"As the saying goes, 'People fear ghosts three parts, but ghosts fear people seven parts.' Usually, only those with extremely bad luck or those going through a streak of misfortune will get haunted. So, you don’t need to worry too much. If you’re still scared, after we deal with this situation, I’ll give you some talismans for free. Just stick them on your doors when you get home—common ghosts won’t dare approach."  

"If that’s the case, then that would be great!"  

Hearing Lin Jiuying’s reassurances, the group finally felt at ease. Without wasting any more time, they hurried off to gather the rooster’s blood and willow branches as instructed.  

"Master, wait here for a moment. We’ll go get the supplies right away!"  

"Does anyone know where to find a rooster?"  

"Obviously, at a restaurant! I remember Lucky House serves spicy rooster hot pot—asking them for some blood shouldn’t be a problem."  

"If I recall correctly, there are some willow trees near the Menam River..."  

As the Chinatown residents rushed off, only Lin Jiuying, his apprentice Ah Hao, and Lao Qian remained inside the store.  

Of course, that’s not counting the three ghosts sitting at the mahjong table.  

"Master."  

Walking toward the mahjong table, Ah Hao hesitated, then glanced back at Lin Jiuying.  

Seeing his master nod lightly, Ah Hao took a deep breath, nervously reached out, and patted Lao Qian on the shoulder. Swallowing hard, he muttered, "You’ve got quite the winning streak, huh?"  

Clatter—  

"Of course!"  

Lao Qian was shuffling the tiles when he heard the voice from above. Without looking up, he grinned and casually responded.  

"Why don’t I join in?"  

"No way! I’m on a roll—why should I..."  

Lao Qian started to protest but suddenly felt something was off. He turned his head and saw a young man he didn’t recognize standing behind him, forcing an awkward smile.  

"Who the hell are you? And what are you doing in my store?!"  

Lao Qian finally realized something was wrong.  

His mind had been clouded by the ghosts’ influence, and even though a stranger had entered his shop, he still couldn’t bring himself to take his hands off the mahjong tiles.  

"I came here with my master to find you," Ah Hao replied.  

Now standing so close, Ah Hao got an even clearer look at the three ghosts playing mahjong with Lao Qian.  

From his perspective, he could see a middle-aged woman with a cracked skull. Her head was covered in blood, and white brain matter continuously oozed from the wound. Beside her, a dark-skinned man had a machete lodged in his chest, which swayed with every movement as he shuffled the tiles.  

But the most grotesque of them all was the ghost sitting directly across from Lao Qian.  

Its mouth was wide open, and its entire tongue hung limply onto the mahjong table. Every time it moved its hands, the mahjong tiles got smeared with saliva.  

If Ah Hao hadn’t mentally prepared himself, he might have screamed on the spot.  

Even so, he deeply regretted allowing his master to open his spiritual sight. If he had known he would see ghosts in such gruesome detail—even their death wounds—he would have never agreed to it.  

While Ah Hao struggled to maintain his composure, Lao Qian, still seated at the mahjong table, turned in confusion.  

When he finally spotted Lin Jiuying standing in the distance, some of the haze in his mind seemed to clear. Slapping his forehead, he suddenly exclaimed, "Ah! My memory is getting worse. I was supposed to pick you and your master up at the airport, but I got so caught up in mahjong that I completely forgot!"  

"This is more than just being 'caught up' in a game," Ah Hao thought, glancing nervously at the three ghostly players.  

"Guys, how about we call it a night?"  

Lao Qian turned to the ghosts and suggested ending the game.  

The moment those words left his mouth, Ah Hao saw all three ghosts freeze in place. His heartbeat instantly quickened.  

"What’s this, Lao Qian? You’re just gonna leave after winning all our money?"  

"Auntie Tai even skipped picking up her kid from school to play with you!"  

The ghosts' faces darkened as they glared at Lao Qian, their voices cold and menacing.  

To Ah Hao, their words sounded eerie and terrifying, but to Lao Qian, they seemed completely normal.  

Looking conflicted, Lao Qian glanced at his mahjong tiles, then turned back toward Lin Jiuying. He hesitated before explaining, "It’s just... I have guests in the store now. This friend of mine—I haven’t seen him in decades. I invited him to Thailand, and as the host, I should be taking care of him. I already messed up by making him find his own way here from the airport. I can’t just ignore him again to keep playing, can I?"  

Lao Qian’s reasoning was fair, but the three ghosts at the table clearly didn’t care.  

As soon as he spoke, Ah Hao noticed their expressions darken even further.  

(End of Chapter)