kingnovel Chapter 1389 Yunrui's Sincere Inscription: Frog
Chapter 1389 Yunrui's Sincere Inscription: Frog
Along the border between Chiang Mai and the Golden Triangle in Thailand, the name "Frog" is more effective than any official document.
No one knew his real name; all they knew was that this man, always wearing a tattered hat and never without a cigarette, was a "living map" navigating between the legal and illegal worlds.
On the surface, he is an entertainment reporter covering Southeast Asian celebrity gossip, holding a lot of private information about popular artists. In reality, he is an undercover reporter who has been lying low for ten years, specializing in digging up dirt on drug smuggling and armed separatism.
He was on friendly terms with drug dealers on the border, could get a free drink at banquets hosted by armed leaders, and even informants from the local police station had to give him face, since no one wanted their shady dealings to be reported by him and published in the international media.
Back when Qi Ruixiang was still an entertainment reporter, he once helped Qingwa cover up a crisis when his identity was exposed. Qingwa patted him on the shoulder and said, "Brother Qi, as long as you don't touch 'human debts' in Southeast Asia, I'll be there whenever you call."
At this moment, Qi Ruixiang stood under a telephone pole in Chiang Mai's old city, his fingers gripping his phone, listening to the static coming from the receiver, his heart still pounding from the jolt of landing.
The moment the call connected, that familiar, husky voice came through: "Reporter Qi? What a rare guest! What brings you to call a border outcast like me?"
"Brother Frog, your little brother's in trouble. How about repaying the favor you did for me back then?" Qi Ruixiang's voice was extremely low, his eyes scanning the surroundings warily.
Street vendors were calling out their wares in dialect, motorcycles roared past, and the air was filled with the spicy aroma of tom yum soup. But beneath this bustling surface, danger might lurk in the hands of anyone passing by. "Have you ever heard of..."
The person on the other end of the phone paused, and their previously casual tone instantly turned cold: "Are you crazy? He's the local tyrant of Black Rock Village, commanding hundreds of armed men. You, an entertainment worker, would just be a target for him if you went in!"
“She is the person I must save.” Qi Ruixiang’s knuckles clenched so tightly they turned white, but his voice was firm and unwavering. “Now only you can help me, but don’t worry, I will definitely not let you take the risk for nothing.”
Silence lingered for three seconds in the electric current before Frog finally sighed: "See you at 'Black Elephant Cafe' in two hours. Remember, dress as plainly as possible—the people here are very observant. If you dress like a city boss, you'll be spotted every three steps."
After hanging up the phone, Qi Ruixiang immediately took a taxi to the secondhand market.
He used to have a wardrobe full of high-thread-count cotton shirts, custom-made trousers, and leather shoes polished so hard they reflected his image; even the pattern on his socks had to be aligned with the cuffs of his shirts. But now, he squats in front of a dusty stall, rummaging through a pile of musty clothes—a faded camouflage T-shirt with a yellowed collar and unknown oil stains under its arm.
A pair of work pants with worn-out knees, the cuffs rolled up twice, and the exposed fabric still covered with hardened clumps of mud;
He wore a pair of rubber shoes with a small crack in the sole, and the mud on the uppers looked like they had just been stepped out of a rice paddy. Finally, he grabbed a baseball cap with frayed edges, the brim pulled low, just enough to cover most of his face.
After paying, Qi Ruixiang hid in a stall in the public restroom and quickly changed his clothes.
In the mottled mirror, the once sophisticated elite had vanished—he had sprayed two layers of dark-colored sunscreen on his face and neck, turning his originally fair skin dull. Coupled with his shabby clothes, he looked exactly like a homeless man struggling to make a living on the border.
He twitched the corners of his mouth in front of the mirror, trying to force a numb expression. He then deliberately hunched his back and imitated the gait of a roadside vendor for a couple of steps until he felt that he was exuding an aura of "not to be trifled with but not threatening." Only then did he clutch a bottle of cheap mineral water and head towards "Black Elephant Cafe."
The café is tucked away in a narrow alley, with faded red lanterns hanging at the entrance. Pushing open the door, you're greeted by a stench of smoke, alcohol, and sweat.
The lighting was dim, and several greasy wooden tables were filled with people, most of whom were wearing camouflage or work clothes, with bulging waistbands, obviously hiding weapons.
In the corner, a man wearing a tattered hat was smoking, his head down, a small pile of cigarette butts on the ash-covered table—it was a frog. He looked up, his eyes under the brim of his hat sweeping over Qi Ruixiang, but he didn't speak, only gesturing with his chin for him to sit down.
“Not bad, you’re starting to look like a border thug.” Frog stubbed out his cigarette, his voice low, his fingers tapping lightly on the table. “But appearances alone aren’t enough. The people here have ears sharper than dogs. The moment you open your mouth, they can tell whether you’re an ‘outsider’ or one of their own.”
He pulled a worn-out voice recorder from his pocket and shoved it into Qi Ruixiang's hand.
"Here I've compiled some dialects and slang. 'What' is called 'shazi', 'I don't know' is called 'xiaobude', and 'please' is called 'laofan ge'. Don't speak too fast, and add a slight ending sound, like you have a piece of candy in your mouth."
For the next three days, Qi Ruixiang completely immersed himself in life on the border.
Every day before dawn, he would follow Frog's informant—a drug dealer named "Atai"—and wander the streets and alleys.
Atai led him to squat in front of a roadside food stall, where he grabbed sticky rice with his hands and stuffed it into his mouth with spicy curry. Rice grains stuck to his fingers, and oil stains smeared his chin. Qi Ruixiang's stomach churned, but he could only force himself to swallow it down. Atai said, "Only people from the city use spoons. If you want people to notice your flaws, then be as particular as you want."
He imitated Atai, bowing his head and bending over when he spoke, avoiding eye contact with others, walking close to the wall, and even deliberately lowering his voice when he coughed.
When they encountered armed men carrying guns, Atai told him to stand still, put his hands in front of his chest, and look scared and obedient. He did as he was told, his heart was pounding like it was going to explode, but he could only force himself to stay calm.
The sensory shocks nearly overwhelmed him. During the day, he was surrounded by shouts in local dialects, the roar of motorcycles, and the occasional gunshot. The air was filled with a strange smell of sweat, spices, gunpowder, and drugs, and even a single breath made his throat hurt.
That night, he stayed in a run-down guesthouse arranged by Frog. The bed was as hard as stone, mosquitoes buzzed in his ears, and the sounds of a woman crying and a man arguing could be heard from afar.
Every time he heard these sounds, he would think of Qi Nian'an in the incubator in the hospital, and Yang Xiaotang's pale face. Guilt would surge up like a tide, but when he thought of Gu Yunxi possibly being locked in some dark corner, he would grit his teeth and clench his fists - he couldn't back down, if he backed down, Yunxi would really have no hope.
The change in mindset is happening day by day.
On the first day, he felt very uncomfortable, as if he were an actor wearing someone else's clothes. He deliberately imitated every movement and every word, afraid that any detail would give him away.
The next day, when he squatted by the roadside to eat, he no longer felt embarrassed to eat with his hands. When he heard gunshots in the distance, he could force himself not to tremble and just silently hide in the alley.
By the third day, he was already able to naturally bargain with vendors in the local dialect, and when he saw armed men passing by, he could put on a numb expression, as if he had long been used to this precarious life.
On the fourteenth day, he knew that he was gradually peeling away the identity behind the name "Qi Ruixiang"—the pampered businessman, the newly-fathered husband, was transforming into a "wanderer" who could survive on the border, and all of this was in order to step into Shen Chengyu's territory...