Two years ago.
The night in Bangkok was humid and stifling.
Moonlight bathed the Chao Phraya River in silvery radiance, making its surface shimmer.
Ji Linlin crouched by the river in a long, moon-white dress.
Her black hair was casually tied up in a bun, with a few strands falling softly against her face. She looked lively, yet composed.
Carefully, she set the river lantern she had made herself onto the water.
Her fingertips skimmed the surface, sending out tiny ripples.
Then she closed her eyes and pressed her palms together.
“This humble believer, Linlin, has come here today with a devout heart. I hope the gods will hear my prayer.”
“I hope Mother’s illness will get better soon, and that she’ll be free from the torment of sickness.”
Moonlight fell on her smooth, fair skin, bringing out the natural blush in her cheeks, as lovely as peach blossoms in spring.
Her thick lashes rested like wings, casting dappled shadows beneath her eyes.
She looked both delicate and ethereal.
“Thank you for your blessing, gods.”
The river lantern drifted farther and farther away on the evening breeze. Only when it had disappeared from sight did Ji Linlin slowly get to her feet.
She smoothed the wrinkles from her skirt and walked along the riverbank toward her grandmother’s house.
Mother Wani’s illness was getting worse and worse. She had taken many medicines, but nothing had helped.
Father had sent Mother to stay at Grandma’s house in the suburbs so she could rest and recover.
Ji Linlin had once heard a classmate say that during Ghost Face Festival, if you set a river lantern afloat, the gods would hear your wishes.
That was why she had come here alone to release one.
Night deepened.
The houses near the river had all gone dark, except for the one at the far left, where a faint light still showed through the window.
Inside the house,
a hard-faced man with curly hair had a voluptuous blonde woman pressed against a table, kissing her impatiently.
As he kissed her, he roughly tugged at the hem of her dress, eager to vent his desire.
The woman wrapped her arms around his neck and called his name with a tremble in her voice.
“Paul, I heard today is Thailand’s Ghost Festival.”
She spoke in Italian.
Paul paused, then teased her dismissively. “Afraid of ghosts?”
The woman’s face gradually turned pale. She didn’t answer.
Paul didn’t care. His grin widened. “Even if there are ghosts, you’re the only one here—a bewitching, seductive ghost.”
Soon, the woman’s gasps and moans filled the room.
“Bang!”
The door was suddenly kicked open from outside with brutal force.
The unexpected crash interrupted the couple making love on the table.
The woman’s face went completely white. She leapt down from the table and cowered behind the man, panic-stricken.
A ghost—a ghost had come, hadn’t it?
She was so frightened she hadn’t even had time to straighten her skirt. Her trembling legs were left exposed in the dim light.
Paul pulled up his trousers with one hand and reached for the gun on the edge of the table with the other.
But just before he could touch it, someone kicked him with tremendous force.
He slammed heavily to the floor, and the gun fell beside him.
He bent to pick it up, but a gleaming leather shoe pinned it firmly to the ground.
Not only had his fun been interrupted, but his gun was being humiliatingly held beneath someone’s shoe.
Fury surged through Paul. “Fuck! Who the hell are you?”
He struggled to get up, only to be kicked hard again.
Then he felt something cold press against his temple.
The dark barrel of a gun was aimed at him with deadly precision.
Paul sucked in a breath, his heart suddenly leaping into his throat.
The person holding the gun spoke with a hint of mockery. “Who am I? I’m the ghost who’s come to claim your life.”
He pressed down harder with his wrist and said scornfully,
“Kaweila’s property isn’t for just any stray dog or cat to touch.”
The pressure of the gun barrel dug into Paul’s temple.
The moment he recognized who had come, his face blanched with shock.
“Excellency Helan, don’t—don’t kill me.”
Outside, the door of a black Jeep slowly swung open, and a long, straight leg stepped briskly out.
The man was very young.
He wore a black English-style suit and black leather shoes, and was tall and lean.
His hair was dark gold. His tea-brown eyes were deep and indifferent, impossible to read.
His features were strikingly handsome.
A cigarette rested between his long, sharply defined fingers, its ember brightening and fading in the night.
Smoke and moonlight curled around the sharply contoured side of his face, leaving his distinct features half-veiled and hard to make out.
But nothing could conceal the danger radiating from him.
He crushed out the cigarette and walked into the house beneath the moonlight, looking down at the man pinned to the floor.
“Where is it?”
His voice was terrifyingly deep, as if it had risen from the depths of hell.
His seemingly languid tea-brown eyes were full of aggression, brimming with barely restrained wildness and ferocity.
Paul trembled beneath the man’s blazing gaze.
Half an hour earlier,
he had taken the item from the museum curator and hidden in this remote village under the protection of the Monzhao Family.
He hadn’t expected Huo Jiulin to track him down so quickly.
Kaweila International, able to command the winds and rains across Southern Europe, was indeed not to be underestimated.
Paul knew all too well the methods and manner of Huo Jiulin, Kaweila’s godfather of the underworld.
He was ruthless and decisive, and wouldn’t tolerate even the slightest offense.
Cold sweat streamed down Paul’s back. He stammered,
“Mr. Huo, if I tell you where the item is, will you spare my life?”
Huo Jiulin glanced at him with a piercing gaze but said nothing, calmly fastening the buttons at his cuffs.
Beneath them was a line of fearsome tattoos.
They ran from the back of his hand all the way up his arm, grotesque and conspicuous.
They seemed to tell the story of his extraordinary life.
Paul looked up, trembling all over, his voice shaking too.
“Mr. Huo, I—I was threatened by the Monzhao Family. They have the item. I’m absolutely loyal to you…”
Huo Jiulin turned his head and glanced at Qiaoke Helan beside him.
Understanding at once, Qiaoke lowered his head and gave Paul an enigmatic smile.
“You’ve been with Kaweila all this time. You still don’t understand what your Mr. Huo is like?”
Still smiling, he said evenly, “He doesn’t do multiple-choice questions.”
He paused, then added, “He wants the item—and your life.”
The words had barely left his mouth when—
“Bang!”
A sharp gunshot rang out.
Paul was shot in the head and collapsed where he stood.
Crimson blood gushed from the center of his brow and slowly seeped into the damp ground.
“Ah!”
The blonde woman screamed at the sight and ran for the door without a second thought.
Qiaoke chased after her and pressed the muzzle of his gun to her horrified face, though his expression was full of regret.
“You’re beautiful, and you have a great figure.”
“Too bad you chose the wrong man.”
The woman’s face was drained of color. She shook her head in terror. “Please, don’t kill me.”
“Bang!”
Another gunshot rang out inside the house.
The woman’s shrieks cut off abruptly.
At the same time, Ji Linlin, passing by outside, was so terrified by the gunshot and the scene before her that she felt as if her soul had left her body.
She had…
stumbled upon a… a murder scene!
For a moment, she was too terrified even to think. She forced her weak legs to carry her forward.
But her feet felt unbearably heavy, and every step was a struggle.
She didn’t know what she’d tripped over, but she pitched forward and hit the ground.
Trembling all over, she looked up—and met a pair of fierce, cold tea-brown eyes.
The man before her was tall, probably no shorter than 190 centimeters.
Dark-gold hair, tea-brown eyes, a high nose bridge, and sharply defined features.
Clearly, he wasn’t Asian.
So he wasn’t Thai.
Ji Linlin was so frightened she nearly forgot to breathe, but she still forced herself to stay calm and stammered out a sentence in English.
“U-Uncle, I—I didn’t see anything just now.”