Jiang Ling held the trembling little Xiaowei tightly and faced Xie Jiayan head-on. “Who are you? I’m Yaoyao’s maternal aunt. Why are you calling her Xiaowei?”
Xie Jiayan narrowed her eyes and studied Jiang Ling carefully. Could this girl really be the child’s aunt?
Xiaowei had been abducted at the age of three and remembered nothing—only how to cry. Xie Jiayan had casually given the child a name. As for the surname, since she and Shen Sanzhuang pretended to be a married couple, Xiaowei took the surname Shen.
Xie Jiayan and Shen Sanzhuang had been begging with three children, and because they were careful and had their gang backing them, things had always gone smoothly. She hadn’t expected to run into Xiaowei’s relatives at the train station today.
But soon, Xie Jiayan calmed herself. So what if this girl claimed to be Xiaowei’s aunt? When the child had first been kidnapped, she cried endlessly. After being beaten a few times and having that face burned, she had become obedient. Now, in the busy train station, this girl who claimed to be Xiaowei’s aunt was alone, with no one to help her—Xie Jiayan had nothing to fear.
Wiping away imaginary tears from her face, Xie Jiayan let out a howl, waving her hands as she lunged at Jiang Ling again. “I don’t have a sister like you! Stop spouting nonsense. Give Xiaowei back! Xiaowei is my child!”
Jiang Ling stepped back two more paces to avoid Xie Jiayan’s grasp, scanning the crowd and raising her voice: “Yaoyao has been missing for three years. Our family has been searching for her all this time. Don’t even think about taking her!”
The crowd around them was momentarily stunned.
“One calls her Yaoyao, the other calls her Xiaowei. Which is it?”
“Could they be mistaken?”
“Stop arguing. Let’s speak properly—it’s all for the sake of the child.”
Xie Jiayan tried several times to snatch Xiaowei from Jiang Ling but failed. She plopped down on the ground, yanking her throat open to wail and cry. “Damn it! Stealing a child in broad daylight—where’s the justice?”
She pulled a red household registration and a medical record book from her bag, opened them, and placed them on the ground. Her hair disheveled, she kowtowed to the crowd while sobbing: “The household registration clearly says Xiaowei is my third child. I brought her here to beg for money to treat the scars on her face. Please, show mercy—help a mother and daughter in need.”
Seeing the dark red household registration, most onlookers believed her.
“The household registration can’t be faked. The girl must be hers.”
“The medical record does show treatment history. She’s begging for money for her illness. Poor thing.”
“She’s been missing for three years. Kids change so much. Maybe the girl really got it wrong.”
People around the train station formed a circle around Jiang Ling.
Jiang Ling kept Xiaowei tightly in her arms. As long as the child was with her, she wasn’t afraid of Xie Jiayan’s glib words or twisting of facts. Household registration or medical record—fake is fake.
A short, burly man in a brown cotton jacket pushed into the circle. Without a word, he raised his hand and slapped Jiang Ling.
Jiang Ling sidestepped. The slap missed. Before he could react, she lifted her leg and kicked him squarely in the stomach.
Bang!
The man staggered back a few steps to regain his balance. He hadn’t expected this seemingly delicate girl to move so swiftly. His eyes flared with fury. “Dare to snatch my Xiaowei? You must be tired of living!” He rushed forward, swinging his fists.
“Ah—”
The crowd gasped at the man’s aggression.
Jiang Ling didn’t flinch. Narrowing her eyes, she stared coldly at this arrogant man.
Shen Sanzhuang, a relative of Shen Tianyao—the head of the Hawk trafficker gang—was born in 1956. He had been repeatedly detained by the police for fights, joined the Hawk trafficking gang in 1990, posed as Xie Jiayan’s husband, had a violent temper, was ruthless, and had personally abused five children to death. In 1997, he was arrested in his hometown and sentenced to death, stripped of all political rights for life.
Jiang Ling hated this deeply sinful trafficker and wished she could tear him apart piece by piece.
Years in the police force had instilled discipline in her, and she forced herself to suppress the urge to kill. She shifted her foot, moved to the left, and handed Xiaowei to Li Zhenliang, who had just returned from a phone call.
Li Zhenliang hesitated for a moment but instinctively took the child. Xiaowei was frail, a small bundle in his arms, quiet and obedient. As a father, Li Zhenliang’s heart softened, and he held her steadily.
Shen Sanzhuang’s eyes flashed with rage as he saw Jiang Ling handing the child to another man. He swung his fists again.“You even have an accomplice? Give me back the child!”
Though Li Zhenliang mostly did community work, he had practiced combat techniques with Zhou Wei at the station. He reacted quickly, stepping back two paces, holding Xiaowei with his left arm while grabbing Shen Sanzhuang’s punching arm with his right, twisting and pushing him half a meter away.
