Hearing Tian Guihua's account, Tao Yan and Huo Baichuan frowned uneasily.
Tao Yan noticed a problem and asked, "Forgive my bluntness, but you said your son was six when the traffickers took him. A six-year-old boy should have been able to run, jump, and speak. Why didn't he call for help when they took him?"
Tian Guihua blinked and explained hoarsely, "Because my child was mute. He had a terrible fever when he was three, and he couldn't speak after that. So when the traffickers carried him away, he couldn't cry out... My boy was so well-behaved. Anyone in the village could hold him, and he'd smile happily at them. He'd wrap his arms around their necks and refuse to let go... My mother-in-law was scooping water in the kitchen. She didn't hear a thing. That's how my child was taken by the traffickers..."
As she spoke, Tian Guihua could not help wiping away tears again. Cloudy tears flowed from her vacant, lifeless eyes, carving two tracks down her filthy face. The suffering and torment in her heart had become too much to bear, overflowing from her eyes.
The neighbors sitting nearby felt their hearts ache as well, their eyes reddening one after another. The old director patted Tian Guihua's thin, frail shoulder and comforted her. "I believe you'll find your son."
Yet at that moment, words of comfort seemed so pale and powerless.
Tao Yan and Huo Baichuan pondered for a while. They had not wanted to hurt Tian Guihua any further, but after thinking it over, they knew this had to be said. At the very least, she needed to be mentally prepared.
"Based on our experience, traffickers usually try to sell children after abducting them. But most buyers want healthy, obedient children. As for those who can't