Is this how you hit someone?

Such a foolish girl, how could Bai Haonan bear to lay a hand on her?

Standing by the roadside in that border city and exchanging just a few words, Yujiali seemed to realize that the sooner Bai Haonan left now, the better. She simply hung the small pendant from her own neck onto his, and a car with local license plates drove Bai Haonan and Ada away. The moment the car started moving, he heard a sudden burst of crying from behind, and Ada squeezed its head out from over its master's shoulder, responding with a whiny howl.

Sitting in the grungy passenger seat, watching the chaotic city streets outside, Bai Haonan did not look back, even though that tear-stained, red-rimmed face kept rolling over and over in his mind. Fragmentary images surfaced and sank: being held at knife-point with a challenging glare, whimpering like a long and lingering melody, scoldings filled with bitter disappointment at his failure to live up to expectations... Several shadows flashed past in rapid succession, and he had to take several deep breaths to suppress them all.

No one in this world is truly indispensable to another. In a few days, all of this would be completely forgotten.

Bai Haonan used this habitual callousness to ease his own mind.

Of course, the next few hours quickly successfully diverted his attention.

In just two hours, he and Ada switched through several cars consecutively in the gathering dusk—from off-road vehicles and pickups to trucks, traveling along national highways, mountain roads, and bumpy detours across barbed wire fences. Having completely lost all sense of direction, they even boarded a flat-bottomed ferry. Bai Haonan only vaguely remembered seeing such vessels back in Jiangzhou when he was a child—flat-bottomed boats with ramps at both ends capable of carrying a few trucks and cars, sliding silently and without lights across the water surface. When they disembarked, the boat was fully loaded with trucks, while the vehicles waiting to board seemed to be all sorts of luxury sedans and cars. However, he had no time to look around; he was simply beckoned to follow a line of large freight trucks onto the road. Sitting high up in the passenger seat, he let Ada doze off at his feet while using the light of his phone to flip through the kraft paper envelope that had been shoved into his hands just before boarding the ferry.

Inside was already an internal ASEAN passport, and the photograph was the headshot Bai Haonan had taken back when he was processing his supervisor ID badge at Jiazheng!

Apart from recognizing his own photo, there was also a stack of green banknotes that should be US dollars. Bai Haonan was basically completely illiterate regarding the text on all the other documents and slips of paper in his hand. He did not even know what his foreign name was or which country he supposedly belonged to, and nobody had handed him a manual on how to sneak across borders.

It was as if only at this moment did it suddenly dawn on him: going abroad to lie low was completely different from running amok domestically where you could just open your mouth and communicate freely in standard Mandarin.

Even with Bai Haonan's daredevil, nothing-matters-to-me attitude, he felt a twinge of apprehension right now. He secretly sized up the driver sitting beside him, observing whether the man looked fierce or harbored malicious intentions, only to find that this was entirely futile. As for the scenery outside, apart from the occasional flash of distant lights, there was nothing but pitch-black low forests or the silhouettes of hills under the night sky. Racing along a highway devoid of any streetlights, the illuminated patch cast by the headlights seemed to act like a hypnotic spell. Before long, Bai Haonan had actually fallen asleep right there in the passenger seat.

He seemed to dream vaguely of Chen Sufen asking him where his little white car had gone, followed by a whip-like roundhouse kick that jolted Bai Haonan awake. Through sleepy eyes, he realized it was the driver shaking him. Seeing that honest, amiable smile helped steady his nerves somewhat. "What?"

The driver's pronunciation completely baffled Bai Haonan, but a few hand gestures indicated that he should take the steering wheel. Having never driven a large truck before, Bai Haonan hesitated before nodding in agreement.

Sure enough, at a roadside spot ahead where everyone got out to relieve themselves and smoke, most of the drivers swapped places upon getting back in. Trying out the rather antiquated, heavy steering wheel and stepping on the accelerator and clutch, which required far more effort than those in high-end luxury cars, Bai Haonan quickly forgot his current predicament. He became as focused as a child playing bumper cars for the first time, easily swept away by the novelty of the experience.

