When Little Yang Mei saw the market and the bustling crowds, her eyes instantly lit up.
She was five years old and had been living in an innocent daze, but the experiences of the past few days had forced her to grow up.
She didn't believe they would actually take her home. Compared to the male driver and the woman, she trusted Little Tang Mo more. She believed what he'd said—that they were all going to be sold off to different places.
She had heard her mother and family talk about kidnappers before, about what to do if she ever met one.
Her mother had taught her to cry out to passersby for help. Trapped in the enclosed vehicle before, Little Yang Mei had no way to do that, and the idea hadn't even crossed her mind.
But now, seeing the bustling crowd and glancing at the bald-headed woman gripping her hand tightly, Little Yang Mei suddenly gritted her teeth.
'I have to go home. I have to get help… After all these days, I've finally found people.'
