Li Bing—everyone should be familiar with him. He was the Han Chinese man Chen Mo had met on the road when Chen Mo left No Man's Land, the one who enthusiastically gave Chen Mo a ride to Siem Reap City. Ever since he had dropped Chen Mo off in Siem Reap City and parted ways with him, he had felt like nothing had gone his way these past few days.
But bad luck was bad luck. Ever since coming to Cambodia, nothing had felt smooth anyway. Just think about it: could someone who went abroad alone, with no money, possibly live a smooth and easy life?
Nothing here suited him, whether it was the food or daily life. Compared to back home, the difference was enormous. Like a roadblock, the first tiger in his path had been the language barrier.
The language difference had turned communication into an obstacle. At first, he could barely do anything at all. When he had just arrived in Cambodia, he could only guess at what people meant. Things were better now; he could already speak Cambodian fairly smoothly. That counted as an unexpected gain. Maybe someday he could even use that skill to make short videos about his experiences in Cambodia.
If he were given another chance, if there really were such a thing as a regret pill—not the kind sold at pharmacies to be taken within seventy-two hours afterward, but a real regret pill—he absolutely would not have come here and gotten himself into an international marriage.
If he had not trusted the introduction from a fellow townsman, and if he had not reached marriageable age, then whoever the hell wanted to marry a foreign wife could go do it. Even if it killed him, he would never marry a Cambodian wife.
They