“Argh! It hurts! It hurts!”
Shen Sanzhuang shrieked in pain, retreating step by step.
Seeing this, Xie Jiayan panicked and, forgetting about her household registration and medical record, rolled into Li Zhenliang’s arms like a madwoman. “Help! They’re in cahoots! They’re traffickers trying to take my child!”
The crowd was confused.
On one side, Xie Jiayan and Shen Sanzhuang desperately trying to snatch the child, claiming to be the parents; on the other, Jiang Ling holding the child, claiming to be the aunt, with a helper carrying a small women’s bag—who was the real relative?
Impatient bystanders started shouting, “A child being snatched in broad daylight—where’s the law? The one with the household registration must be the real parent. This woman who took the child might be a trafficker. Comrades, help her!”
A few young men stepped forward, blocking the area around Li Zhenliang and Jiang Ling. “Don’t go anywhere! Keep the child here.”
Xie Jiayan’s eyes lit up with joy. “Thank you, thank you! You’re such good people. We’re from the countryside and have a hard life. Without kind people like you, we couldn’t survive.”
Her words swayed the crowd further.
“They’ve been begging outside all this time, they must be poor.”
“The child’s old enough to recognize people. Ask her.”
“Yes, ask if they’re really the parents.”
Xie Jiayan narrowed her triangular eyes, secretly delighted, but kept up the pitiful act. Having been a trafficker for so long, she knew how to gain sympathy. She gave Xiaowei a threatening look: “Xiaowei, come with mother. Behave, understand?”
Xiaowei, long abused, had fear etched into her bones. She shivered involuntarily and struggled under Xie Jiayan’s gaze. “Put me down! Put me down!”
Li Zhenliang didn’t let go but held Xiaowei even tighter.
Jiang Ling had entrusted the child to him and insisted that, since these were traffickers, he mustn’t release her.
Li Zhenliang wasn’t naive. The child had been obedient in his arms, and when Shen Sanzhuang rushed over, the little girl instinctively raised her hand to shield her eyes, her gaze full of terror.
What parents! They’re definitely human traffickers.
Seeing that Li Zhenliang had the child safely, Jiang Ling let out a sigh of relief, stepped forward quickly, grabbed Xie Jiayan by the arm, twisted her body, bent her knees, and executed a shoulder throw, slamming her hard onto the ground.
Xie Jiayan’s back hit the ground, and she grimaced in pain, but having grown up in the streets, she had a tough streak. She scrambled up quickly, clawed toward Jiang Ling’s face, and spat curses: “You little bitch, how dare you touch me! You’re a worthless brat, born of a mother but raised by none…”
Jiang Ling raised her hand to block, then delivered a sharp slap in return.
“Smack!” The crisp sound echoed.
Li Zhenliang’s brow twitched.
Jiang Ling was tall and slender, with short hair just past her shoulders. A pearl hair clip held one side in place, accentuating her sharp, refined features. Even Director Yao had commented before that she looked camera-ready—her appearance was striking. She normally spoke evenly and acted calmly and steadily; even during interrogations, her words could be as sharp as a knife, yet she never resorted to physical force.
Today, Li Zhenliang realized just how formidable she could be in action.
Truly a top graduate from the police school.
Jiang Ling didn’t give Xie Jiayan a chance to manipulate public sympathy. She swung her hand like a blade, striking the left side of Xie Jiayan’s neck. The neck, rich with nerves, is one of the body’s most vulnerable spots. The blow rendered Xie Jiayan unconscious instantly, her body going limp.
To prevent her head from hitting the ground and causing a fatal injury, Jiang Ling supported Xie Jiayan’s back and gently laid her down.
Li Zhenliang, standing nearby, was startled and hurried over, pressing his fingers to Xie Jiayan’s carotid artery. Only when he felt the strong pulse under his fingertips did he exhale in relief—thankfully, she wasn’t dead.
With Xie Jiayan unconscious, the square fell suddenly silent.
Earlier, when they had heard Xiaowei calling for her mother, many onlookers had clamored for Li Zhenliang to return the child, and some soft-hearted women were wiping away tears, lamenting how difficult life must be for this family begging on the streets, condemning Jiang Ling for being too harsh in snatching the child.
Now, with Jiang Ling’s decisive action and the victim unconscious, things felt unnatural, and the crowd was momentarily at a loss for words.
After a long pause, people began shouting again.
“Call the police! Quickly, call the police!”
“Snatching a child isn’t enough—they even hit the child’s mother. That’s outrageous!”
“She looks so innocent, but she’s a tough one!”
With Xie Jiayan down, Xiaowei’s tense muscles relaxed, and a spark of light returned to her eyes.
Seeing that small flicker in Xiaowei’s eyes, Li Zhenliang’s doubts vanished. He shouted: “Hold that man down!”