The point was not where to head; he just needed to follow the rear lights of the vehicle ahead. Operating the relatively cumbersome truck forced Bai Haonan to concentrate fully. Meanwhile, the driver, now moved to the passenger seat, smilingly offered him a cigarette with a gesture. When politely declined, the man contentedly puffed away in a cloud of smoke before asking Bai Haonan something in a weirdly accented tongue. The only foreign words Bai Haonan knew were "fuck" and "shit"; as for popular favorites among the youth like Japanese expressions such as *yamete* or *ikuzo*, he hadn't a clue!

Now, naturally, it was just like a chicken talking to a duck, and he could only respond with an awkward, helpless smile, occasionally tempted to blurt out a hearty curse in Chinese.

Fortunately, Ada served as a social lubricant, flashing a goofy grin that kept the driver amused and chuckling for a good while, though Ada was soon tucked away beneath the seat again.

Perhaps a dozen minutes later, the reason for the driver swap became apparent. A checkpoint appeared ahead—a large gate structure resembling the grand entrance of a high-end residential complex back home. The drivers in the passenger seats hopped down one after another, skillfully going over to sign and register. Under the glare of floodlights, they could be seen casually slipping some cash into the hands of figures in uniform. The grey-uniformed police officers merely glanced at the fronts of the trucks, and before Bai Haonan's heart in his throat could even speed up its beat, they were back on the road.

The drivers even poked their heads out to cheerfully wave and jest a casual farewell to the uniformed men outside. The driving duties were not handed back to him as Bai Haonan had expected; after continuing onward for another two or three hours, another similar checkpoint appeared, followed by a similar procedure—though it seemed slightly different, which Bai Haonan couldn't quite make out clearly under the night glow.

When they resumed driving forward, traffic was now keeping to the left side of the road. The driver, who had taken a short nap, motioned for him to return to the passenger seat. The former footballer, completely ignorant of geography, naturally had no idea that in those few short hours, he had already crossed two Southeast Asian countries!

This tossing about thoroughly chased away any lingering sleepiness in Bai Haonan. As the sky outside quickly turned the color of a fish's belly and gradually grew bright, he hugged Ada and looked out at the completely different local customs and practices, confirming enough to know for sure that he was now in a foreign land.

At the very least, the license plates on the passing cars were different.

By this time, the terror of fleeing from loan sharks had vanished, and the lingering heartbreak of parting with the girl had faded; what remained was a slight trepidation regarding the unknown ahead, stemming primarily, no doubt, from the language barrier.

During breakfast, a couple of dozen drivers, attendants, and other companions sat together at roadside stalls, chattering away in a babble. Bai Haonan felt as though he realized for the very first time that he was a foreigner. Back in the days when foreign players paraded through his football club like a revolving door, he had never experienced such an intense sensation; perhaps here, he was the extreme minority.

However, just as visiting a pyramid scheme might quickly make someone notice the white socks worn by the members, the very first clear impression this country left upon him was the gesture of pressing palms together. It was a slight greeting where the ten fingertips were joined, though the palms didn't quite touch, with the centers slightly cupped—much like the Chinese greeting of saying "Hello" or "Have you eaten?" serving a similar functional purpose with no specific profound meaning, purely a polite gesture. Thus, when it was time to get back in the vehicle, Bai Haonan was able to return a quite standard palm-pressing greeting to the driver.

The dark-skinned driver smiled very gently and mirrored the gesture in return. Unfortunately, the two sides still could not communicate verbally, not even by the tiniest fraction. All he could do was keep swapping driving duties with the man to ensure they progressed without stopping or delaying.

This rather awkward state of affairs lasted until the afternoon, when Bai Haonan and this increasingly dwindling convoy finally arrived at a city unmistakably filled with tropical banana trees and various plants, dotted with flamboyant, brightly colored, yet somewhat chaotic architecture. Eventually, the last three vehicles drove into a noisy, bustling parking lot to unload cargo, and Bai Haonan was led to the freight yard entrance, where a monk wearing an apricot-yellow robe was waiting.

