Book One · Chance Encounter
We pass each other by,
Never knowing whose life fate will place in whose path.
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February in Hangzhou was bitterly cold. The Spring Festival had just ended, and the streets that once bustled with traffic were now deserted, their usual clamor replaced by an eerie quiet.
In years to come, every winter he would think of them—the countless souls in this world who had never known the cold, never worn a thick coat, never pulled on high boots or wrapped a scarf around their neck, never imagined that their own breath could turn white and hang visible in the air.
Just before the holiday, He Mu received a call from a key client: after the new year, he was to accompany them on a market research trip to Thailand. As one of their largest suppliers, he had to go—it was part of the strategic partnership.
He had long heard that Thailand's commercial energy was thriving. Compared to the sluggish domestic market, with its labyrinthine debt chains and accounts receivable that lingered for years unpaid, this prospect excited him immensely. His unrestrained nature, combined with a keen desire to roam a foreign land, got him out of bed early. The barbershop he frequented hadn't opened the day before, but thankfully the owner, who knew him well, made an exception and opened early just for him. After a careful trim, He Mu packed a simple bag, tucked his passport and ID into his pocket, and boarded the high-speed train for Shanghai.
An hour later, he met the client at Hongqiao Airport. An eight-person delegation, led by the chairman himself, accompanied by key department heads. They boarded the plane, and 260 minutes later, He Mu set foot on this scorching land.
Arriving at Suvarnabhumi Airport, stepping out of the terminal, He Mu was stunned by the wave of heat that hit him. Thirty-four degrees Celsius—compared to Hangzhou's freezing zero, the contrast was astonishing. Changing in the restroom from his down jacket to a short-sleeved shirt, the sheer intensity of the temperature shift made him feel the powerful allure of this land.
There were many Westerners here, Indians coming and going in an endless stream, and no shortage of Chinese either. Faces were wreathed in smiles; people chatted easily, dressed in shorts and short sleeves. Everywhere you looked, there were vibrant, unrestrained tropical patterns. The vivid colors reflected off this metropolis bathed in blazing sun and rolling heat waves, a strangely harmonious sight. Roads choked with traffic, buildings of varying heights, electric wires tangled like spider webs, billboards crammed in tight rows—he felt he had come to the right place. This was a country ripe for development. Big development meant big progress, and big progress meant big opportunities.
From the airport to the Pattana Golf Hotel in Chonburi was about a ninety-minute drive. The route combined highways and national roads. He Mu was surprised to find that over those ninety kilometers, nearly every stretch—national roads, provincial roads, district roads—had only motor vehicle lanes. There were none of the dedicated bicycle lanes or sidewalks you'd find back in China. Pedestrians were scarce. Motorbikes flashed past in droves, while pickups, sedans, and trucks clogged the roads. Traffic lights were few and far between; U-turn intersections were designed to replace them. Compared to the dense network of cameras back home, here it was almost zero. With nothing overhead to block the view, He Mu felt the sky was incredibly high and wide.
It was close to midday. The sun blazed, the sky was a clear, pure blue, like a calm sea. Watching the busy roads and the speeding vehicles, he truly felt Thailand's vibrant energy.
The hotel was a resort situated right off Highway 311, boasting an 18-hole golf course. Entering the roundabout at the hotel's entrance, the golf service point was on the left. Dozens of golf carts were parked in neat rows. A row of caddies in green-and-yellow uniforms smiled and greeted them. Most caddies were women, primarily Thai, but there were also Black, Filipino, and Indian women. They were mostly in their twenties and thirties, their smiles bright and friendly.
The hotel sat right next to the course, cleverly nestled between jungle and valley, as if they had been invited into a painting.
The depth of each bunker, the slope of each green, the placement of the water hazards—all were meticulously designed. Birds were plentiful, with egrets especially graceful, and one-to-two-meter-long monitor lizards roamed about. People swung their clubs with effortless flair, laughing freely.