Of course, Jiang Ling had to restrain Shen Sanzhuang.
This man’s hands were stained with blood, and he had been cruel to children. Now that Jiang Ling had encountered him, he could not be allowed to escape.
Shen Sanzhuang, seeing Xie Jiayan initially in control, had been slacking on the ground, half-lying there and pretending. When Jiang Ling knocked Xie Jiayan unconscious, he panicked and scrambled to his feet—but Jiang Ling’s kick was so fast it sent him sprawling again.
Before Shen Sanzhuang could react, his hands were twisted behind his back. Jiang Ling’s moves were swift and merciless, contorting his face with pain as he screamed loudly.
“Behave!” Jiang Ling pulled out handcuffs from her lower back and quickly secured his hands.
“Click!”
The sharp, metallic sound, combined with the sight of the shiny silver handcuffs, stunned the onlookers.
“Police! They’re the police!”
“Could it be that these two really are the bad guys?”
“Aren’t they this little girl’s parents? How could…”
Jiang Ling pointed at Xie Jiayan on the ground, eyes flashing like lightning, surveying the crowd: “She is a trafficker. Xiaowei is the child she kidnapped.”
Xie Jiayan was notorious for her silver tongue. Records show that she had once been detained for suspected child trafficking, but she used her gift of persuasion to twist the situation, serving only fifteen days before being released.
That’s why Jiang Ling knocked her out decisively—to prevent Xie Jiayan from confusing or misleading the crowd.
Shen Sanzhuang shouted in protest: “You’re lying! We are Xiaowei’s parents—how could we be traffickers? I think you’re the trafficker, trying to steal my little girl!”
He was furious.
Having roamed the streets for years, Shen Sanzhuang and Xie Jiayan were a perfectly coordinated pair. They begged with their three disabled children, moving with two other couples, exploiting people’s sympathy for disabled kids to make filthy money across the province.
As the saying goes: walk by the river long enough, your shoes will get wet.
Sometimes they ran into clever people who saw through the ruse and tried to take the children.
Shen Sanzhuang and the others were prepared, falsifying household registrations and medical records in advance. Whenever anyone questioned them, they would cry, make a scene, and recount how difficult it was for the couple to raise three kids.
The household registration clearly listed him and Xie Jiayan as a married couple, with three children: one son and two daughters—Shen Xiaoyong, Shen Xiaomei, and Shen Xiaowei.
Xie Jiayan had a clever tongue; she could make the dead seem alive. Even at the police station, she could speak in such a way that the officers felt sympathy. They wouldn’t detain them—in fact, they would even dig around for some extra change to slip into their pockets.
According to the unspoken rules of their gang, Shen Sanzhuang and Xie Jiayan never stayed in one place for too long. They were careful and had never run into trouble before—but today at Yan City Railway Station, everything fell apart.
The reason was simple: Jiang Ling’s actions were just too swift!
Though she was a police officer, she disguised herself as an ordinary passerby. She came up, pretended to recognize them, snatched Xiaowei away, and then knocked Xie Jiayan unconscious.
Shen Sanzhuang, only good at yelling, couldn’t manage anything else. Now cuffed behind his back and unable to move, he deeply regretted his choices.
If he had known it would turn out like this, he might as well have left the girl Xiaowei behind and taken Xiaoyong and Xiaomei to another location to continue their scheme. Why bother tangling with two policemen?
Thinking this, Shen Sanzhuang yelled at the top of his lungs, “Xiaoyong, Xiaomei, come quickly! Someone’s taking Xiaowei!”
Xiaoyong pushed a small wooden cart, and Xiaomei held a bowl. They struggled through the crowd from the outer edges. Xiaoyong’s gaze was vacant, fixed on the fallen Xie Jiayan. Xiaomei stayed behind Xiaoyong, carefully taking in everything around her, her lips tightly pressed together.
Seeing their reaction, Shen Sanzhuang flew into a rage, shouting, “Are you all dead or what? Don’t you see someone’s taking your sister and bullying your parents?”
Xiaoyong lifted his eyes to glance at his cuffed hands but still didn’t speak.
His legs had been chopped off by Shen Sanzhuang himself. Out of three children who had their legs hacked in that batch, he alone survived the excruciating pain and infections.
Xiaoyong feared Shen Sanzhuang—terrified, to the point of death.
But he also hated him—hated him with a burning intensity.
Xiaoyong hadn’t been abducted by Shen Sanzhuang; he was taken by another man on a red motorcycle.
When he was first kidnapped, he was already five, old enough to remember his name: Xiaoyong. His family ran a tobacco, alcohol, and grocery store. His parents were kind, and he had a younger sister named Lili.
One autumn four years ago, while playing outside the store, a man on a red motorcycle passed by. Seizing the opportunity while his mother was busy inside, he grabbed Xiaoyong and took him away.
