Who to Cross
Chapter 8

Page 8

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8d ago

After a pause, Feng Yang added, "Don't reveal too much personal information in your WeChat Moments. Turn off WeChat location services."

The girls had not expected Feng Yang, who looked so cold and aloof and unwilling to talk, to be such a thoughtful, warm-hearted guy. Their hearts fluttered even more. Following his lead, they said, "That's why it's so unsafe for us girls to travel alone. If you'd be willing to keep us company, we'd feel much safer."

"Besides, you're alone too. How lonely must that be?" The girls had been watching Feng Yang the whole way.

Feng Yang did not respond. With his guitar and backpack on his back, he got off the train on his own.

It was the summer vacation, the height of tourist season. Even in a small city like A City, the flow of passengers was astonishingly high. Travelers carrying large and small bags of luggage streamed through the train station.

Feng Yang noticed someone following him. He deliberately slowed down and headed toward the more crowded areas. Sure enough, before long, he felt his jeans pocket grow lighter as someone slipped out his phone. Then his backpack was slashed open, and his wallet was stolen as well.

Feng Yang did not rush to catch them. Instead, he waited until the thief had safely left before pretending he had just discovered that his wallet and phone were gone, anxiously searching all around.

Of course, he could not find the thief. With all his money and ID gone, and no way to contact his family, Feng Yang could only stay inside the train station and make money by busking with his guitar—this was also the best way he could think of to remain at the station without arousing suspicion.

The only clues Feng Yang had were these: around eleven in the morning on June 12, the K666 Train. But he had no idea how long Yin Qing had lingered at the station after getting off, or when the traffickers had targeted and abducted her. So the only clumsy method he could think of was to arrive at A City Train Station early, then wait on a path with an excellent view that was also a necessary route for passengers entering and leaving the station, lying in wait for his prey.

What kind of scene would it cause when an absurdly handsome, exceptionally tall man who was also an incredible guitarist busked at the entrance and exit of a bustling train station? In less than half an hour, Feng Yang was surrounded by layers upon layers of people. Quite a few tourists joined in, raising their phones to take pictures and record videos. Amid the packed crowd, someone was dissatisfied with Feng Yang's dull performance of playing without singing and loudly shouted, "Handsome guy, sing one!"

"Sing one! Sing one!"

"Sing a song, and I'll tip you a thousand!"

"If you won't sing, say something at least! You should learn from those livestream hosts online and interact with your audience!"

Feng Yang, who had never truly intended to busk, wore an expressionless face as he played his guitar without much interest. His eyes occasionally swept over the station entrances and exits, never settling on the audience before him. Every inch of him radiated an icy indifference and casual detachment that kept people at arm's length. His half-hearted performance could not have been more obvious.

Yet perhaps because Feng Yang's looks were simply too outstanding, and because his showy guitar technique was especially dazzling, more and more tourists gathered around him, and more and more people gave him money. He even ran into several online streamers who were broadcasting live. They came up to invite Feng Yang to livestream with them, offering to split the gift money fifty-fifty. Of course, even more people got straight to the point and directly asked Feng Yang for his phone number and WeChat.

Having gone more than twenty years in his previous life without being watched by so many living people, Feng Yang forced himself to endure the discomfort. At last, he made it to eleven-thirty in the morning on the following day—June 12, half an hour after the K666 Train had arrived. The person he had been waiting for finally appeared.

It was around noon. A sudden commotion broke out at the busy station entrance and exit. Three lean, dark-skinned men dragged an exceptionally pretty young girl outside. Two rural women with heavy accents followed behind them.

"Help! Help me! Please call the police! I don't know them at all. They're human traffickers!" The girl struggled desperately as she begged the tourists around her for help. Her hoarse cries immediately drew everyone's attention. Many people gathered around, and someone instinctively pulled out a phone to call the police.

But the three men holding the girl and the two women stopped everyone from doing so.

"Don't listen to her nonsense. She's our daughter-in-law. Her parents arranged for her to marry our son and took three hundred thousand yuan in bride price from our family. She doesn't want to, so she's crying and making a fuss." One of the women in a floral shirt pointed at the woman beside her. "That's her mother. We're all from the same village."

The other woman nodded repeatedly. Her plain face was full of embarrassment and sorrow as she said, "I know my daughter looks down on men from the village. She wants to go to college. But our family is poor. Her father is sick, and we have no money to treat him. He's still lying in the hospital. What else could I do?"

As she spoke, she took a photograph she had prepared long ago from her pocket. It showed the girl with this rural woman and a middle-aged man.

"She really is my daughter. Her name is Yin Qing. I'm Yang Guihua, and her father is Yin Zhiguo. We live in Locust Village. We country folk don't lie. Please believe me!" The middle-aged woman held up the family photo with a sigh. She even gave the girl's name, then took an ID card from Yin Qing's wallet. The information matched Yin Qing's identification number. With such a well-supported explanation, people found it highly convincing. Even the passengers watching nearby had nothing more to say. They all felt sorry for the girl, but this was, after all, someone else's family matter. Some overly sympathetic onlookers even urged the girl to stop making a scene and to be understanding toward her parents. Their lives were not easy either.

"Didn't your parents raise you so you could support them when they got old? Young lady, don't be so selfish."

"What a hard life!"

"I remember there are donation websites online. Why don't you look into one?"

These were the people actively offering suggestions.

Even the police could do nothing.

Seeing the reactions of the tourists around her, the girl fell into despair. "I really don't know them. I'm begging you. Call the police for me. I want to go to the police station."

End of Chapter
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