It was dusk. Whether it was because the surrounding plants, buildings, and the expressions on people's faces all carried a wild, naturally grown vibe that made him panic, the sight of this somewhat orderly monk gave Bai Haonan a sense of familiarity for the very first time in his life, especially when the man addressed him in fluent Mandarin: "Are you Mr. Wang Jianguo?"

He almost burst into tears!

Finally, someone who spoke human language!

The monk looked to be in his forties—older than Bai Haonan had guessed for someone who should be a leader figure. Barefoot, the monk first brought his palms together in greeting. Fortunately, Bai Haonan had grown quite practiced at this and hurriedly returned the bow, affirming his identity. The monk smiled amiably and said that Master Tianlong had arranged for him to come pick him up. Then, amidst the respectful bows and joined palms of many people around them, the monk turned and walked away. Bai Haonan now knew to return the palm-pressing gesture of farewell to everyone around him one by one. Ada nearly wagged its tail right off its body, even though that half-tail was now nothing more than a stub.

Hurrying to catch up to the monk, Bai Haonan felt he had been holding things in for far too long: "Where am I right now? Is the whole city like this? It feels pretty much like a rural suburb back in China, though... ah, those golden buildings are certainly very pretty..."

The monk smiled and nodded without replying. Bai Haonan did not realize that at this moment, he was acting just like Li Lin previously, chattering endlessly beside the monk simply to vent the anxiety in his heart. However, as they walked out of this slightly secluded street, people by the roadside dropped to their knees one after another upon seeing the monk. The middle-aged monk consistently maintained his benevolent expression, pressing his palms together in response, occasionally pausing to touch someone's head and murmur a few words. Afterward, those people didn't look exceptionally elated, but their expressions were deeply fulfilled, and in passing, they generously bestowed smiles upon Bai Haonan walking beside him.

Finally, what left Bai Haonan utterly dumbfounded was discovering that his ultimate destination was a glittering temple. That cluster of towering, magnificent spires, covered in what looked like golden stainless steel, practically blinded the eyes under the pure blue twilight sky. The intricate and complicated architectural forms defied description by an uneducated person like Bai Haonan, but at the very least, from the moment he stepped through the gate, the dense religious atmosphere they had experienced all along the street reached its absolute peak. There were many tourists, but all the locals maintained an extremely pious and respectful attitude toward every building and every monk, even offering bows to Bai Haonan as well. As a result, all the way along this path, Bai Haonan nearly broke his back bowing back—thank goodness he used to be an athlete!

Entering the temple, the middle-aged monk switched to quick, mincing steps, no longer engaging or chattering with anyone. He guided Bai Haonan and Ada in a fast-paced trek hugging the courtyard walls, moving like two large rats leading their pups. Bai Haonan began to worry that Ada might cause trouble in the temple, but the dog turned out to be even more sensitive to the atmosphere than he was, tucking its tail and closely trailing its master.

Finally, in a garden-like patch of open lawn, they met an elderly monk who clearly held a very high rank—the exact archetype of a Shaolin abbot often spoken of in martial arts novels. His face was weathered and full of wrinkles, yet he radiated vitality. Draped in monastic robes with one arm bared, he sat cross-legged, speaking in an endless stream in a language Bai Haonan could not understand. Dozens of people sat or stood around him; a minority wore monk's robes, but the majority were impeccably dressed and appeared quite affluent, while a few were more poorly clad, yet all wore expressions of rapt attention directed toward the elevated seat.

The middle-aged monk did not disturb Bai Haonan's observations and gawking; he simply pointed to a spot for him before returning to stand respectfully behind the elderly monk, where several other monks had already gathered.

What could Bai Haonan possibly understand? He probably couldn't even follow it if it were spoken in Chinese, but the novelty and freshness kept him from yawning. Following the example of the others, he knelt and sat on the ground, using the opportunity to stroke Ada's spine to keep the dog lying quietly.