At first, he was locked in a small room with other abducted children. Hunger, cold, and beatings were constant. Once he became compliant, he was handed over to Shen Sanzhuang and Xie Jiayan. After recovering from his injuries, they made him wander from place to place, begging for a living.
From that moment, his life descended into endless darkness and suffering.
Xiaoyong was smart. He didn’t want to die, so he always behaved obediently.
He had even sought help from strangers, but most ignored him. Whenever a kind-hearted person secretly reported to the police, before the authorities could arrive, Xie Jiayan and Shen Sanzhuang would take him away.
The only exception was when they were brought to the station by the police. But Xiaoyong never had the chance to speak. Xie Jiayan would launch her tearful performance, spinning lies with the household registration and outpatient medical records. The officers, believing she was telling the truth, assumed they were a family and let them go.
Returning home meant another beating. If it weren’t for Shen Sanzhuang worrying that he might be beaten to death and leave no one to beg for money, he probably wouldn’t have survived.
Since then, Xiaoyong never trusted strangers again, not even police officers.
All he wanted was to keep begging with Shen Sanzhuang, hoping one day to return to the familiar grocery store in his memories and see his real parents.
Fear kept Xiaoyong still.
What if this was another trap? If he didn’t follow Shen Sanzhuang’s orders, would he face another brutal beating when he returned home?
His chopped legs, the scars on his back, the broken collarbone—all reminded him that he must endure, obey, or he would never see his parents again.
Xiaoyong turned to look at Xiaomei, who had always stood behind him.
Though injured, Xiaomei was brave and clever, able to read situations. She had always cared for her younger siblings, and he always listened to her.
Xiaomei had been hesitating—whether to help Xie Jiayan and Shen Sanzhuang. Could the police arrest them this time? If Xie Jiayan deceived the police again, would she, Xiaoyong, and Xiaowei face a cruel fate?
The thought of being brought back to that horrific “home” and brutally abused made Xiaomei shiver. She decided to say nothing—neither defending Shen Sanzhuang nor revealing the truth.
No matter what happened, she would avoid being beaten to death.
If the police believed Xie Jiayan, then back at that terrifying “home,” Xiaomei would not be beaten too harshly if she kept silent.
If the police saw through them, it wouldn’t be too late to speak the truth.
Thinking this, Xiaomei shrank back timidly, saying nothing.
Jiang Ling glanced at her. According to her files, she should be eleven years old, but due to severe malnutrition, she appeared only eight or nine in height and weight.
Children controlled by traffickers for long periods often develop early signs of dissociative identity disorder: either an obedient personality or a feral, aggressive one. As an adult, Xiaomei possessed both. In front of traffickers or police, she acted obedient and pleasing; in front of strangers threatening her resources, she displayed extreme aggression.
Xiaomei didn’t trust herself now, and Jiang Ling understood.
Jiang Ling pulled out her police badge and held it aloft through the crowd: “Look closely. We are police officers. We are taking these people back for investigation.”
Trusting the police, the crowd slowly parted to make a path.
Jiang Ling looked at Xie Jiayan, whose eyelids twitched as she stirred awake, and signaled Li Zhenliang to handcuff her.
Click!
Xie Jiayan opened her eyes to see her hands cuffed. She let out a howl and tried to get up, about to speak, but Jiang Ling leapt forward, lifted her chin, and dislocated her jaw with a precise motion.
“Ah ba ah ba…” Xie Jiayan writhed in agony, unable to speak a full sentence.
Jiang Ling’s eyes were cold as she said, word by word, “Human traffickers—all of you deserve to die!”
Growing up in an orphanage, Jiang Ling had longed desperately for parental love. At six, she had secretly tried to find her parents, only to be abducted. If not for Officer Jiang Shouxin of Qingshi Town Police Station in Changping County rescuing her, who knows where she would have ended up.
Even now, she remembered every detail of her childhood abuse:
Burning cigarette butts scorched her arms, leaving coin-sized scars; scalding water poured over her head, charring her scalp; next to her eyebrow remained a Y-shaped scar from being struck with tongs.
Why didn’t she dare marry in her previous life?
Because she couldn’t reveal these wounds to a loved one. She avoided short sleeves, kept her hair long, hid her forehead… She knew she had psychological issues, but doctors can’t heal themselves. She had to suppress the pain and slowly process it on her own
Until the end, she finally understood one thing:
Being abandoned by her parents was not her fault;
Being harmed by traffickers was not her fault.
The fault lay with irresponsible parents,
And with cruel, vile traffickers.
Heaven gave her a second life so she could seek justice from these evildoers.
Jiang Ling’s eyes gleamed with a cold light, like icicles hanging under a winter eave—cold, hard, and terrifying.
…
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