He Mu's favorite spot was the hotel's multi-level lagoon pool, and he also took a particular liking to the gym. It wasn't large, but the equipment was complete and logically laid out, making it very comfortable to use. Black, blue, and yellow lines on the floor clearly marked different functional zones, and the place was spotless. In the tire-flipping zone, a European man was straining to flip a massive tire. He Mu stood nearby, his hands itching to try, but he knew this power-based exercise wasn't his forte.
He Mu preferred high-frequency, low-weight training. He was quite devoted to it, and it showed. Lifting his shirt, four defined abdominal muscles were clearly visible, with two more faintly outlined below. Unless something truly unusual came up, he spent almost all his free time in the gym or the pool.
The men's restroom door featured a muscular weightlifter; the women's, a slender woman holding a dumbbell. The images were as large as the doors themselves, flanking the gym on either side without disturbing each other. Inside, a light, elegant fragrance made relieving oneself a pleasant experience. Unlike the cold, indifferent stares you might get back home, people here were friendly. A nod and a smile were only natural. He Mu felt himself being absorbed by the atmosphere, becoming more courteous and quickly blending in.
Having just arrived in Thailand, he wasn't familiar with much yet. Aside from work, all his time was spent eating and sleeping at the hotel. Fortunately, the hotel was large and the environment pleasant enough that he didn't get too bored.
The client's company was located in a proper industrial estate, about twenty kilometers from Laem Chabang Port. One day, he went to the site to check on the foundation work. Entering the estate, the first things he saw were a substation and a large water supply center. The roads inside were wide and smooth, traffic signs were clear, and the green belts on either side were generous. Workers were sweeping the roads along the way. Drainage ditches were wide and deep, cable trenches could be seen everywhere—the infrastructure here was solid.
Walking up a dusty slope, they reached the client's land. It was an empty expanse, nothing but yellow sand and swirling dust. Pile drivers were at work, their noise deafening. A canvas awning had been set up on site, with a simple table holding blueprints and notebooks, and several buckets of water on the ground. The site supervisor was tanned to a gleaming black—no exaggeration, his dark face was nearly unrecognizable. He Mu accompanied the chairman on an inspection. The chairman carefully measured rebar diameters, piling depths, and compacted soil thickness. He spent a long time discussing the perimeter walls and drainage ditches, asking extremely detailed questions about foundation depth, width, turning radius, and rebar layers. He proposed several rectifications, which the contractor diligently recorded. Soon, their clothes were soaked, their faces covered in dust, and after prolonged exposure to the scorching sun, their skin had visibly darkened several shades.
The workers on site were mostly Burmese, about half men and half women. They were busy with rebar tying, formwork installation, and material transport, working in an orderly fashion. They were lean, generally not very tall, and almost all wore sun hats, with towels draped around their necks to wipe away sweat. They were dressed head to toe to protect their skin from the sun, their faces and arms wrapped in cloth, leaving only their eyes visible. And those eyes held kindness and warmth.
The construction companies contracted by Chinese enterprises were almost all Chinese firms. Most building materials were imported from China. Apart from the general laborers, the managers and technicians were Chinese. Chinese enterprises had already built a small, self-sustaining economic circle within Thailand.
In Thailand, land is classified by color based on its permitted use. The client's land was purple-zoned, the most versatile category with the most functions. Land is owned in perpetuity, regardless of nationality, and can be freely bought and sold. As long as the purchase procedures are proper and complete, everyone is treated equally—a major factor attracting so many Chinese companies to invest here.
On the way back, He Mu asked the chairman, "I've noticed that local Thai factories are pretty simple. Why is our standard so high?"
The chairman replied, "Because Thailand doesn't have typhoons or earthquakes. They really don't need to build to such a high standard. We actually considered this, but we're a multinational enterprise. We have to adhere strictly to high standards. It represents the quality of China."
(To be continued. Next chapter: Brother Shan)