In truth, it didn't take long. Seeing everyone else around him stand up and automatically form a line, Bai Haonan dazedly mixed himself into the crowd. The winding, lengthy queue lacked any rigid order, but it ultimately led directly in front of the elderly monk. At first, Bai Haonan assumed it would be like the middle-aged monk—getting a head-pat and a brief chant. Instead, he saw several other monks carrying basins and a bundle of brooms over, and the elderly monk dipped a broom into whatever water was in the basin and proceeded to smack everyone right on the head with it!

That's right—that object was a bundle of coarse, tough, withered plant stalks bound together to the thickness of a cup's mouth, and once soaked in water, it looked quite heavy. The elderly monk adopted the posture of an executioner about to behead someone and landed heavy blows straight onto the heads of the people in front of him!

Bai Haonan watched in sheer astonishment as a slender, petite woman was nearly knocked flat to the ground by a single swipe of that broom. Yet, with a look of utter fulfillment, she pressed her palms together to express her gratitude before leaving. Meanwhile, the person behind Bai Haonan used their joined hands to urge him to keep up with the queue and take his beating. Some of the taller individuals even knelt directly before the elderly monk to make it easier for him to put force into it. On occasion, the elderly monk would put extra muscle into it and thwack someone multiple times—seeing the sheer impact of those blows made Bai Haonan's cervical vertebrae instinctively shrink inward!

Thus, when his turn finally came, Bai Haonan closed his eyes and stretched out his neck with the mental preparation of heading a soccer ball, only to unexpectedly feel the wet broom merely flick a few drops of water onto his neck and gently pass over him. Believing he had been given special treatment and let through a backdoor, he beamed broadly as he opened his eyes and kept pressing his palms together in gratitude. The elderly monk squinted at him and quickly raised the broom to move on to the next person. Bai Haonan distinctly heard the water-logged broom strike the head of the local man behind him with a crisp *thwack*, sounding just like a small leather whip lashing against flesh!

Unlike most others who knelt, pressed palms, and departed, Bai Haonan followed the lead of the middle-aged monk who had met him earlier, waiting off to the side with Ada.

With so many people, giving each person a head-beating was quite an exhausting endeavor for the elderly monk, and it was evident that he was striking with genuine force. By the last few people, he was swaying slightly from physical exhaustion, yet he persevered until the very end, until those individuals departed with expressions of overwhelming gratitude.

Bai Haonan felt as though he had arrived at a madhouse, and harbored a few anxieties about his upcoming two-year monastic career. If these people weren't crazy, what were they?

Finally, the elderly monk was supported back into the main temple buildings by attendants. As he passed Bai Haonan, sweating profusely and breathing weakly, he motioned to stop and looked at Bai Haonan. Bai Haonan hurriedly pressed his palms together, though his gaze lacked the clear-cut piety of the others; instead, with shifty, darting eyes, he peeked at the old monk's expression—a purely instinctive, reflexive reaction.

The old monk simply looked at him calmly, a gaze that made Bai Haonan's skin crawl all the more. Could this be some sort of Shaolin or Wudang sect in Thailand, where people randomly grabbed folks for a brutal thrashing?

Could it be that seeing how sturdy and fit his physique was, they decided to skip the broom and bring out a barrage of wooden staves instead?

Thus, the look in Bai Haonan's eyes grew even more suspicious and hesitant. He even deliberately tugged out the pendant Yujiali had left him from beneath his collar to signal mutely: *Hey, we're actually on the same side!*

After a short while, the old monk's ragged breathing calmed down, and he spoke in a soft, gentle voice: "Do you... have anything to say to me?"

The sound of Chinese made Bai Haonan feel much more warmly disposed. This sudden, gentle inquiry caused him to pause for a moment before blurting out: "Your... lower stance is a bit unstable. You really ought to practice deep squats!"

If this were a comic book, the dozen or so monks gathered around would have all collapsed backward onto the floor, vomiting blood.

This was Master Tianlong, renowned throughout all of Thailand!

To be struck by his broom was considered a blessing accumulated over three lifetimes; how could anyone respond with such flippancy?

He thoroughly deserved a beating!